Completed: 3/21/05 7:00 PM
Posted: 3/24/05 10:05 PM
A/N: Whew! This is definitely a long one. And hopefully it'll explain a lot of what's going on. And did someone ask for a fight sequence?
A/N2: For the sake of FF being gay, segments that are written as being crossed out or stricken through are underlined. Not the same, I know...
The air between the two groups was uneasy; a raindrop hanging off the edge of the roof waiting to fall and splatter across the pavement. It was a problem that Hermione had made clear would not be confronted or challenged, but it was also too important to simply ignore. This was far different than ignoring Hermione's chilling mood swings – it was a decision about four teenagers' fates.
The days that followed were tension filled; a barrier in the air so strong, even the "emotionless" Hermione was affected by it. She was jittery and skittish whenever she didn't look as if some rampant thestral had just run over Crookshanks, and her jumpy movements made any who approached her temporarily twitchy as well; like her behavior was contagious.
Harry and Ron, becoming worried of her increased melancholy, agreed that the presence of the Marauders should have been advantageous to her "condition", but the solution had a tiny flaw. The Marauders were never around. They skipped meals, were out until all hours of the night and up before the sun rose – Hermione had even once commented under investigation that Lily and Remus had been arriving late to Arithmancy.
Ron thought there was some sort of conspiracy, and Harry rationalized that if it had been him, he would have been avoiding them like plague too – both made it a point to be there for their friend. With only one day left before the Marauders were returned to their time, the boys had teamed up to get Hermione through her day without mishap.
Losing herself in thought was becoming far too common for the Head Girl and she was often found wandering the halls with a dazed look upon her face; most especially when she was supposed to be in a class. She'd refused to eat breakfast, and was now sitting with Dumbledore through the trio's lunch break.
That was why Harry and Ron were sitting outside the tall gargoyle statue that guarded the staircase of the Headmaster's offices. Long legs stretched out before them, they slouched and leaned against the wall idly bouncing a small ball of light back and forth to one another.
"What's the time going on now?" Ron asked, prompting Harry to check the magically spinning watch he'd pulled off his wrist and laid next to his knee.
"Blimey..." Harry muttered, knocking the ball back with a swat of his hand. "Nearly an hour. If she doesn't show soon, we're all gonna be late for Care of Magical Creatures."
"Old nutter," said Ron darkly. "Can't believe she still trusts him."
Harry just shrugged. He wasn't Hermione, nor could he fathom or explain what kept drawing her back to the Headmaster's door for advice and counsel. The minutes ticked by to the odd snapping sound Harry's watch made as the animated hands chased one another around the circle, chomping their jaws in anticipation.
Stone on stone grinded out a painful squeal and boom show as the gargoyle lifted itself up and hobbled off to the side, revealing an already spinning staircase. Harry staggered to his feet, knees cracking from sitting too long on the unforgiving stones. "What was that about?" He asked, brushing off his now-dusty trousers.
"Hmm?" Hermione blinked a few times before her eyes could lock onto his face without drifting or glazing. She'd stepped off the staircase and walked a good ten paces, all without realizing either of them were there.
"That's right," she was murmuring to herself. "You walked me here..."
"Hermione?"
She made a noise of startlement, and looked back up at Harry. "Oh! Yes?"
"I asked what it was you went to see Dumbledore about. You wouldn't tell us earlier."
She smiled and Harry wished it was a true one. "Oh, nothing," she said; which seemed to be her answer for everything these days. "Just some Head business."
"Without Malfoy?" Ron asked. He'd banished the ball with a wave of his wand and was now standing as well.
"I had a few of my own questions about the ball," Hermione clarified. "Clearing a few things up, you know."
Ron and Harry exchanged looks. "Well, we better hurry if we're gonna make it to—"
"Ron...can you do me a favor?" She asked, ineterrupting him.
"Uh...sure?"
"Well you see," she began as they walked. "I need someone to set up the entertainment for the ball. Maybe you could get Fred and George to help, I don't know. The person I had before is, uh, no good."
He groaned, more in annoyance than that he was doing her a favor. "What lazy prefect am I covering for this time?"
Harry's elbow connected painfully with his chest.
"Can you just do that for me? Thanks," Hermione said without waiting for an answer. Her pace had picked up.
"Hermione." Harry called out, noticing she'd started to wander again. "The entrance hall is this way."
Wordlessly, she changed direction and headed down the first flight of stairs on the way down to the bottom floor. Ron held Harry back from following, and punched him solidly on the arm.
