Hope of the Phoenix (4/?)
Pairing: eventually Remus/ Petunia
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns it all; you can tell cos' I'm still poor,
and she isn't.
A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I will try and differentiate between speech and narration more clearly for you, Tsuchi! Anyway, on with Chapter 4!
Chapter 4: Nightmares
The full moon could hardly be seen from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where they were running. The stag, with the rat resting on top of his shoulders, had leapt ahead from the rest of the pack, but the wolf and the dog were quickly gaining on them.
Moony could see the dim shape of Prongs up ahead, and could smell that Wormtail was with him. He could sense Padfoot running beside him, and felt the familiar rush of excitement that always rushed through him when he was with his pack.
As they raced along, though, Moony began to smell another scent; someone was coming that did not belong. Even as he increased his pace, another werewolf leapt out from the right, and leaped onto Prongs. Wormtail fled, squeaking, into the underbrush, and he could smell the blood seeping from Prongs' torn neck. However, before he could reach the werewolf, Padfoot ran ahead, growling a challenge – and then he too was thrown aside by the wolf, quickly falling into the brush, and Moony knew with a dreadful certainty that he was dead.
Moony turned quickly to face the attacker, to make the wolf pay for stealing his family, for taking his pack from him. But the other wolf was gone. Moony howled to the full moon, all the rage and loneliness he had ever felt was channeled into his mournful cry...
Remus woke with a start, as the morning sun crept into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. He looked around quickly for the body of the stag, before he realized that it had been a dream. But the emptiness and the loneliness remained.
He looked wearily around him, his bones still aching from the full moon a few nights before, and from his days of camping out in the forest. Given that Dumbledore's attempts to win over the giants to the Order's side had failed, he had sent Remus to try and win over as many of the werewolves as he could. Since they were human most of the time, Remus had hoped that his brethren would agree to fight Voldemort.
But his attempt had failed. The other werewolves had not had the advantage of education that Dumbledore had given him. They were angry at the racist treatment they had received from the wizarding community, at the anti- werewolf laws that the Ministry had past. A few had promised to carefully weigh the options before agreeing to join with Voldemort, but most had refused Dumbledore's option. Remus would be returning that day to Grimmauld Place, as the other werewolves had all left to return to their own lives. They wouldn't stay so long after the full moon. Remus dreaded his return. Since Sirius had been killed, he had tried to keep busy. He didn't feel so alone when he was working, and that was something. With Sirius' death, all his links to his old life were gone. He would never again have his family, but at the least he could have his revenge.
The sunshine that had snuck its way into the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest was at that moment having a much easier time assaulting the dusty darkness that was Petunia Dursley's bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Its bright, healthy beams danced in front of her weary eyes, as if in mockery of her weariness and grief.
As Petunia rolled out of bed, her first thought was surprise that Vernon was already up.
"He never gets up before me!" she wondered aloud.
But then her sleepy mind woke up enough to take in the strange surroundings, the bed with the carved lizards feet, the dust that was visible in the dancing sunbeams, the pictures of unpleasant looking people who still seemed to be looking at her ...
"Who never gets up before you? Who are you talking about, you filthy Muggle. How the house of Black has fallen. I wouldn't have let one in back in my day. Especially such a particularly ugly one."
Petunia spun around, looking to see who had come to the door; who was speaking so rudely. But there was no one there. The voice continued its tirade.
"Isn't that just like a Muggle, looking at the door! They don't have any sense at all in those tiny little brains. Don't know why we let them live, should have killed the lot years ago."
It was then that Petunia noticed the picture hanging just over the bed was moving. In it was a crabby looking old man, who seemed to be about hundred. He was wearing black wizards robes, and his eyes glared at her in anger. He was muttering something about ugly, skinny Muggles shaming the honour of his house, and how it wasn't his fault, he had tried to bring forth the Muggle Torture Act, but that blood traitor Reginald Weasley had scrapped it, and those fools at the Ministry had accepted the first Muggle Protection Act instead.
Petunia stumbled out of the door. She was in the middle of her worst nightmare. The memory of her husband and son's bodies had come back, and she was stuck in the wizarding world, stuck in this freaky house.
She had barely made it out onto the landing off the stairs when she screamed again. There had been a loud pop, and two red-haired teenagers, sporting identical grins, had appeared out of nowhere, right in front of her.
"Hi" one said.
"You must be" started the other.
"Harry's aunt" finished the first.
"If you will accompany us, milady," said one of the twins with an exaggerated flourish, as he offered her his arm. "Mum asked us to escort you down for breakfast."
