Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n the scene was similar to the last. The revision wasn't as extreme here as in some other chapters.
The Persistence of Memory
By neutral
Chapter eight - persistence of unusual revelations
According to Einstein's theory of relativity ( E = mc^2 ), as a body approaches the speed of light, it becomes more massive.
How does that happen? I mean, does that mean if I fly close to the speed of light, I suddenly grow an extra arm? Sprout green eyebrows? Get fatter? Become a black hole and vacuum everything in close proximity?
Doesn't that go against the law of conservation of energy that matter, like energy, cannot be created or destroyed?
Maybe as you travel at high speeds, you have a larger gravitational force and bugs begin to stick to you, giving you more mass. Or maybe you get crushed as you fly, but at the speed and things begin to get mashed up with you, giving you more mass and at the same time, making you a lump of squished guts.
What happens if you fly faster than the speed of light (it's theorized to be impossible, but no one has tried it yet to see, so I say it is. Blah on anyone who tries to say otherwise)? It's speculated that the path then becomes circular, and that you actually start traveling back in time and go slower. I disagree.
James' Theory of Relativity © JM
1st Law: An object can fly at any speed it pleases, as long as it can get there in the first place.
2nd Law: As an object approaches the speed of light, it doesn't become more massive, but rather more compact. The forces around it draw it onto a central axis and compresses it into a smaller size, making it not more massive but more dense.
3rd Law. As an object reaches the speed of light, time takes on the structure of a logarithmic graph. Therefore, no matter how quickly an object travels, at or past the speed of light, time remains constant and goes neither forwards nor backwards.
4th Law: Will is a dork.
5th Law: James is the supreme ruler of the universe. [insert Darth Vader theme] [insert deep, nasal breathing] [insert deranged cackling]
I'm hungry…
- James [June 1st ][ St. John's Library ]
Remus eased open the Hogwarts doors with his thoughts far away. His robes hung heavy with rain around his ankles and it sloshed against the stone floors as he stepped into the castle. Purposely letting his pace lag, Remus walked slowly towards the headmaster's office.
Sometime during the trek to Hogwarts from his apparation point, he would have to draw his thoughts together and give the headmaster a coherent account of what had transpired. But Remus still felt a numbing sensation of detachment. The series of unlikely events pressed one against the other, just hours apart, left him disoriented and weary. It felt days since he last sat down and actually rested.
Harry was alive, unhurt, and safe. He lost his memory, but all that mattered was that he was alive. The relief Remus felt from just that realization was enough to spread to nearly drown him in relief. Though their reunion was on anything but friendly terms, Remus couldn't bring himself to be disappointed. He had never even considered the possibility of ever seeing Harry again a few weeks after Voldemort's body was recovered; what had happened was a gift.
Instead, only hours after Harry's return, Remus found himself wondering how Sirius would absorb the news rather than how Harry would readjust. Perhaps the notion that Harry had lost his memory hadn't completely sunk in. But at the moment, he couldn't seem to think of anything else. He knew Sirius and he understood how he thought, but Remus couldn't even begin to imagine how he would react to something like this.
But there was very little he could do. Sirius would not accept his help. Remus frowned.
There were times Sirius angered him so much Remus wanted to leave him behind, or grab him by the shoulders and scream himself hoarse. He wanted to drag out the disease that infested in his mind, but at the same time, Remus knew it was completely beyond him. Sirius was falling apart and there was nothing he could do.
A year ago, Sirius had Peter and Harry to cling to, but they were both ripped away overnight. Strange, how a fourteen year old boy Sirius had exchanged just six letters with and met twice face to face could snap him like that. Sirius never knew Harry. It was what not who he had lost that was devastating to him; Harry was the godson Sirius could never have.
Azkaban had caught up with him; Remus could see it in his face. He had watched Sirius deteriorate all last year, but when he tried to drag Sirius away from it all, Sirius just lashed out at him.
