(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
(Warning for readers under 13: Again, it's rated PG-13. You know the drill.)
The world was a ruin. The skies always smoldered with green and red; Dark Marks and fire. They had hit a bottom, and England was in a state of pure fear. No one was safe. No one wasn't a victim anymore.
Diagon Alley was empty, and the only people visible in the streets were Ministry officials and the shopkeepers and the goblins inside Gringotts. The cobblestone streets that would have been filled with hundreds of wizards and witches were now bare and completely vacant. The Leaky Cauldron was no longer alive, due to the fact that the Ministry had told Tom the barkeeper to make a curfew no later than five o' clock. Platform 9 ¾ was shut out to anyone that was not directly a student from Hogwarts. All parents and guardians and family members were not aloud into the barrier, and the students were herded in a straight line by Ministry officials directly from the train doors to the barrier. The color of the world had turned gray. There was no smiling face on the streets when the wizarding world did venture onto the streets.
Every day, a new flag could be seen in a wizard's homes. Every time that anyone was added to the memorial, or killed in the War, the Ministry would send one official, along with a green letter and a flag to the survivors of the fallen. The bowler hats that were the trademark for these messengers, and if one was to have been visited by them, they were to be said to have been "Bowlered."
The flags that were issued out to the families were very plain. It had the silhouette of a man kneeling, his hat taken off and pressed to his heart. The words "The Greatest Sacrifice" was written above, and on any given day, one could walk down a wizarding street, and see at least one of these flags in the front windows of each house. The shadow of the man was duplicated as one continued walking down the street, and soon, all that that person could make out would be hundreds of these men, bowing their heads to an unseen force.
There were as many of those as there were Dark Marks in the sky on any given night or day.
And with every flag, and every call to duty, Remus's heart fell farther and farther into despair. Those days of laughing and happiness seemed to be so far away. Everything had changed. And they couldn't ignore this horrible world anymore. Sirius couldn't just say, "Get under the cloak and we can go play in the snow." Now they had to stop this force that was defying everything that he loved. And there was no escaping it.
Sometimes the Ministry officials would be so busy that they wouldn't have enough Bowlers to go out and spread the joyful news. That's when Dumbledore and Moody would be called in to find replacements.
And that's when Remus would have to answer the calls, and Bowler the unsuspecting people. They chose him because of his calm and quiet attitude. It somehow soothed the poor families better than Sirius's dark faces, Peter's stuttering, Lily's tears, and James's speeches. For he could act like a normal human being. He had taught himself to keep his emotions at bay and inside of him, unlike Sirius. So he had been stuck with the job of Bowlering people.
He had grown to hate those green letters and those stupid flags. He hated every one of them that he had to deliver. Every time that he helped a sobbing mother, or a shaking husband help hang the flag in the window, he felt as if he had let them down. He was supposed to be saving their lives. And yet, nothing that he or the rest of the Order did helped.
Sometimes it felt like a lost cause.
Giants roamed the European countryside, and they were slowly making their way to the United Kingdom. They were brutal. Like large bringers of death that swept across the wheat fields and villages, pillaging everything in their sights.
On every street corner, there was a black cloak. They weren't scared of the Order anymore. Supporters of Voldemort flooded the streets, shouting to the citizens to join their ranks, handing out pamphlets. They didn't care if they were arrested. They were recruiting large amounts of people now, and they were an army unlike any other.
They were the Death Eaters.
They were Voldemort's pawns.
But they were still focused on the king. For Moody was right. If they killed the king, the pawns would also fall.
This was all running through his mind as he sat in the living room of the next family to be a victim of the war. He didn't have a bowler hat on, since he thought that it would be better if he didn't fit the stereotype of the bearer of bad news. He sipped his tea as he gave a wry smile to an older woman, who had been the wife of a man named Werster. Mrs. Werster had no idea why he was there. He felt terrible as he saw her face when he took out the small flag and the green letter. She cried out in horror, and then buried her face in her hands.
"Last night," Remus said quietly, "By a man that we now have in custody."
"He was a good man," Mrs. Werster said, taking the flag, "He was the best man I ever knew. I loved him."
And then she broke down again, sobbing into her hands.
"I know," Remus said, "But he gave his life to a good cause. You should be proud. He wouldn't have wanted you to be unhappy, Mrs. Werster."
He said all of the right things. That's why they always sent him. He wouldn't go on for a half an hour about eyes in Heaven and protecting the world like James. He wouldn't start swearing and throwing furniture like Sirius. He wouldn't cry like Lily or Peter. He would be Remus. Whatever the person in need needed, he would be.
Your husband died for a good cause.
He was a good man.
He loved his family.