As she walked down the stairs with the two boys, she began to remember something. "Weren't you the two that gave my Dudley that horrible candy, and who helped destroy my living room?"
"Hey, Fred, she remembers us!" called the one whose arm Petunia was currently hanging on. "Yep, that was one of our more brilliant pranks." He grinned at her cheekily.
She glared at him, remembering how terrified and angry she had been. But as she thought of that afternoon, and could see Dudley's tongue lolling out of his mouth, her mind had wandered out of her living room in Privet Drive, and back to her parents' house. She remembered Lily's seventeenth birthday, when Lily, overjoyed at being able to use magic, had accidentally inflated Peter with an Inflation Charm. She and Remus had had to hold onto his legs to stop the poor boy from floating into the air; what would the neighbours have said, while James and Sirius rolled around on the ground, laughing. Her memory of that fun day was so infectious that she started to laugh too. She had to sit down on the stairs, she was laughing so hard. But her thoughts of Dudley had made her cry as well, as she thought about how terrified she had been that day.
Fred and George stared at her in amazement. The angry, terrified women who they had met previously, and who that had met again this morning, was sitting on the stairs, laughing uproariously, but she was crying at the same time.
"His tongue was so long, he nearly tripped! I was so scared," she gasped. Then she sobered suddenly. "Oh, my poor Dudley." She was so quiet for the next little bit that the twins began to worry if they had somehow offended her. Then she got up, took George's arm, and walked calmly with them into the kitchen.
As she walked down the hallway, Petunia could smell the wholesome smell of cooking bacon, and could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen. There was clearly more than one person up for breakfast. Petunia was suddenly aware of how hungry she was. She also felt a sense of relief at how nice it was not to have to cook for once, to be served a breakfast that she hadn't made herself. That thought was accompanied by a shot of grief though, as she recalled why she didn't have to make breakfast.
But all thoughts were driven from her head as she saw just who was sitting at the table. He had aged, there was more grey in his light brown hair, and he was thinner, his clothes more ragged. There was grief and tiredness written on his face that hadn't been there before. But the sight of him, sitting there at the table, was so achingly familiar that there could be no doubt. It was he.
"Remus?" she heard herself gasp.
Remus looked up from his plate of sausage, toast, and bacon, startled.
"Petunia?" he whispered. "How did you get here?"
A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I will try and differentiate between speech and narration more clearly for you, Tsuchi! Anyway, on with Chapter 4!
Chapter 4: Nightmares
The full moon could hardly be seen from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where they were running. The stag, with the rat resting on top of his shoulders, had leapt ahead from the rest of the pack, but the wolf and the dog were quickly gaining on them.
Moony could see the dim shape of Prongs up ahead, and could smell that Wormtail was with him. He could sense Padfoot running beside him, and felt the familiar rush of excitement that always rushed through him when he was with his pack.
As they raced along, though, Moony began to smell another scent; someone was coming that did not belong. Even as he increased his pace, another werewolf leapt out from the right, and leaped onto Prongs. Wormtail fled, squeaking, into the underbrush, and he could smell the blood seeping from Prongs' torn neck. However, before he could reach the werewolf, Padfoot ran ahead, growling a challenge – and then he too was thrown aside by the wolf, quickly falling into the brush, and Moony knew with a dreadful certainty that he was dead.
Moony turned quickly to face the attacker, to make the wolf pay for stealing his family, for taking his pack from him. But the other wolf was gone. Moony howled to the full moon, all the rage and loneliness he had ever felt was channeled into his mournful cry...
Remus woke with a start, as the morning sun crept into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. He looked around quickly for the body of the stag, before he realized that it had been a dream. But the emptiness and the loneliness remained.
He looked wearily around him, his bones still aching from the full moon a few nights before, and from his days of camping out in the forest. Given that Dumbledore's attempts to win over the giants to the Order's side had failed, he had sent Remus to try and win over as many of the werewolves as he could. Since they were human most of the time, Remus had hoped that his brethren would agree to fight Voldemort.
But his attempt had failed. The other werewolves had not had the advantage of education that Dumbledore had given him. They were angry at the racist treatment they had received from the wizarding community, at the anti- werewolf laws that the Ministry had past. A few had promised to carefully weigh the options before agreeing to join with Voldemort, but most had refused Dumbledore's option. Remus would be returning that day to Grimmauld Place, as the other werewolves had all left to return to their own lives. They wouldn't stay so long after the full moon. Remus dreaded his return. Since Sirius had been killed, he had tried to keep busy. He didn't feel so alone when he was working, and that was something. With Sirius' death, all his links to his old life were gone. He would never again have his family, but at the least he could have his revenge.