Months after Harry's disappearance, Remus had been ready to step ahead and leave what had happened behind, but Sirius lingered and moped. Remus had encouraged, lectured, and tried everything short of pleading to convince Sirius to do something for once other than lock himself away. James and Lily's deaths had taught Remus how to avoid the past, but Azkaban kept Sirius fixated over it. Whatever Remus said only divided them further. Perhaps it was in his character or Sirius' imprisonment, but Sirius cling to his guilt like it was some sort of twisted obligation.
And Sirius hated Remus' reasons. He seemed to feel betrayed by Remus in some way, as if he had expected Remus to mourn with him over their loss, but Remus didn't cling as fiercely to things as Sirius did. He hadn't expected that Sirius would hold that against him.
They no longer understood each other, or did they at all? It had been too long and they both had changed so much. Their friendship was crumbling; it had been for years. But Sirius was an open wound on his back; he couldn't move without flinching in pain. No matter how angry Remus was at his friend, he couldn't leave him behind. He was afraid to turn away only to find his last friend fallen and beyond help.
At the password, the gargoyle pranced aside to allow him entrance to the darkened corridor behind it. He hesitated briefly before the door to Dumbledore's office before soundlessly slipping inside.
Dumbledore didn't look up when his former pupil stepped inside the office, seemingly enraptured by the thin wand between his wizened fingers. Fawkes gave in greeting, but the office still felt oppressively silent. Remus crossed the room in silence and paused behind his desk, suddenly unsure of what to say.
It felt awkward, watching the headmaster's stooped shoulders and wizened hands, when he could remember a similar time, a year ago, when the same man exuded a firm strength. But during the week of Harry's sudden disappearance, Remus had watched as wrinkles deepened and spread across his wizened face; overnight, he seemed to age. All pretenses had been stripped away during those weeks, and all of Dumbledore's shortcomings became painfully evident.
Dumbledore's presence was no longer reassuring, but perhaps that was only his own perspective. In Remus' eyes, Dumbledore no longer commanded the same power and respect as the man who welcomed him to Hogwarts as a student.
"How is he?" Dumbledore abruptly whispered. His voice was hoarse and dry with exhaustion.
Remus lifted his eyes the met Dumbledore's briefly in surprise. "Albus, you knew?"
Faint amusement flickered in the headmaster's eyes, and he seemed almost to smile. "I assumed, when you said you left Sirius alone, that he'd do something like this. Tell me, how is Harry?"
He was silent for a noticeably long length of time.
"He is alright. Harry is… unhurt." Remus hesitated, painfully aware of the uncertainty on his face. It felt strange to speak the boy's name so frequently in the past few hours.
Dumbledore straightened in his chair and stare at his former pupil piercingly. "Remus, if Harry were perfectly fine, you would never have rushed into my office at this hour. What is wrong with him?"
Remus hesitated again. Unable to meet the headmaster's eyes, he watched the phoenix instead. "Harry spent a year in a children's home. He… Harry lost his memory," and cringed at how blunt and cold those words sounded to his ears. "He does not remember anything; he couldn't recognize us."
Remus had tried to envision the headmaster's reaction previously, but the soft, pensive sigh was completely unexpected. He had expected a much more obvious response, but Dumbledore only tensed invisibly in his chair and clenched the battered wand in his hands. Remus looked away.
"But he is a normal boy," Dumbledore suddenly whispered.
"He is," Remus answered, wondering what exactly the headmaster meant by the vague question. "I don't know any details about his life. Harry was rather preoccupied the entire time, and we didn't ask him many questions." Nor did they pause to explain anything to the amnesiatic boy; Remus sighed somewhat guiltily.
Dumbledore was still. "Is he well?" he asked with a carefully reigned urgency.
"He's feverish. But that's all, I believe," Remus paused, recalling the image of his friend's son and former pupil, and grimaced. "Harry was living in a children's home; I wouldn't be surprised if he had caught the illness from other children days ago. His reaction was rather severe."
"I need to see him," Dumbledore whispered. "Perhaps Poppy should as well."
Remus inclined his head, distracted. Does Harry even know about magic? Suddenly, everything seemed far more complicated. "Not too many confrontations," he hesitantly began. "I think Harry's overwhelmed at the moment."
