Responses:
Jessi Black: I make people cringe? I'm sorry I'm confused. LOL, was it something I wrote? Well, I've got a short term memory any way. I'm glad you enjoy the story! What would the world be without insane people? BORING.
Calipictria: Hmm, yes, implied. I just sort of twisted the words around a bit. JK is a very tricky author, read a sentence one way and it implies that James knew, read it another, it implies that he had an idea. You are right, it does say flat out in the book that Sirius convinced them to use Peter, I went and looked it up. It was something that I over looked. But then, what if Black has forgotten the details after over a decade in Azkaban? Just a thought. Really, this was just a mistake on my part. I mean, I figured that James most likely knew, but what if extra precaution had been taken so that he didn't know? Another thought. Okies, well, I'm glad you find it nice and unique, I'm glad. Keep reading.
A Little Note: WEEEE, it's chapter five…I don't know why this makes me so happy, it just does. And this is a thoroughly depressing chapter for James… oh well, sorry James. OMGOSH….I'm so proud of myself…. I finally figured out how to upload chapters with bold and stuff.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Haven't I already answered this question? You know I really don't like answering a question/statement twice.
Chapter Five- The Emerald Box
James held his breath, looking at his son whose wrists were bound behind his back and was kneeling on the ground in a doorway to a room that looked like a broom closet, or it could have been the kitchen, James couldn't tell and he wasn't paying much attention. His mind was screaming for him to do something, but Lucius grabbed his cloak collar. Someone kicked Harry from the shadows and he fell, someone hit him with the Cruciatus Curse and James watched his son yell and scream with pain.
"No! STOP! LET HIM GO!" James screamed, reaching out as far as he could with out strangling himself He tore the cloak off, running to his son, but at least seven Death Eaters stopped him, their faces masked, black cloaks billowing with the wind they had created from running. He heard Harry yelling from behind them, then he was silenced.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" James tore at the Death Eaters, but they didn't move at all. Their wands were out, the nearest Death Eater's wand was nearly touching James's nose. He backed away, hardly willing to believe they had killed him. No, they hadn't, there hadn't been any green light. Harry hadn't been killed, only knocked out or silenced or something. And James knew that green light so well, it visited him nearly every night in his nightmares.
Lucius pulled him away, "He will be fine if you only listen." His voice was a whisper and if he moved his head down any further it would be resting on James's shoulder.
"LIKE YOU'LL LET ME GO HOME, HAPPY AND SAFE IF I GET OUT OF THE WAY AND LET YOU MURDER MY SON?" James yelled. He knew he wasn't acting like Remus, and he knew that it was much too late to pretend that he was only Remus and not James at all. But something had awoken inside James, something that he hadn't felt in years. He had lived as Remus for so long, he had been Remus, forgetting that he was James inside. Or rather, willing himself to think that he was Remus, that he had never been James that it was all a terrible, terrible nightmare. But that wasn't the truth, he had been living a lie and he knew it. He was James not Remus, and the part of him that lived as James forever inside his very soul had erupted.
"Did I say that?" Lucius asked menacingly. "No, I said that HE would be fine if you'd listen. But your inflated head seems to have affected your hearing! He will be fine of course until we have need of him. No, I guess we won't let you go home happy and safe, what would that show for the Dark Lord?" Lucius put his wand to James's chest, "No, you will listen because you have no choice. You will listen because if you don't your dead, listening will prolong your life, James," Lucius said his name with such hatred and menace.
James glared at Lucius, around at the Death Eaters, "Fine! I guess I have no choice then do I? I'll never let Hogwarts fall to you lot." Harry was gone, the Death Eaters had since dispersed, and where Harry had been was a bare piece of rug. "Where have you taken him?"
Lucius smirked, "You shall learn soon enough." And Lucius led him away to the dank, dark basement, manacles hung on the walls and ceilings, but they just chucked James down the steps and locked the door behind them.