"What was that for?" Harry exclaimed.
"Why'd you hit me?" hissed Ron.
"Because you were being an idiot, as usual," the dark-haired wizard mocked. "She was talking about Remus, you ponce."
Ron groaned and threw up his hands. "People need to tell me these things," he griped. The red-head scuffed the floor with his shoes. "I still don't see why she won't let them fight with us against You-Know-Who."
"You mean Voldemort?" Harry corrected blandly, to which Ron glowered at him. "She has a point though. If one of them dies here..."
"But that's the thing! She also said they were still continuing to live in the past while they were living here, like two bodies or something."
Harry was...surprised. "I didn't even remember that," he confessed. "If that's true, then the body that dies here, wouldn't matter, would it? Or would that kill the body in the past?"
Ron made a face and Harry felt a headache forming between his eyes. "I have no idea how any of this time traveling works..." Harry sighed.
Ron sighed too. "But Hermione does. You've both done it, but she's been researching it since, well, before she performed the ritual I'm sure."
"All we can do is trust her," Harry reasoned. "You can believe she's researched this backwards and forwards – if the Marauders can't die in this time, then they can't die."
Ron was fussing with his tie. "Still, that's not to say they can't stay a while longer. Voldemort has no reason to specifically target them; he doesn't recognize your parents."
"You've seen how good we are at changing her mind..."
Distractedly cracking his knuckles, Ron gritted his teeth in frustration. "If we can't, then who can?"
Harry frowned a bit, then said, grimly. "The Marauders."
Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Really? You think so?"
"If they stopped avoiding her and us, and actually set their mind on changing hers..." Harry shrugged.
Ron stopped walking. "Harry?"
Lifting one eyebrow, Harry regarded his friend's sudden stop with an odd inquiring expression. "What, Ron?"
Ron pointed down the grand staircase, where all the shifting stairs could be seen straight down to the bottom, and Harry followed his gaze, though not sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be looking at.
"Where's Hermione?"
Behind closed doors, Hermione faced off with the one who'd pulled her off the stairway and into this abandoned classroom that smelled as if it had once been used as a Potions storeroom. With nothing but their soft breathing filling the room, they could hear the low, melancholy melody playing in one of the neighboring rooms; most likely Muggle Studies.
"Remus?" If she sounded surprised it was because she was.
"Hey..." Having carried out the actual act of yanking her into this classroom, presumably to talk, he'd reverted back to the Remus she'd known as a child – contemplative and careful in his speech.
Instead of reverting to her original demeanor as well, Hermione's newly established anxiety only got worse making her fumble over her words. "If it's yesterday's Arithmancy notes you need, I-I have them right here."
Routing through her satchel, Remus had to actual grab her hands to make her stop. "No, no Hermione! I didn't come for no—"
The aforementioned papers fell out of her bag and spilled in a mess across the floor. Hermione didn't meet his eyes, and Remus sighed and stepped back away, dropping her hand.
"It's not like I'll be needing them anyway," he murmured passively under his breath.
Hermione ran a distracted hand through her hair. "Look, Remus—" But he held up a hand, stopping her attempts to explain herself or whatever she had planned on saying.
"I'm sorry – It wasn't my intent to argue that particular subject with you either." He began digging in his own bag, and Hermione admitted that her curiosity was peaked. Not surprisingly, it was a book he lifted up in his hands, but it was not the kind of book she'd have found in the Library. It was a journal; dark tan leather with a tong-clasp along the side that held it shut.
He held it out to her then, and she actually feared for half a thought to take it. Then her own fingers curled around the edges, and when he was sure she'd firmly decided to take it he let go.
"Read it or don't; it's your choice. Either way I need it back by tomorrow. The others don't know I've taken it or that I'm giving it to you, but..." He stopped the busy work of re-closing his satchel and just stared at the floor, as if frozen by his own indecisiveness in words. "You at least gave us the respect to tell us of our future before sending us back; it's my personal belief that you should learn something in return."
Hermione nodded – what else could she do? – and slipped the book gingerly into her knapsack.
"I have to go...Harry and Ron will be looking for me..." With that weak excuse she pushed open the classroom door, breathed in a long draught of fresh air, and hurried off down the Grand Staircase.
Only after she'd left did Remus realize that she'd forgotten her Arithmancy notes. Going down to his knees he neatly restacked them in their rightful order by the numbers inked into the lower right hand corner of each parchment. He'd leave them back in the common room for her when she came back from dinner.