The words coming out of his mouth was bollocks. He hadn't known the man. He hadn't known anything about him. And yet . . . and yet he was talking as if he knew him as well as his own wife.
He didn't know how much longer he could Bowler these people.
"Would you help me hang this?" the woman said, taking the flag out of his hands with shaking fingers, "I . . . I believe that I'm too old to get it straight on the window. And . . ."
"Of course," Remus stood, taking the flag and walking over to the window.
"If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" Mrs. Werster asked as he took out his wand to stick it to the pane of glass. Remus turned around. No one had asked him his name before. No one had cared.
"Remus," he said quietly, "Remus Lupin."
"Mr. Lupin, you aren't like the other Bowlers," she said, "I had another one in here last week for my sister. I know what you lot are doing is the right thing. Even when it seems like you're losing, you have to keep going. Remember that. Mr. Werster would have fought until the end if only . . ."
And then she broke off in another fit of tears, and excused herself to the kitchen.
Two Bowlers in two weeks.
Remus took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. How much longer was this War going to last?
How much longer was he going to last?
The sky was blazing with green again. The entire mansion in front of them was hollow, and filled with a tinge of emerald. The gates were closed, and the only sign that anything had happened here was the skull and snake high above the house, peering down at the Order Members as they entered the dead grounds. The reporters had already arrived and was now crowding the fence, trying to get a quote from one of the Aurors. Sirius looked over to them, as someone flashed a picture of him.
"Can we have your name, sir?" A man shouted, holding his quill out.
"Geroff," Sirius growled, and James took his arm.
"Don't," he said, "Remember. We're not here to kill them."
Sirius shook himself free of James as they walked up the narrow sidewalk to the front door. Remus trudged behind the others, looking at the Dark Mark that was hovering over the house. The mansion had belonged to the Vincents.
BAM!
The house's door exploded, and flew out onto the porch. A smoke came out of the house, and the six Aurors shielded their eyes as they turned away from the blinding red light, now mixing with the green. The reporters gasped, but didn't run. They started snapping pictures at an alarming rate, as the smoke flew onto the porch and then onto the yard, engulfing Moody and the other members.
James grabbed Lily, and put his cloak over her mouth. She pushed away from him, and ran to Moody, who was leading them into the house.
"What is that?" she coughed as Moody scanned the walls of the house with his swiveling eye.
"They're still here," he snarled, and then pushed forward, "Come on, children. Let's get going."
They trudged closer to the front doors, all of them using their cloaks as bandanas to keep the smoke out of their lungs. Remus's eyes stung as he followed Marlene and Diggle into the front hall. It was larger. These people had been very rich.
They had been having a family reunion tonight, it seemed. Very stupid in these times. Especially when your father was a highly respected officer in the Ministry. Mr. Vincent had been one of the speakers against Voldemort from the beginning. And now he was dead.
They knew this because his body was laying, a party hat attached to his head, in the middle of the marble floor. Remus closed his eyes as they entered, not wanting to look at the scene before him. He had seen it too many times.
The smoke cleared, and Moody lowered his cloak from his mouth.
"They're here," he said, his swiveling eye examining the walls and entranceways, "Spread out. Find them. Take only prisoners," he added, eyeing Remus.
Remus's expression didn't change.
Lily and James walked in one direction, while Marlene and Emmeline made their way farther into what looked like the parlor. The music was still playing softly in the background. It was classical. They had been having a good time when the Death Eaters had struck.
The music echoed through the halls quietly as Remus drew his wand, and with Peter next to him, entered the ballroom. There was a silence as the music chimed through the room in its calmness. It just added to the ominous tone.
"Stay close," Remus ordered, and then he scanned the room. More Vincents dead.
"Oh, God," Lily whispered, following them in as James and Sirius went to check the upstairs, "Are they all dead?"
"It looks like it," Remus said, and then he heard a clang from his right. His head snapped over to where the noise had come from, and Peter gave a squeak.
"What was that?"
Remus didn't answer, but crossed the room to where he had heard the clash, and surveyed the area, "Nothing," he reported, looking into the kitchen off of the ballroom.
The ballroom was large, with a high ceiling and a polished floor that reflected the people standing ontop of it. A chandielier was hanging from the top of the ceiling, swinging dangerously in the wind that was coming through the now open windows. The golden walls shone back at the three as they made their way farther into the room, and stopped.
A shadow stood in the corner.
Smiling at them.
"Ah," it said, "It is the werewolf again."
The voice was thickly laced with a Russian accent, and Remus's shoulders tensed. The classical music still rang through his ears as he held his wand out to the Death Eater.
"Antonin Dolohov," he said in a strong voice, "You are under arrest."