James swore under his breath and tried to apparate, though he knew that it was highly unlikely that the room was left unprotected. He screamed and pulled his fingers through his hair, pulling out a few of the thinning strands. He kicked the wall, letting out frustration that he had held inside him for so long. His son was going to die and it was all his fault. If he had just kept quiet, he could have prolonged the time that it took for the prophecy to come into effect, but he had sped it all up, he knew he had. A sliver of moonlight fell into the basement from a slim window up near the ceiling of the vast room, he didn't even bother to try and escape the room through the window. He knew that the window was protected by magic, the Death Eaters were evil, not stupid. He put his head against the cold stone wall and slid down to the floor. Thoughts were flowing through his mind, 'It's Harry's birthday, he's here on his birthday.' 'Harry's only sixteen, he's going to die at age sixteen!' 'He's gotten out of situations before, why would now be different?' 'It's my fault!' 'Don't be stupid, you didn't do anything.' He closed his eyes in sadness, burying his face in his hands. He listened as someone, though he didn't know or particularly care to know who, singing a very familiar song. He let his head fall to the floor, closed his eyes and he fell asleep almost instantly.
***
It was July 31 and Harry clambered up the stairs after breakfast a week or two after speaking to James for the first time. To think he had been asleep in his own bed that morning, dreading the next night before this one was even over, tossing and turning. He had no doubt that he would have more nightmares tonight, the fact that is father was alive in Remus's body had not lifted the fact that Sirius was still very dead. Guilt still lived inside him, it seemed to be a dull ache that never went away anymore. When he reached his room he fell down onto the bed, looking at the mirror that lay on his bedside. It was cracked in several places where he had tossed it out of anger onto his trunk, but he was so thankful that it still worked, he knew that it was slowly becoming the only thing in his life that he looked forward to anymore. He had spoken to James every night since that day, and it was better than anything he could have hoped for. He had his father back.
Harry took out some unopened birthday cards from his friends in the wizarding world, a little perplexed but not entirely worried that he had not received one from James. He knew that he would probably say something to him tonight when they spoke via mirror. Harry picked up a card from Hermione,
Dear Harry,
How've you been? I suppose it's nearly as bad as last summer, if not worst after, well after….. Anyway, Ron said that he was asking us over in the middle of August, but right now I am on holiday in Ireland. You should see all the magnificent folk lore here, the Sidhe, oh it's wonderful! I've met so many wonderful people and a banshee, I heard one the other night. It's an awful sound, but you know the . . . history!
Harry could almost hear Hermione's excited voice speaking these words, he knew she was having fun, learning. Something that he and Ron had never quite mastered.
I do hope that the muggles are treating you alright, but after what Professor Lupin, Moody, and Tonks did I do think that their attitude will have changed. But that was risky what they did, Moody let your uncle see his eye, what if someone else had seen?! It would have been awful. The Order's been very busy from what I heard. The Death Eaters from the Department of Mysteries escaped from Azkaban and all, be sure you stay at your house Harry, don't try to get away. Sorry, I don't mean to be preachy. Well, my mum is calling, it is time for dinner, but I would much rather be at the library reading up on the history of Dublin, but oh well, they don't understand. . I'll see you in August Harry!
With Love From,
Hermione
P.S. I've sent you an Irish worry stone, I know its not much, but all my gold is in London and I had to get something Ron and Ginny too, you know. But it says on the package that if you rub the stone your worries will vanish. I thought it might come in handy. Even though its probably doesn't work, its for tourists you know, but I bought it in a place similar to Diagon Alley.
Harry folded up the letter, a little angry at Hermione for her comments about staying where he was and what Moody did, but still grateful that she was willing to talk to him after he had been such a prat all summer. He ripped open the small package that had been attached to an owl that had flown off as soon as he had pulled off the present. It was small, about the length of his thumb and smoothed into an oval shape. A hole near the top held a thick string of suede to hold it around your neck. In the center of the stone there was a small dent that looked as though it had been rubbed relentlessly. Harry picked up the sheet of paper that the stone had been wrapped in. Long loopy handwriting had written a note about the stone surrounded by golden Celtic knots that sparkled like star lights. He read the note, and placed it around his neck, grinning at Hermione's gift. It was…. interesting.