He had reached the ninth in the series of notes on "Numerology in the 1800's", when he found the tenth page covering an odd bulge in the paper pile.
Setting aside the notes he'd already collected, he brushed off the tenth page and uncovered a most peculiar thing; an envelope. He assumed it had merely gotten caught in the shuffle to hurry and get her notes out for him. It wasn't unthinkable that she kept a steady correspondence with her family, or maybe it was that Krum fellow he'd overheard Ron complaining about.
All those thoughts fled his mind as quickly as scuttling acromantulas when he turned it frontways and his own name appeared along the centre in Hermione's precise, flowing script.
Remus John Lupin
The letter hadn't gotten caught up in the notes; it had been planted there. For him to find. Not even able to think about waiting to read it back in the common room, Remus lowered himself down onto the floor and after brief hesitation slid his finger beneath the flap, breaking the wax seal.
Harry and Ron, assuming Hermione had gone on to class without them, had to run the whole way, but they made it to Care of Magical Creatures just as the third bell was tolling. Not that it would have made much difference anyway – Hagrid wouldn't have taken house points. Hermione, troublingly, wasn't there.
Lily, James, and Sirius were though, and they seemed just as anxious about their missing companion as the duo. Both groups looked around, scanning the vast grounds with their gaze, and even broke the stalemate to inquire if they'd seen Remus or Hermione, but Hagrid drew their attention back to class as he started them on the long march into the Forbidden Forest to observe dryads.
Neither Gryffindor came.
Hermione sat by the edge of the bath she'd drawn up in the Prefect's bathroom, and traced the diamond emblem embossed in the cover of the leather journal sitting in the lap of her terrycloth robe. Unhooking the tongs, she brushed them off to the side and out of her way. Well-worn parchment, crackled under her fingertips as she dragged them along the edge before flipping open the cover.
The first page was filled with varying scripts, though a majority of it was in Remus' handwriting. At the very top, in fact the first thing written, was a single sentence – all in capitals.
HARRY IS JAMES AND LILY'S SON.
It was circled.
Beneath it were various theories, some crossed out and others with explanations scribbled beside them in the margins at a later date. She flipped through the pages, not really surprised at how much they'd let slip, or what the Marauders had managed to garnish out of other people on their own. The questions and speculations ranged from their own personal lives to obscure topics like what had ever happened to their crazy Astronomy professor. There was even one voicing the thought that perhaps she and Remus were related – someone had doodled a stack of books beside the words.
The journal was nearly halfway full of these writings, but Hermione stopped where she was and flipped back to the first page. Beneath the first line was a sentence declaring James and Lily dead; a bullet point beneath gave the evidence that Harry had said himself he was an orphan. Remus and Sirius were listed below as still being alive – they hadn't yet gone back and changed those hypotheses.
A quill materialized in her hand; working itself into existence from the tip upwards. Dipping it into one of the ink wells that had appeared beside her, she circled the first most line again and the bold green ink blared obtrusively out from within the all-black page. Her hand then hovered over the next line:
James – dead.
After a moment of silent deliberation, she added two words:
Murdered; Voldemort..
At an achingly slow pace, as if her own hand sought to betray her, three more words were forced out after the first two and they were the words she wished she didn't have to be the one to tell. They read:
Betrayed; Peter Pettigrew.
She continued down the page as such; crossing out the falsehoods with red and writing her own notes in the green. It seemed to take forever just to finish that first parchment, but when she had finished she realized that the process had been more than just putting words to paper – the subject of those words had left her emotionally drained.
Lily – dead.
Murdered; Voldemort.
Betrayed; Peter Pettigrew.
Love for Harry saved him, destroyed Voldemort.
Sirius – alive.
Dead. Two years.
Murdered; Bellatrix Black.
Fell through "Veil" in Department of Mysteries.
Remus – alive.
Dead. 5 months.
Captured; Voldemort.
Set loose on Muggles; Exterminated.
Beside her the bath water had grown cold.
The single sheet of parchment was folded into thirds, creases strict and harsh in their uniformity. Hermione's letter had been written in dark blue ink, though it only spanned the length of half a page. Leaning back against one of the desks he quickly began to read.