Dumbledore's expression softened, and he gently placed the wand on his desk as if it was fragile glass. Harry's wand, Remus realized. He tried to remember the thinner, smaller hand in place of the headmaster's bony and wrinkled hands, grasping a polished wand, but it was impossible. Harry's wand had burnt beyond repair; red spots of the phoenix feather peaked from the cracks lining the surface. Remus dropped his gaze with a shudder.
"This will be hard on everyone, on Harry in particular. Remus, try to reassure Harry as much as you can. He is no longer an impressionable eleven year old boy. The past year would have no doubt changed him. Tell him what you can, but not too much and not too quickly. Give Harry time to recover."
"He calls himself James," Remus quietly said.
Dumbledore lifted his head abruptly. Remus wasn't sure whether he was unnerved that Dumbledore reacted more strongly to that news than Harry's memory loss.
"Does he?" Dumbledore said tightly; his hands trembled. "James…"
"It's too similar to be a coincidence."
"Perhaps it isn't."
A heavy expression passed over Dumbledore's face, and tapped his fingers against his desk thoughtfully.
"What could have caused his memory loss?" Remus whispered, seemingly to himself.
Dumbledore sighed. For a long moment, he said nothing.
"It's rather peculiar…" Dumbledore admitted. "Voldemort could not have cast that spell. It's not reasonable. When the most powerful Dark Wizard in history is dying, he uses a spell with the complexity of the killing curse in the last effort for revenge. It could have been an opportunity to kill Harry, but instead, he offers him what that could almost be a gift."
Remus glanced at Dumbledore sharply. "A gift?"
Dumbledore sank back in his chair and closed his eyes with weariness. "Not in that sense."
Remus shook his head. "I know what you mean, Albus."
Dumbledore drew a shallow breath and fell silent again, oddly subdued. Remus wasn't sure whether to be worried or exasperated, but his thoughts were too distracted for him to concentrate. He was eager to go back to Black Manor.
"Nothing that can be concluded yet," Dumbledore said finally. "There are so many things about that battle that still remains unclear."
"But it could be urgent," Remus said, more forcefully than he intended. "If it was Voldemort who caused his amnesia, but he had intended to kill him, then Harry's memory loss could be the result of another spell altogether. There are curses that can be hidden for years before manifesting itself, and the memory loss is only a side effect. It could have been a dark curse; Harry could be dying."
"That thought had crossed my mind," Dumbledore admitted softly.
Then you should have said it; how could you look so calm? Remus turned sharply away, and pressed the palms of his hands together in agitation. Dumbledore's persistent silence was aggravating. He understood why the headmaster kept most of his thoughts to himself— Dumbledore needed to keep up the appearance of calm stability to his students and to his supporters, but Remus was still frustrated. Dumbledore was fallible, and Remus didn't want to face those consequences a second time.
Dumbledore stood with a heavy sigh, his hands folded on his desk and his eyes pale with age. Not for the first time, Remus wondered about the strength of resilience he possessed to watch so many of his students suffer and die yet still be able to possess such confidence.
"I need to see him," Dumbledore said heavily. "There are hundreds of charms that have that same effect; each candidate is just as likely as the other. But at the moment, there is nothing we can do."
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. As Remus listened to the portrait slide shut behind him, he could feel the relief from Harry's return dying like smothered flame. The initial shock faded, leaving him with a hollow sense of unease and apprehension. What had happened in the days following the third task? How did Harry lose his memory? What exactly happened?
Remus retraced his path to the main doors, deep in thought. A window overlooking the forests caught the corner of his eye and, feeling a desperate need for fresh air, he paused to rest his forehead against the window plane. But nothing felt soothing. Nothing made sense. Voldemort could not have cast a memory charm, but neither could a Death Eater. All of them had been apprehended at the graveyard outside the Riddle House. Harry's present condition was Voldemort's doing, Remus was certain, but it must not have been a memory charm, but some deeper and darker curse. But if that were true, then a year would be sufficient for the effects of any curse to be apparent, and yet…
Remus clenched his hand in frustration. So many things were unexplained, but he didn't know who could answer them. Harry couldn't -- his memories were gone. But with his incoincidental name, Remus wondered how much Harry unconsciously knew. But no, they knew too little about Harry to come to any sort of conclusion.