He reached over and grabbed the letter from Ron and pulled it out, reading the card, it was a lot like Hermione's, it held the same information the same stuff, though an extreme lack for the enjoyment of learning. He folded his letter up, a little disappointed that it hadn't had anymore information as to the doings of Voldemort. He had the paper delivered to him every day again, and though the ministry now believed him and the papers were telling the truth, he couldn't help but feel a strong mistrust of the paper anyway.
The package was much larger than Hermione's and Harry wondered what it could be. Rather than dwell on it, he slipped the paper off to find a large emerald green box covered in glittering words that said THE MARAUDERS in blinding white print in more curly handwriting like that on the worry stone's description. Harry stared at it for a moment hardly believing what he saw. He tore out the map that had belonged to his father, Sirius, Remus, and Peter.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" Harry recited breathlessly. The words sprawled across the old parchment THE MARAUDER'S MAP. He caught his breath and looked at the box once more. The names were the same, unless Ron was playing a horrible joke on Harry or had completely forgotten what the map was called. Harry had checked the map to make sure, after all those times he had read it and swiped it clean he hardly looked at the names up top. But he had known all along, somehow.
Harry swiped the map clean and went back over to the box. It was full of old pictures. They were like the ones that he had received from Hagrid at the end of first year. He pulled the one on the very top out and gaped at it. He turned over to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. It said "Sirius and Harry, 7 months" in a handwriting that he had never seen before. It showed a young handsome man who looked as though he was around twenty one or two laying down on an over stuffed forest green leather couch. He was looking intently at a little boy who was breathing softly in the picture. Sirius had his arms around Harry as Harry slept and Sirius too looked as though he was about to fall fast asleep as well. From time to time he winked up at Harry, and slowly his head was resting gently near the baby Harry's and he too was asleep.
Tears filled Harry's eyes as he saw that, not noticing the note that was attached to the underside of the box lid. When he finally tore his eyes away from the picture and put it back in the box he saw it, ripping it up quickly from the Scotch tape that bound it there. The handwriting wasn't Ron's, it was another's that he had never seen before.
Harry,
This box was Sirius's. Most of his stuff had been destroyed when he was imprisoned, but Remus, or that is to say, James, had taken this before the ministry officials could get a hold of it. During their days as, ahem, trouble-makers-in-chief at Hogwarts this box had come in quite useful I imagine. It turns invisible when you most need it to, I suppose they used it for their pranks. But inside it now I've put in photographs and old relics of your parents childhood. Talked to everyone who knew your parents, I know that Hagrid did the same thing, but this time we didn't kindly ask them to be pictures without Sirius. I believe that you'll find the one on the very top interesting. It always makes me tear up a little. Well I guess that you don't want hear an old woman's blubbering. Happy Birthday dear and I'll see you in August.
Love,
Molly Weasley
PS: And the rest of us too, mum! Don't forget your adorable twins Fred and George! Can't thank you enough Harry, business is booming and we decided to take a holiday to visit the family! Ginny says hi as well, and well Percy too, he's back, but we're still trying to pretend he doesn't exist. Cheers.
Harry put the letter down, smiling lightly. Slowly, he began sifting through the old photographs. Soon he was surrounded in pictures; the box however still seemed to be filled to the top. There were ones of his mother, father, Remus, Sirius, and Peter. Anger filled him every time he saw one that had Peter in it, but he knew that Peter had once been a good person, deep down he still was the teen who followed around his father and Sirius. But it was hard to accept. There were even some of Hagrid with the quartet in what looked around to be fifth or sixth year.
When Harry had exhausted the photographs and moved them to the side. He looked into the box and to his surprise there was more in it. Though the photographs now lay strewn around his floor and it had seemed to him that that was all that was in there, now at the bottom of the box was an assortment of things. There was a handsome golden eagle feather quill, a battered doll, a torn dog collar, a broken set of glasses, a small mini version of Mrs. Weasley's clock, and a few other relics of childhood. Harry picked up the quill and smoothed the feather between his thumb and index, then placed it down amongst the photographs. The doll was wearing a yellowed pink dress and in her tiny porcelain hands was a white pinafore with pink flowers. Harry moved over the doll with his hands, looking at it, trying to figure out why it was in the green box.