Dear Remus,
I'm writing this letter to you because I feel that you would be the one most receptive to what I have to say. Not only that, but there is a more personal reason that I write this. Out of all the Marauders, you were the one I was closest to. The point of this letter is this: It is not for trivial purposes that I must send you back. In fact, my main motive is rather selfish. When I knew you, you and Sirius were friends of mine; Lily and James, people I admired and aspired to be like. And for the past two months—
Here the last line had been stricken out.
I'll probably never say this, and you can see I'm finding it difficult to write as well, but I care so very much about all of you, as well as the people you become. The altering of the timeline affects me a great deal less than the thought of losing those four people in my life. And for that, I do not apologize.
You trusted me when I was younger, so trust me now.
It was signed with an 'H' and nothing more.
He didn't know what to make of the letter; it almost didn't feel as though it had been written by the Hermione he knew. But there, the characteristic loop of her 't's – that was Hermione. And that faint smell of vanilla that was dispelled into the air each time the folds crinkled – that was her too.
Still in a daze, he reached for the envelope and another object slid out onto the floor. It was squarish, with a glossy sheen, but only when he flipped it over did he realize it was a photograph.
There was Hermione, sitting at what looked like a dining table, and though he realized it must have been taken when she was younger, she looked nearly identical to the way she appeared now. Her bushy hair was as unmanageable as ever, bound up in a pony-tail, and though one hand held a ridiculously burnt-orange afghan knotted shut around her shoulders the other was – typically – holding a book she was reading open on the table.
There was something going on at the other end of the photo and when he turned to look he was stunned at what he saw. There was Ron and Harry, and...him. He looked so old. His hair was a lighter brown and flecked with gray, especially along the temples. When his picture self turned to look at the picture taker he saw three claw scars stretching across the side of his face, and far too many age lines for someone in their late thirties. Was this genuinely the man he turned out to be – the one Hermione and the others had truly known?
The photo was moving, as all wizarding photos did, and he paused in his thoughts to watch the scene that had been caught on film. There was a cake sitting in front of his older self and he could piece together what was left of it to determine that it had once said 'Happy Birthday, Remus!'. It was all chocolate and he was starting to salivate just by looking at it. The pictured Ron and Harry kept trying to snag bites, but the older Remus proved quite possessive. At the other end of the table, Hermione's shoulders were shaking and it was quite obvious she was laughing. Shaking her head, she licked the spoon of the frosting bowl sitting next to her and went back to her book.
What Hermione had said had been true. They had known one another, and judging by the light atmosphere of the photograph they'd been on better than good terms. The photo was well worn and bore a stronger scent of vanilla that made his wolf senses tingle and him want to sneeze; she must have looked over the photo just recently. The back bore a line of Hermione's cursive.
March 10, 1997
It had been taken only six months before their arrival through time – his birthday; and yet Hermione had stated firmly that his future self was dead. No wonder she felt so strongly about their possible deaths, when his own had just occurred, sometime during the six months prior.
He wondered if their arguments had brought up the image of his death in her mind...
Remus decided he didn't want to know.
When at last Hermione closed the book and set down her quill, the bath beside her was ice and the candles had all melted down into their stands. Looking down at the pool-sized tub, colored a murky brown from the green bubbles that had dissolved in it by her neglect, she decided a bath didn't really seem that soothing after all and pulled the drain.
It was late – she knew that – and she'd definitely missed all her afternoon classes and most likely dinner as well; she'd have to owl the professors for her homework, though she was pretty sure she'd already done her Astronomy up through Sunday. Sighing, she got dressed, and when she left the bathroom it was with the journal tucked securely under her arm.
As she started down to the grounds for training with Harry and Ron, her paces shifted between excited and hesitant – a match to her conflicting mind. She'd already set everything in motion, but was she prepared for whatever outcome occurred?
Harry and Ron sat on the two large stones beside the lake; idly taking turns skipping smooth stones across the glassy surface. Night was beginning to fall and both cast wary glances to the castle lit up in the distance – if Hermione didn't show for training, they'd go for the Map.
"Hey..." Ron nudged him, and Harry stopped looking for new rocks to throw. "Is that her?"
Harry looked back over his shoulder and felt an instant wave of relief. The silhouette had caught sight of them and was now picking up their pace to a run...bushy ponytail whipping behind them.
"Yeah..." He said. "That's Hermione."
They watched her run closer without any sign of slowing, and when he realized she wasn't going to Harry gave a shout and pulled Ron flat against the rocks. Hermione, still in her school uniform, vaulted off the ground in front of them and, after months of training in extreme gravity, leapt high into the air. Spinning end over end, arms folded tightly over her chest and legs pressed flush against one another, she cut short Ron's annoyed "show off", flinging one arm out and flooding the clearing before her with light.
