Crossing Bridges
By Tien Riu
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. Plot (what little there is of it) and depiction of characters are mine. WARNING: The future of this piece of fiction contains slash/yaoi/shonen ai/homosexual relationships.
Description: [AU] Remus Lupin is sent back in time on a desperate mission to kill Lord Voldemort. From a present where he is the last Marauder, Remus finds himself once more eleven and attending Hogwarts for the first time.
For an explanation of the story, refer to first chapter.
Any comments and criticisms would be greatly appreciated. If not – enjoy the ride.
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Act I: The Man
The final battle against Lord Voldemort occurred, as many predicted, during a warm evening in June of 1999. Fittingly, it coincided with the graduation of one Harry Potter. It also went without saying that the new witches and wizards of that year took to the battle that raged across the once-green lawns of Hogwarts. Most – but not all – joined the ranks of Albus Dumbledore's legacy – the Order of the Phoenix.
It was not a long battle – but it was brutal and bloody. Early on in the war, they had taught the children to attack wands rather than Death Eaters. Destroy the wand, so the rule went, and the Death Eater was helpless.
Without magic, the enemy fought with knife, sword and steel; the battleground echoed with the screams of the dying and wounded. The dead were mercifully silent.
The end came with a shattering of light so bright that all stopped and turned to stare where two silhouettes were outlined against the darkening sky.
Remus Lupin, caked with dirt and panting for breath, watched as Harry Potter cast the third Unforgivable. And he, like all the others, watched as the Boy Who Lived – died.
The survivors ran – scattering across the vast grounds to hiding places prepared in dread of such an eventuality. Behind them, the stones of Hogwarts fell to the will of Lord Voldemort.
The body of Harry Potter was lost – taken as a grotesque souvenir to parade before the masses as the Death Eaters took over the wizarding world.
The war was not over – and no doubt some of the more impressionable were awed and impressed by the thought of the rebellion and packets of resistance already springing up across the face of the world. It went without saying that one day, in the far future, Lord Voldemort would grow careless – and there would be a new hero for the wizarding world to admire and adulate. A new 'who lived'.
But for now – the last symbol of the old regime had been destroyed, and the battle was lost.
It was hard to tell the difference between the screams of pain and those of victory. Perhaps there was no difference – Remus certainly found no distinction as he ran through the Forbidden Forest.
It was the morning after when Minerva McGonagall found Remus seated beside the pallet bearing Sirius Black's body. They were deep within the Forbidden Forest in the first of a system of caves. The last of Albus Dumbledore's Order had retreated here, protected behind various unplottable wards. The caves would become the headquarters of the new resistance.
"Remus." Minerva said softly, "How is Sirius?"
"He died two hours ago." Remus responded, voice flat and emotionless, "Madam Pomfrey couldn't stop the poison in his system."
"Oh – Remus –" Minerva said, staring helplessly down at the body, "I – are you all right?"
"Werewolves have an average lifespan of fifty years." Remus responded, voice still flat, "I was supposed to be the first Marauder to die." He looked up, eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, "He died thinking Harry was still alive. That we won."
Eventually Remus looked away, staring down at his best friend's body. They remained thus, in silence. To bystanders, it might have seemed that both were mourning Sirius Black's death. The few who might have realised otherwise were dead.
"What did you come here for, Minerva?" Remus asked quietly as he stood, turning away from the bed.
"The Order has voted, Remus." Minerva said quietly, "With both Sirius and Harry – gone –" and her voice did break once, " – you are the one they wish to send back." She said, "Will you accept the mission?"
Remus stared at her, then nodded, "Yes."
*
Albus Dumbledore had died in 1997 in a desperate – and ill-fated – bid to kill Voldemort. On the eve of his death, he had gathered the Order and laid out the last, desperate strategy to be undertaken should Voldemort reach a stage where he truly could take over the wizarding world. His sacrifice had postponed the final battle a precious fifteen months. Adequate time for the Order to fulfil his last orders.