(Warning for readers under 13: Again, it's rated PG-13. You know the drill.)
The world was a ruin. The skies always smoldered with green and red; Dark Marks and fire. They had hit a bottom, and England was in a state of pure fear. No one was safe. No one wasn't a victim anymore.
Diagon Alley was empty, and the only people visible in the streets were Ministry officials and the shopkeepers and the goblins inside Gringotts. The cobblestone streets that would have been filled with hundreds of wizards and witches were now bare and completely vacant. The Leaky Cauldron was no longer alive, due to the fact that the Ministry had told Tom the barkeeper to make a curfew no later than five o' clock. Platform 9 ¾ was shut out to anyone that was not directly a student from Hogwarts. All parents and guardians and family members were not aloud into the barrier, and the students were herded in a straight line by Ministry officials directly from the train doors to the barrier. The color of the world had turned gray. There was no smiling face on the streets when the wizarding world did venture onto the streets.
Every day, a new flag could be seen in a wizard's homes. Every time that anyone was added to the memorial, or killed in the War, the Ministry would send one official, along with a green letter and a flag to the survivors of the fallen. The bowler hats that were the trademark for these messengers, and if one was to have been visited by them, they were to be said to have been "Bowlered."
The flags that were issued out to the families were very plain. It had the silhouette of a man kneeling, his hat taken off and pressed to his heart. The words "The Greatest Sacrifice" was written above, and on any given day, one could walk down a wizarding street, and see at least one of these flags in the front windows of each house. The shadow of the man was duplicated as one continued walking down the street, and soon, all that that person could make out would be hundreds of these men, bowing their heads to an unseen force.
There were as many of those as there were Dark Marks in the sky on any given night or day.
And with every flag, and every call to duty, Remus's heart fell farther and farther into despair. Those days of laughing and happiness seemed to be so far away. Everything had changed. And they couldn't ignore this horrible world anymore. Sirius couldn't just say, "Get under the cloak and we can go play in the snow." Now they had to stop this force that was defying everything that he loved. And there was no escaping it.
Sometimes the Ministry officials would be so busy that they wouldn't have enough Bowlers to go out and spread the joyful news. That's when Dumbledore and Moody would be called in to find replacements.
And that's when Remus would have to answer the calls, and Bowler the unsuspecting people. They chose him because of his calm and quiet attitude. It somehow soothed the poor families better than Sirius's dark faces, Peter's stuttering, Lily's tears, and James's speeches. For he could act like a normal human being. He had taught himself to keep his emotions at bay and inside of him, unlike Sirius. So he had been stuck with the job of Bowlering people.
He had grown to hate those green letters and those stupid flags. He hated every one of them that he had to deliver. Every time that he helped a sobbing mother, or a shaking husband help hang the flag in the window, he felt as if he had let them down. He was supposed to be saving their lives. And yet, nothing that he or the rest of the Order did helped.
Sometimes it felt like a lost cause.
Giants roamed the European countryside, and they were slowly making their way to the United Kingdom. They were brutal. Like large bringers of death that swept across the wheat fields and villages, pillaging everything in their sights.
On every street corner, there was a black cloak. They weren't scared of the Order anymore. Supporters of Voldemort flooded the streets, shouting to the citizens to join their ranks, handing out pamphlets. They didn't care if they were arrested. They were recruiting large amounts of people now, and they were an army unlike any other.
They were the Death Eaters.
They were Voldemort's pawns.
But they were still focused on the king. For Moody was right. If they killed the king, the pawns would also fall.
This was all running through his mind as he sat in the living room of the next family to be a victim of the war. He didn't have a bowler hat on, since he thought that it would be better if he didn't fit the stereotype of the bearer of bad news. He sipped his tea as he gave a wry smile to an older woman, who had been the wife of a man named Werster. Mrs. Werster had no idea why he was there. He felt terrible as he saw her face when he took out the small flag and the green letter. She cried out in horror, and then buried her face in her hands.
"Last night," Remus said quietly, "By a man that we now have in custody."
"He was a good man," Mrs. Werster said, taking the flag, "He was the best man I ever knew. I loved him."
And then she broke down again, sobbing into her hands.
"I know," Remus said, "But he gave his life to a good cause. You should be proud. He wouldn't have wanted you to be unhappy, Mrs. Werster."
He said all of the right things. That's why they always sent him. He wouldn't go on for a half an hour about eyes in Heaven and protecting the world like James. He wouldn't start swearing and throwing furniture like Sirius. He wouldn't cry like Lily or Peter. He would be Remus. Whatever the person in need needed, he would be.
Your husband died for a good cause.
He was a good man.
He loved his family.