"SHOW YOURSELVES!"
Harry and Ron exchanged looks as if to say 'has she gone mental', then quickly scrambled off the rocks to stand beside her – serving as backup for whatever ghosts she'd imagined. Then movement flickered in shadows behind the illuminated trees that lined the edge of the Forbidden Forest and both boys went into high alert – wands appearing and bodies in position to attack.
Faces and then bodies moved out of the forest cover and stepped out into the clearing; the blinding light obscured their faces. Hermione herself looked menacing, the light that hid the intruders features found every line and bend in her face and filled it with shadow. Set with the grim expression she wore and the raw power streaming from her fingertips, she was a fear-inspiring sight to behold.
Hermione closed her fingers then, and so too went the light, leaving the clearing illuminated only by the power of the sinking sun. Remus, James, Sirius, and Lily stood in a line before them; each three paces apart.
"Your presence is no longer required here," Hermione told them.
Lily stepped forward. "Yes it is."
"We're not going to let you send us back," Remus swore, stepping up as well.
Ron felt Hermione stiffen beside him and cast a sidelong glance her way, but her eyes were narrowed fiercely. "Oh really?" Her mocking tone was cold and flat.
"We'll fight you if we have to, but we're not leaving," Sirius said, and Hermione fixed him straight in the eyes.
"Prove it."
If there had been something to say that would have spurred them on that was it, for even as she spoke all chaos was breaking loose. From behind each of their backs, the four teenagers produced a weapon; as well as the wand that appeared in each of their hands. At the first glint of steel, Hermione was shouting out orders to her own fighters.
A cacophony of roars rose from the Forbidden Forest as Ron called the creatures of the wood to his aid, and the Marauders scattered to keep their backs from the forest. Lily ran for high ground where she could better use her bow, Remus took up a stance on the edge of the clearing with his staff, James and Harry circled one another with their swords testing the other, and Sirius came straight for Hermione.
She dodged once, twice, then leap-frogged over him as he lunged for her. She was taunting him he knew; knew that there was a mocking smile hidden just behind the firm, serious lines of her face. Hermione dodged again, prancing backwards a step than darting just out of reach again, all without ever trying to land a hit.
Then, Sirius saw his opening – and as she was jumping back to avoid a kick, he pushed off hard with his grounded foot and punched her hard in the stomach. She took to the air like a ragdoll out of a slingshot, his magical strength propelling her across the clearing. She hit one of the sitting rocks along the water's edge with an explosion of dirt and rubble and when the smoke cleared around her sprawled body, a crack wide enough to slide a galleon through had split the stone in two.
As Sirius advanced on her unmoving body, Harry and Ron were experiencing problems of their own.
While Harry would always be his better in swordsmanship, James' courage proved infallible, urging him to take risks and attack maneuvers that didn't promise a positive outcome. But while his twin continued to fight him physically using his ability on himself, he was also turning his inexplicably mastered power on Harry, who felt his own bravery faltering.
Blocking a downward swing from James, Harry held him back as his wand came up in a split-second movement and exploded the ground at James' feet, knocking him off balance. Harry leapt upon the opportunity and brought his sword down to pin him, but not only was James already rolling out of the way with an agility he had hitherto not possessed, but Harry was brought down by one of Lily's enchanted arrows – that pierced him perfectly above the heart with magic, not iron.
With Lily watching his back as well, Remus had launched his full powers upon Ron, who was now struggling to focus and control the wild beasts that were now circling them both. Where the three most powerful abilities of the seven had obvious uses for evil, the lesser four had found their powers' darker sides to be more hidden, more sinister. Sirius could melt muscle and shatter every bone with a single touch. James could suck every last drop of courage from a body, and fill them with such fear that it either paralyzed or killed them. Lily could cut off the flow of blood in a person and completely stop their heart from beating. And he, Remus, could fill another's head with every awful, horrifying truth – millions of voices driving them to insanity.
He used this power to dredge up the truths Ron had tried to forget, feeling all the more evil for his was a personal, violating attack. He chose to only scratch the surface – stealing Ginny's prefect badge, failing Advanced Potions – but when one of the grindylows bit down on his jeans he was forced to go a bit deeper, throwing both hands out.