"You understand the risks?" Arthur Weasley – arm still bound in a splint – repeated, "Do you understand what might happen, Remus?" he paced nervously, "Time turners were not created for travel beyond hours. Returning your body a day will leave you dead, a month and all that will arrive is dust. But years – if you travel back in time a year, you will return as a ghost capable of inhabiting the body of your younger self." He stopped, stared worriedly at Remus then continued pacing.
"I understand, Arthur." Remus said, "I know the risks –"
"You will not be able to return, Remus. Do you understand that? You will be dead. This is a suicide –"
"Yes. I know." Remus said and took the golden time turner.
"I don't like this." Arthur said, "I don't like this – not with Sirius and Harry both gone." He stopped, as if realising what he had said, then continued, running his uninjured hand through his sparse red hair, "We can wait a day or two –"
"No. I want to leave now." Remus said sharply, "Now – while –" and stopped, "Now. Another day and we might be overrun by Death Eaters. Now while we still have access to an unbroken, untraceable Time Turner. Now while I still remember – everything." His voice was flat and emotionless – perhaps that was why Arthur finally nodded.
"If – when – we win, your name will be listed beside our greatest heroes, Remus. I promise you that at least." He said finally.
It was a lie of course - Remus wondered if Arthur realised this and merely mouthed the words for him. The concept was – strange. He had spent too many years being watched for beastlike tendencies.
"Sirius wanted to be cremated." Remus responded, and pulled the light chain of the time turner over his head; he paused then, meeting the eyes of the man Harry had considered almost a father.
"Good luck, Remus." Arthur said, and appeared to wish to say more – what came from him however was: "Good luck."
"Harry –" Remus began, then continued quickly as if barely able to say the words, "If his body can be found before time slips, he wanted – wanted to be buried with his parents."
Arthur nodded and Remus twisted the time turner, counting through the hours, then days – and finally years he would need to travel.
Arthur was alone in the alcove when Minerva appeared.
"He is gone?" Minerva asked quietly.
"Yes." Arthur stared helplessly at the Headmistress of Hogwarts, "Will this work? He will be eleven years old –"
"If it does, Arthur, then we will never know." Minerva replied quietly, "If Remus succeeds – then all of this –" and her gesture encompassed the caves with its pitifully small amount of inhabitants, " – all of this would never have occurred."
"He will be eleven years old. And eleven year old assassin." Arthur whispered, "I remember Remus at that age – he looked like he would as soon die than hurt a fly."
*
There was pain. He was used to pain.
There was darkness – it did not scare him.
There was – light.
The platform was filled with people – more than he could remember seeing for many years. Twenty seven years.
This was Platform 9 and three quarters before the Voldemort wars. This was when the wizarding world had been growing rather than desperately clinging on the edge of extinction.
This was the world of his childhood.
Remus Lupin knew he was dead; the understanding came as an unseeing wizarding family walked past and through him while talking excitedly. He was a ghost – or as close to one as there could be.
He searched the busy platform. Twenty seven years had passed and he was sure memory had painted the past with nostalgic inaccuracies.
The boy wore robes that were too big for him – he was small for his age, which made him seem nine rather than the eleven he would have to be to attend Hogwarts. He was holding a toad in one hand, and at his foot was a battered trunk that currently held his entire attention.
Remus walked through the crowd, ignoring the slight squeak of "Ooh! What a cold draught!" from a misty-eyed witch.
The boy had brown hair that looked somewhat shaggy despite the hasty combing it had garnered from the boy's mother. Remus knew that the boy's mother had attempted everything short of a spell to tidy her son's hair. He knew also that the boy's last memory of his mother would be of that awkward grooming. He knew that the mother would be dead before Christmas – her heart finally too exhausted to continue.
He knew all this because twenty seven years ago, he had been the boy.
Insubstantial fingers reached out to graze the boy's hair. For an instant, a wind seemed to tussle the brown locks – making the boy look up with a confused frown. Then Remus sank into the body.
The boy standing on the platform waiting for the Hogwarts Express was Remus Lupin. The year was 1971.
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A/N: Review? Please? If only to point out plot holes? Or out-of-characterisation? Or if not tell me how much you loved it