"Professor Lupin?"
Remus started. He spun around, surprised.
"Cedric," Remus replied; he struggled to regain his composure but his unease doubled and logged like a rock in his throat. Of all the people to find me…
The man, still a boy really, stepped forward hesitantly into a patch of flickering torchlight. He nervously held the handle of his broom; Remus' similar awkwardness was completely lost on him.
"I'm sorry," Cedric blurted on instinct. "Am I interrupting you?"
His posture screamed his anxiety aloud and his eyes darted to Remus' face repeatedly as if searching for any sign of his unwelcome.
Remus' expression softened. "No, of course not. I was only thinking. This is too early for your morning lessons; why are you up at this hour?"
The Hufflepuff graduate, after receiving his diploma last year, remained at Hogwarts as an assistant in quidditch for Madam Hooch. His announcement had came as a shock to everyone; Cedric was a talented and gifted student with a brilliant future ahead of him, but the quidditch field held a memory for the boy, and he couldn't bring himself to leave it.
Cedric averted his gaze to his hands. "Nothing in particular," he said simply. "I was thinking about flying for a bit; it seemed like a good idea…"
The rain drummed in darkness, the sun was still hours from rising.
Remus nodded with a curious glance at his former student. "Yes, but bring a cloak. It's still raining heavily."
That probably wasn't the ideal thing to say at the moment, but Remus wasn't sure how to communicate. The past year had changed everyone, especially Cedric, who never really knew Harry past the point of competition. He seemed to feel a personal blame for what had happened, and held himself guilty.
"I thought you look the weekend off. Did something happen?" Cedric asked abruptly. He looked genuinely concerned.
"No, I was just going to Albus' office. Something has come up, but nothing seriously wrong," Remus said by way of reassurance. He forced the familiar façade of calmness onto his face and stiffly smiled.
Cedric nodded, and as Remus made his way down the hall, hesitantly moved to walk beside him. His expression was furrowed as if there was something he wanted to say but was unsure at the same time.
"You… you visited Mr. Black today," Cedric slowly began. Remus turned to him questioningly, but it was too dark to discern his features. "How is he? Is he alright? It's been a year since… Harry disappeared, and he always took it very hard. I… is he well?"
Remus slowed in his steps subconsciously. He knew why Cedric was so concerned. The boy seemed to feel a personal duty to those close to Harry and suffered from his disappearance. He kept Ron and Hermione company as much as he could, trying to do something, anything, that could redeem himself and buy some semblance of peace. Hermione was very understanding, but Ron never forgave him. When Cedric discovered the truth about Sirius' past and realized what Harry represented to him, he was torn.
Cedric had a right to know about what had happened. It was his right. "Cedric, there's been…" Remus throat hitched. He couldn't continue.
Cedric caught the note of urgency in his voice and spun around to face him. "What happened? Is Mr. Black…?"
"Sirius is fine," Remus said firmly.
"Is he?" Cedric whispered doubtfully. "Professor, please be truthful. Something must have happened to him if you rushed to Hogwarts in the middle of the night. Is he ill?"
Remus fell into an uneasy silence again, debating with himself whether Cedric should know. Harry's discovery was sudden. A small slip, and half the wizarding world would be after the child again, and Remus couldn't risk that. He wasn't sure if he dared telling Cedric, or anyone for that matter.
"Dumbledore contacted me," Remus answered with a tone of finality. "It had nothing to do with Sirius."
He could feel Cedric's inquiring gaze on him for a long time. They walked in silence and listened to the soft echo of each other's footsteps.
"Is Mr. Black ever going to return to Hogwarts?" Cedric asked after a pause. "I'm sure Ron and Hermione would like to see him. It would be good for both of them, you know, to talk…" he gestured vaguely with a hand, unable to put his thoughts into words, and sighed.
"He will," Remus murmured, "very soon, I think."
"I'm beginning to think Ron will follow in his footsteps once he graduates," Cedric softly continued. "Hogwarts has too many reminders. He's so disillusioned by the ministry, by our world in general, and the way they reacted to the events of last year. He probably would get away now if he could."
"He's too young to feel that way."