Voldemort was growing stronger, they were losing the war – all these he coupled with horrifying images that brought Ron down to his knees. A pair of unicorns whinnied from the fringe of the forest and reared up, shaking their silvery manes. They came back down pacing fretfully across the dirt, before one became so distressed that it stopped trying to decide what Ron was attempting to tell it and galloped into the unsuspecting Remus.
Sirius dodged a round-house from Hermione and was startled to see when he straightened, two balls of fire hurtling towards him. He rolled out of the way, and though he missed the fire attack he was caught on his knees when the lake reared to life and with a swing of Hermione's hand crashed over the lip of the clearing in a giant wave of frothing water. Sensing what was coming next, a waterlogged and sputtering Sirius barely got onto one of the sitting rocks before a bolt of lightening crashed down onto the flooded clearing and made all the water boil and crackle with conducted electricity.
"You've been practicing..."
Hermione was levitating herself, flying above the dangerous waters so as not to endanger herself before the electric current wore out, and seeing Sirius appearing helpless stranded on his rock, she swooped down on him, arms outstretched for his throat. Too fast for her to react to, the dark-haired wizard had grabbed one of her forearms, ending her levitation, and was throwing her over his shoulder. With a shriek of surprise, her free hand found his hair and her nails sunk in, pulling them both down into the electricity-charged waters.
Lily's arrow had brought a splitting pain to his head, and most of his left side was now numb, but Harry still fought on with his wand – sword hand now hanging uselessly at his side. He swept James' legs out from underneath him as he charged, and shot a stunning charm at his back. A last minute "Protego!" deflected most of the attack, but James was still disoriented as he got to his feet. As his opponent tried to get his bearings back, Harry decided it was time to us his own power.
The bow was taught, the glowing arrow held perfectly straight between her fingers, and her eyes were sighted perfectly down the shaft, but Lily was suddenly finding herself unable to fire. All her attention was focused on the heart beating so loudly within Harry's chest she wondered how no one else could hear it. And then it wasn't. Her aim was shifting with her attention and the person she was now sighting to hit...was James. A thought was worming its way through her consciousness, telling her to shoot, and she had a feeling that the thought made perfect sense. But she loved James, she would never want to hurt him...her own thought was barely a whisper as her fingers slipped off the feathers of the arrow and she let it fly.
"James!" The word, that she'd had to force from her lips, barely reached her love in time. He twisted to the side and the magical projectile missed his heart and struck him in the shoulder instead.
Both Potters were now on their knees.
Remus struck Ron in the stomach with the side of his staff, but with only one good arm it was barely enough force to knock the wind from him; the unicorn ride had left him with a dislocated elbow. Ron, temple bleeding from an earlier strike to the face, sent a swarm of snakes upon the other boy, having found the magical beasts were harder to control while Remus was invading his mind. They wrapped themselves around his legs, causing him to stumble back and only maintain standing by using his staff to brace himself. With the hissing and biting of the snakes – non-poisonous but still painful – Ron threw up his wand and shouted the disarming spell, sending Remus' staff spinning into the woods.
YOU CAN'T BEAT VOLDEMORT WITHOUT US!
Remus sent the thought screaming through the red-head's mind and at Ron's yell of pain, the snakes fell to the ground and scattered. The brunet accio-ed his weapon back and directed it, hurtling, towards Ron, whose shabbily constructed "bombarda!" shattered the wooden instrument and rained the oak shards down upon himself. Splinters embedded painfully all along his arms, which he'd thrown up to protect himself, Ron collapsed from his knees to his side and laid half-conscious on the grass, Remus' haunting truths reshuffling through his head.
Remus was unable to claim victory, however, for a glittering arrow had embedded itself in his back. His body arched, a soundless cry opening his mouth, and then the sickness-tipped arrow flickered and disappeared and he fell forward onto the ground, a rush of fever already beading his forehead with sweat and draining out his strength.
A battered Sirius and an equally haggard Hermione stumbled around the clearing, both clutching at the others throats. Not only was it hard for him to breath, but Hermione's hands were channeling pure ice, and frosted crystals were gathering around his frostbitten skin. Growing tired of their scuffle, he directed his strength not to tightening the grip on her windpipe, but on pulling her back. Slowly dragging her forcefully away, Hermione's fingers slipped off of his neck and she clawed and scratched at the exposed skin in an attempt to resume choking him.