The words coming out of his mouth was bollocks. He hadn't known the man. He hadn't known anything about him. And yet . . . and yet he was talking as if he knew him as well as his own wife.
He didn't know how much longer he could Bowler these people.
"Would you help me hang this?" the woman said, taking the flag out of his hands with shaking fingers, "I . . . I believe that I'm too old to get it straight on the window. And . . ."
"Of course," Remus stood, taking the flag and walking over to the window.
"If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" Mrs. Werster asked as he took out his wand to stick it to the pane of glass. Remus turned around. No one had asked him his name before. No one had cared.
"Remus," he said quietly, "Remus Lupin."
"Mr. Lupin, you aren't like the other Bowlers," she said, "I had another one in here last week for my sister. I know what you lot are doing is the right thing. Even when it seems like you're losing, you have to keep going. Remember that. Mr. Werster would have fought until the end if only . . ."
And then she broke off in another fit of tears, and excused herself to the kitchen.
Two Bowlers in two weeks.
Remus took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. How much longer was this War going to last?
How much longer was he going to last?
The sky was blazing with green again. The entire mansion in front of them was hollow, and filled with a tinge of emerald. The gates were closed, and the only sign that anything had happened here was the skull and snake high above the house, peering down at the Order Members as they entered the dead grounds. The reporters had already arrived and was now crowding the fence, trying to get a quote from one of the Aurors. Sirius looked over to them, as someone flashed a picture of him.
"Can we have your name, sir?" A man shouted, holding his quill out.
"Geroff," Sirius growled, and James took his arm.
"Don't," he said, "Remember. We're not here to kill them."
Sirius shook himself free of James as they walked up the narrow sidewalk to the front door. Remus trudged behind the others, looking at the Dark Mark that was hovering over the house. The mansion had belonged to the Vincents.
BAM!
The house's door exploded, and flew out onto the porch. A smoke came out of the house, and the six Aurors shielded their eyes as they turned away from the blinding red light, now mixing with the green. The reporters gasped, but didn't run. They started snapping pictures at an alarming rate, as the smoke flew onto the porch and then onto the yard, engulfing Moody and the other members.
James grabbed Lily, and put his cloak over her mouth. She pushed away from him, and ran to Moody, who was leading them into the house.
"What is that?" she coughed as Moody scanned the walls of the house with his swiveling eye.
"They're still here," he snarled, and then pushed forward, "Come on, children. Let's get going."
They trudged closer to the front doors, all of them using their cloaks as bandanas to keep the smoke out of their lungs. Remus's eyes stung as he followed Marlene and Diggle into the front hall. It was larger. These people had been very rich.
They had been having a family reunion tonight, it seemed. Very stupid in these times. Especially when your father was a highly respected officer in the Ministry. Mr. Vincent had been one of the speakers against Voldemort from the beginning. And now he was dead.
They knew this because his body was laying, a party hat attached to his head, in the middle of the marble floor. Remus closed his eyes as they entered, not wanting to look at the scene before him. He had seen it too many times.
The smoke cleared, and Moody lowered his cloak from his mouth.
"They're here," he said, his swiveling eye examining the walls and entranceways, "Spread out. Find them. Take only prisoners," he added, eyeing Remus.
Remus's expression didn't change.
Lily and James walked in one direction, while Marlene and Emmeline made their way farther into what looked like the parlor. The music was still playing softly in the background. It was classical. They had been having a good time when the Death Eaters had struck.
The music echoed through the halls quietly as Remus drew his wand, and with Peter next to him, entered the ballroom. There was a silence as the music chimed through the room in its calmness. It just added to the ominous tone.
"Stay close," Remus ordered, and then he scanned the room. More Vincents dead.
"Oh, God," Lily whispered, following them in as James and Sirius went to check the upstairs, "Are they all dead?"
"It looks like it," Remus said, and then he heard a clang from his right. His head snapped over to where the noise had come from, and Peter gave a squeak.
"What was that?"
Remus didn't answer, but crossed the room to where he had heard the clash, and surveyed the area, "Nothing," he reported, looking into the kitchen off of the ballroom.
The ballroom was large, with a high ceiling and a polished floor that reflected the people standing ontop of it. A chandielier was hanging from the top of the ceiling, swinging dangerously in the wind that was coming through the now open windows. The golden walls shone back at the three as they made their way farther into the room, and stopped.
A shadow stood in the corner.
Smiling at them.
"Ah," it said, "It is the werewolf again."
The voice was thickly laced with a Russian accent, and Remus's shoulders tensed. The classical music still rang through his ears as he held his wand out to the Death Eater.
"Antonin Dolohov," he said in a strong voice, "You are under arrest."