"Harry was too young," Cedric whispered fiercely.
Harry was… He had never really begun living yet at fourteen. He had spent his entire life in the shadow of his reputation else and, unbidden, Remus' thoughts traveled back to the boy at Black Manor, completely oblivious to the life he used to lead. They had much to explain, and Harry was no longer an impressionable eleven year-old child; what if he rejected them completely?
Cedric drew a sharp breath. "None of this should have happened."
"No, it shouldn't," Remus admitted, "but we had very little choice."
"That's not what I meant," Cedric whispered. "The tournament… Harry should not have died…"
Remus inwardly flinched. It always came back to this.
"Cedric…"
"No," Cedric said firmly. "I know what you're going to say. Everyone has been saying it. It's just meant for some politeness, but it's hardly the truth. Apart of you resent me; please don't deny it."
"We all have apart of us that are secretly blaming ourselves and each other for what happened," Remus said tiredly. "But no one can change what has happened, and it's only the knowledge of our failures that is haunting us."
"Ron hates me," Cedric remarked rather bluntly.
Remus couldn't think of what to say and kept silent.
"And Mr. Black…" Cedric flinched at just the thought. "I'm not sure what he thinks of me. The last time I saw Mr. Black—the entire time, he looked at his hands. But when I was leaving, he sort of… glanced at me from the reflection of the window and this look of…" Cedric's voice wavered and he ran a shaking hand through his hair "something crosses his face, and he… he doesn't forgive me. He doesn't hate me, but he doesn't forgive me. I wish he hates me though. It had to be better than that look."
"Sirius holds nothing against you," Remus said firmly, but inwardly, he was doubtful. It was like Sirius to be resentful.
Cedric shook his head. "Mr. Black can't even look me in the eye. Harry gave his life to save mine, but I feel like… I feel like I'm the one who took his life from him!"
Those words delivered in a tone that sounded almost painful. Remus turned away, unable to look at Cedric.
"Cedric, you've been trying to take on too much by yourself. If you are trying to pin the blame, that we are all guilty for not being able to save him," Remus whispered.
"No, but I was there. It had been my duty to do something," Cedric said vehemently, his voice trembling.
Remus closed his eyes. "There was nothing you could have done."
"He pushed me aside from the killing curse!" Cedric said sharply. His shoulders were shaking. "He gave up his life for me. You have no idea that feeling… I can't even explain it. It's just this sense of… like I've committed a horrible crime." Cedric gestured vaguely, grimacing. "I don't even know why he did it. I was hardly his friend, but he… There were so many things that I could have at least tried to do."
Remus flinched. "You would have died with all those attempts," he said very softly.
"I am not as important as Harry," Cedric said firmly. "I was going to be some ministry official. Maybe I'd work with papers all day long, or something. It wasn't going be very glorious."
"A life is a life, Cedric," Remus whispered.
Cedric shook his head. "Harry was going to do great things. He was going to make a difference. He was going to… I'm nothing compared to him. Hell, I'm older than him! I should have been the one dying to defend him. Harry had so much ahead of him and so many people who cared about him." Cedric sighed. "Professor, you cared about him too, did you?"
Remus stopped walking. He hadn't meant for their conversation to turn into something personal for him.
"Yes," Remus admitted after a pause. "We all did. But I'm afraid I did not know him as well as you did."
"You cared," Cedric said quietly. "You came back to teach because of it."
He had enough of that for a day; Remus grimaced. "Yes but there were other reasons too."
Cedric frowned back at him and Remus quickly began walking again. "When you first came back, I thought it was because you were apart of the search and needed to stay close to Hogwarts. But that wasn't it. When everyone gave up hope, but you still stayed."
Remus flinched again, and this time, Cedric saw.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry."
"No, it's true," Remus sighed, dropping his gaze to his hands. "But I chose to give up too easily. I forgot that there were things we should never lose hope in."
Frowning in consideration, Cedric watched him quizzically. "Professor Lupin?"
"Never doubt him, Cedric," Remus glanced at the younger man and managed a small smile. "I did, and I was proven wrong. Harry still has much to live for, and I think we should have more faith in him."
*