With a grunt he threw her to the ground and she bounced on the damp bed of wildflowers. She growled up at him from her crumpled position and actually bared her teeth ferociously at him before he was thrown up into the air and then dropped as unceremoniously as she had been; something cracked, broken. She gestured with a hand to repeat the action, but this time he grabbed her first, and before he was even five feet into the air he'd launched her bodily forward like a shot-put.
She broke straight through one of the solid evergreens lining the forest and disappeared into the dark shadows of the woods, another crack! marking her fall, followed by the crash! of the tree's top half as it landed in front of Sirius, bisecting the clearing.
Lily had had enough of being controlled, and the headache only got worse as the amount of oxygen reaching Harry's brain lessened. James, weighed down on one side as the petrifying charm of Lily's arrow turned his shoulder and his arm to stone, continued to clash swords with Harry though the condition of them both made the fight a pitiful one. Sirius was hobbling over to help his fellow Marauder, and with Lily spreading the numbing spell faster through his veins, Harry was running out of options. As both his legs gave out, he gave one last ditch front and exploded with raw power.
Sirius had gained too much momentum to stop, and so as Lily jumped off her rock and flung herself right into his path, he smashed straight into her with his full strength still raging. They both went down, but it was the petite frame of Lily that went skidding across the grass like a skipping stone, and rolled to a stop against one of the trees.
James' body had turned completely to stone, but as the gray cement crept up his neck he managed one last crack. "Come on, Harry...I can still take ya..."
"You...wish..." Harry slurred – his mouth had gone numb. With one last lopsided smile, he fell onto his side and was unable to control the muscles that held his eyes open, so he looked as if he'd merely fallen asleep in the grass.
Ron had fallen, Hermione had fallen, Harry had fallen.
Lily was slowly picking herself up off the ground, and Sirius called an apology. Seeing as he was the only one still able to get to his feet, he stumbled over to James, the now nicely-posed-statue, and performed the complicated counterspell. As the stone chipped off of James' face, Sirius heard something that made him whirl around.
It was Lily's strangled "Enervate!", and it was Ron springing to his feet. Ron immediately counterspelled Harry to return the favor of controlling Lily to revive him, and with a whistle was immediately astride one of the unicorns and charging straight into the band of survivors.
Gaping at the quick turn of events, Sirius cursed Harry loudly enough for the recovering wizard to hear and demanded that James' "de-stone faster". A quick blast from Ron's wand knocked Sirius back off his feet, but that was all the farther he got because, in a daring maneuver, Lily had leapt up and tackled him straight off the unicorn. The two of them, tussling, rolled down towards the lake where Ron's summoned merfolk were throwing rocks.
"Let's switch partners shall we!" Harry exclaimed in exhilaration as the fight got back under way. True to his word he circumvented the still "thawing" James and leapt with sword in hand upon the prostrate Sirius. Their swords met in a clash of sparks and screeching metal.
James counterspelled Remus and burst free of the cement encasing his legs as the shorter boy came running up to aid him. Lily had Ron in a choking position with her bow, but his birds were swooping down and grabbing great clawfuls of her hair as the merchildren rained pebbles down upon her. Sirius had been disarmed, but he was, with his bare hands, moving Harry's sword point away from his chest and tilting the blade to Harry's throat instead. With a nod to one another, the two remaining lifted their wands high in the air and charged down into the separate battles – James to Ron and Remus to Harry – the air ringing with their adrenaline-laced yells.
"STOP!"
A seismic shock ripped through the ground, churning the soil and uprooting the grass in a devastation ripple that tore apart the combatants and flung them across the ruined clearing.
From the shadows, appeared a specter, eerie in the soft glow it emitted and the shimmering sphere around it. It took them all a moment to realize it was Hermione drifting in her magically crackling bubble to the clearing's center. Her arms were flung out like a cross and the blood of her beatings ran down them and dripped off her wrists like black teardrops. The droplets hit the bottom of the energy sphere in which she was suspended and hovered there a moment before sinking through and staining the grass ebony in the darkening sky.
"We are finished now," she said, and her voice boomed across the small space like it had been projected through a loud speaker.
The light around her flickered and she fell the short drop to the ground. On all fours, she convulsed pathetically and retched blood upon a bedraggled clump of dandelions. Appearing weaker than they'd ever seen her, the six sets of eyes watching remembered just how small a person she was. She stayed that way, head bent, without moving.
Then she cleared her throat, without any rasp or catch, and stood up to brush herself off as if nothing had happened. Ron was the one who thought to cast the lumos spell. Upon inspection from their relative positions they all saw that, though quite bloody, Hermione's face and all other parts were undamaged.