He turned it over, looking at the bottom of the foot on some hunch. There written in what looked like a black sharpie was the name Lily E. It was his mother's doll. He placed it down next to the eagle quill and then he grabbed the small clock. On the clocks numerous hands were the names Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. All of which were pointed to 'mortal peril' as if stuck there. All except Peter's whose was pointed on the word 'home'. Harry did a double take on clock. Though he wasn't sure which name would belong to his father now, both of them were pointed to 'mortal peril'. He dropped the clock and ran to get the gray mirror that stood on his dresser.
***
James awoke in the late morning, his entire body was sore from sleeping on the hard stone floor and his hair seemed slightly damp from a leak above him on the first floor. He groaned and arose, trying to decipher where he was. Suddenly it all came back to him, everything that had happened over the past two weeks, and more so, what had happened last night. The realization hit him so hard it was as if the wind had been knocked out of him, he gasped and panic over took him. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one, there was no one for him to switch bodies with now. 'Good,' thought James. 'Maybe I'll be able to get what I deserve now.'
"Do you really think that you deserved what happened, James?" said a gentle woman's voice from the corner, one that he only heard in his dreams. He dared not believe what he was hearing. Dared not, but if he just asked, it couldn't hurt to ask.
But the question he wanted to come out didn't, "Where are you?"
"Over here," the voice whispered. And she stepped into the light. James felt again as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He leaned against the wall, gasping.
He put one hand into his pocket robes as if to get his wand but he then realized that it wasn't there, "L-lily?" James thought her a ghost, but he knew that she couldn't be. Her edges were slightly blurred but she was very solid. She smiled, her green eyes were laden with sadness that he had never seen before, he supposed it came from death. "It was you singing last night then," and she nodded.
"Ah, James," said another voice that belonged to a blurred man that James had only seen in memories and photographs, not walking and talking for years. "Yes, looking good I must say," though a smile danced upon his lips there too was the piercing sadness in his eyes.
"Not too shabby yourself, Moony," James's voice was shaking. He was seeing his wife and his body there in front of him, standing there as if nothing had happened nothing had changed. "But how –", Remus in James's form cut him off.
"That can all come later, James. You don't know how weird this is for me," he laughed.
"You don't know how weird this is for me! You're supposed to be dead!" James said, a little harsher than he had meant.
Remus winced, "We are very much dead, James. You saw it happen, do you think we would hide from everyone for fifteen years?" There was resent and anger in his voice. James looked hurt at the tone of Remus's voice, but he knew that it had danced in his voice a moment earlier.
"I- I," he stammered. "-how?" James repeated.
"Later, James," whispered Lily.
And then, James's face nodded, "Yes, later. It is too soon."
James turned his eyes over to Lily who tugged anxiously at her cloak, like a young child waiting to ask what her favorite aunt had gotten her after a long stay away. James looked at her expectantly, "Tell me about Harry, James."
James looked at his wife, then closed his eyes. Were they really standing there talking to him like they had been alive all these years? It was like they had gone on a very long vacation, forgetting to come home. James opened his eyes, half hoping that they would disappear and half scorning himself for thinking such an awful thing. But Lily and Remus were still standing there, waiting anxiously for him to talk. "He's brilliant, looks just like me. Except for your eyes, Lily. Except we knew about all that. He lives with your sister," Lily cringed and shook her head in disgust. "And his uncle and cousin. He's seeker and bloody brilliant at it too. He's got two great friends, the Weasley's youngest and a girl named Hermione. I taught him in third year, he's going to be in sixth." James stopped, he didn't want to be going over this now, he wanted to know why his wife and friend were suddenly alive again. "Look, why are you standing here in front of me as if nothing has happened?"
Remus looked at him through James's eyes, and James at him through Remus's, "We're memories."