The sunshine that had snuck its way into the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest was at that moment having a much easier time assaulting the dusty darkness that was Petunia Dursley's bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Its bright, healthy beams danced in front of her weary eyes, as if in mockery of her weariness and grief.
As Petunia rolled out of bed, her first thought was surprise that Vernon was already up.
"He never gets up before me!" she wondered aloud.
But then her sleepy mind woke up enough to take in the strange surroundings, the bed with the carved lizards feet, the dust that was visible in the dancing sunbeams, the pictures of unpleasant looking people who still seemed to be looking at her ...
"Who never gets up before you? Who are you talking about, you filthy Muggle. How the house of Black has fallen. I wouldn't have let one in back in my day. Especially such a particularly ugly one."
Petunia spun around, looking to see who had come to the door; who was speaking so rudely. But there was no one there. The voice continued its tirade.
"Isn't that just like a Muggle, looking at the door! They don't have any sense at all in those tiny little brains. Don't know why we let them live, should have killed the lot years ago."
It was then that Petunia noticed the picture hanging just over the bed was moving. In it was a crabby looking old man, who seemed to be about hundred. He was wearing black wizards robes, and his eyes glared at her in anger. He was muttering something about ugly, skinny Muggles shaming the honour of his house, and how it wasn't his fault, he had tried to bring forth the Muggle Torture Act, but that blood traitor Reginald Weasley had scrapped it, and those fools at the Ministry had accepted the first Muggle Protection Act instead.
Petunia stumbled out of the door. She was in the middle of her worst nightmare. The memory of her husband and son's bodies had come back, and she was stuck in the wizarding world, stuck in this freaky house.
She had barely made it out onto the landing off the stairs when she screamed again. There had been a loud pop, and two red-haired teenagers, sporting identical grins, had appeared out of nowhere, right in front of her.
"Hi" one said.
"You must be" started the other.
"Harry's aunt" finished the first.
"If you will accompany us, milady," said one of the twins with an exaggerated flourish, as he offered her his arm. "Mum asked us to escort you down for breakfast."
As she walked down the stairs with the two boys, she began to remember something. "Weren't you the two that gave my Dudley that horrible candy, and who helped destroy my living room?"
"Hey, Fred, she remembers us!" called the one whose arm Petunia was currently hanging on. "Yep, that was one of our more brilliant pranks." He grinned at her cheekily.
She glared at him, remembering how terrified and angry she had been. But as she thought of that afternoon, and could see Dudley's tongue lolling out of his mouth, her mind had wandered out of her living room in Privet Drive, and back to her parents' house. She remembered Lily's seventeenth birthday, when Lily, overjoyed at being able to use magic, had accidentally inflated Peter with an Inflation Charm. She and Remus had had to hold onto his legs to stop the poor boy from floating into the air; what would the neighbours have said, while James and Sirius rolled around on the ground, laughing. Her memory of that fun day was so infectious that she started to laugh too. She had to sit down on the stairs, she was laughing so hard. But her thoughts of Dudley had made her cry as well, as she thought about how terrified she had been that day.
Fred and George stared at her in amazement. The angry, terrified women who they had met previously, and who that had met again this morning, was sitting on the stairs, laughing uproariously, but she was crying at the same time.
"His tongue was so long, he nearly tripped! I was so scared," she gasped. Then she sobered suddenly. "Oh, my poor Dudley." She was so quiet for the next little bit that the twins began to worry if they had somehow offended her. Then she got up, took George's arm, and walked calmly with them into the kitchen.
As she walked down the hallway, Petunia could smell the wholesome smell of cooking bacon, and could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen. There was clearly more than one person up for breakfast. Petunia was suddenly aware of how hungry she was. She also felt a sense of relief at how nice it was not to have to cook for once, to be served a breakfast that she hadn't made herself. That thought was accompanied by a shot of grief though, as she recalled why she didn't have to make breakfast.
But all thoughts were driven from her head as she saw just who was sitting at the table. He had aged, there was more grey in his light brown hair, and he was thinner, his clothes more ragged. There was grief and tiredness written on his face that hadn't been there before. But the sight of him, sitting there at the table, was so achingly familiar that there could be no doubt. It was he.
"Remus?" she heard herself gasp.
Remus looked up from his plate of sausage, toast, and bacon, startled.
"Petunia?" he whispered. "How did you get here?"