She moved to the edge of the lake and sent up a ball of light that was far more effective than Ron's pitiful glow and served to illuminate the clearing for them all. Looking at one another they were relieved to find each other unmarred as well; in the heat of the fight they'd forgotten about the Decantalus spell. The confusing part was that their fight had lasted much longer than five minutes.
"I made sure to recast the spell when needed," Hermione explained, reading their expressions. She turned back to the lake and lifted a handful of water to her face; pink rivers dribbled down her throat. "Couldn't let the lot of you go back all black and blue just because you wanted to pick a fight."
They'd all stepped up to the waters edge now and she could see Sirius' deeply engrained scowl. "We should all clean up." Wordlessly, the others kneeled down alongside her and there was only the sound of hands splashing the water for a long time.
Then Remus' voice broke over the sound of water. "Hermione..." He made sure to get her attention before he pulled the slender box out of his pocket and handed it to you. "Um, call it a farewell gift."
Hermione sat back on her haunches and regarded him stoically. She took the box, but said: "I thought you were going to 'stop me from sending you back'."
Adorably, Remus smiled at her, though there was a line of dried blood across his nose that he'd missed. He shrugged. "Just in case..."
She snorted, but pulled off the lid all the same. The backs of her hands were still caked with trails of blood, and there was dirt and worse stuck under her fingernails, but her palms were relatively clean, and as it was, she couldn't resist picking up the object nestled inside the modest white box.
It was a locket.
The linked chain was heavy and bore on its end a goodly-sized, oval shaped casing that promised to hold a picture within. She opened the clasp and rather than finding a picture a light beamed out in front of her and like a little projection it played the same short scene over and over again. It was the scene in the wizarding photo she'd given him.
Hermione watched it as if mesmerized and then quickly shut it again as if the extra eyes watching it made the gift and what it contained somehow less personal. Doing so, she noticed the words engraved on the back:
"I understand"
Hermione pooled the heavy chain in her hand and closed her fingers around the precious locket. "Thank you," she whispered throatily, and Remus knew enough not to say anything in return or the moment would be ruined.
Hermione cleared her throat and added in a low voice: "Your book is over there, uh," she had to cough to clear her throat again. "On the rock."
"Oh," he said – what else was there to say? "Okay."
Hermione, having pocketed the locket, then shoved her arms under the water up to her elbow and, deeming herself satisfactory got up and made ready to leave. Re-sheathing her wand, she fixed her hair and said, without looking back; "You should all get to bed. We have classes in the morning."
Harry and Ron ran up to her, but Lily and the Marauders were left frozen. Almost as though they were afraid that speaking of it would make what had happened just disappear, they exchanged shocked looks.
"Do you think—"
"Really?"
More looks.
"Does this mean we get to stay?" Lily called out, but Hermione was already halfway up the long trek back to the castle. The redhead turned back to the boys with eyes a bit wider than normal and said in a clearly dazed voice "I guess we passed."
Sirius, of course, took this moment to boast. "I told you I was right...yeah, bet there's some pretty red faces in this lot."
"Padfoot, you can't see our faces..."
"Lucky for you Prongsie; think of your pride!"
Stepping back from the light banter, Remus quickly jogged over to the rocks Hermione had indicated and felt around in the weak light for the notebook. He found the soft leather after a few seconds of groping and pulled the book into the protective confines of his jacket. Once it was secure he hurried to catch up with the others who'd already started for home.
It was later that night, when James had gone to check on Lily and Sirius was embarking on a solo kitchen raid, when curiosity called to Remus in the shape of the familiar journal. He supposed he was just wondering if whether or not Hermione had indeed looked at it, but whatever the case he found himself leaning over his bed and digging the book out from one of the crates he kept there.
Meticulously he packed his Transfiguration homework away, but really it was a vain attempt at distracting him from the temptation the book provided. Finally, all that was left in his lap was the journal. He undid the tongs, but left it shut. Remus swore he was just going to open it to the middle of the pages to see if she'd left her characteristic vanilla scent, thereby proving she'd read it.
With a quick jerk he opened it to a random page, but got no further than that. The page was filled with green writing – Hermione's cursive. Disbelieving, he flipped through the rest of the book and it was all the same. He turned back to the first page, his own name catching his attention, and he was physically unable to stop himself from reading.
Remus – alive.
Dead. 5 months...
