I hate the HP movies...I hate them I hate them I hate them!!!!! I know that
I'm being sort of...rude...by saying this, but what was Rowling thinking?
Only English kids get to be Harry Potter?????? At least there would've been
more choices for a GOOD person to play the kid if she'd allowed other
countries to try out....But then, as a good friend of mine says, Rowling
probably just wants this to be something only for England, something that
all people to remember only England for...I guess....but really...they at
least could've found a better person for the part....
Anyway, while reading all my reviews (thank you all!) I found the first one
so far that has actually offended me. Won't say the name, because I'm not
sure if someone wants me to say....but it was referring to the length of my
chappies in (*clears throat*) a rather rude way. But, oh well, I can't win
you all over, now can I?
Oh yeah! One more thing! I keep forgetting to answer this one person's
question...Let's see...she asked why Ron would ask Hermione to marry him so
early, because they ARE in 6th year, after all. Actually, I have no idea,
whatsoever why he would do that, but it does seem like a Ronnish thing to
do, if you think about it. It was sort of a spur of the moment thing that I
added, and perhaps I'll add it into the plot somehow later on...
CHAPTER TWENTY: REMUS AND MOONY
"I..." Harry said, almost stuttering, "...you....do you...you don't...want to know."
"Why not? Really! It can't be all that bad! It's not like we're dead!" James was laughing, but his laughter didn't last long. Harry wasn't laughing, too, and so James's quieted, dwindled, died, and fell like a leave does in autumn.
"Are we?" Remus asked.
Lily was holding her breath.
Harry cleared his throat, "Well...not you, but James, Lily, and Sirius...are...."
He didn't have to say the last word.
* * *
"Really, Harry, why did you have to say?" Hermione was asking on the way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, all of them looking quite glum.
"They would've figured it out sooner or later...or we would've told them somehow...or maybe Dumbledore might've said. I'm sure that they would've found out."
"But they didn't need to know now, did they?"Ron asked, sounding depressed, thinking of Sirius's horrified face.
"I'm not sure, but I'd rather them hear it from me than anyone else." Harry muttered.
* * *
Remus wasn't exactly getting by. Soon enough he would loose what little possessions he owned, to be left with nothing, but the shadows. That had happened before. He didn't want it to happen again, but it didn't seem like he could do much about it. No one would hire a werewolf. Secretly he couldn't blame them. If he were in their places, he wouldn't hire a werewolf either.
Of course, the newer, and more secure, laws passed by the Ministry against werewolves weren't helping much. And his place in the Order of the Phoenix almost seemed to make things worse. More and more people knew who (and what) he was every day. He couldn't go to a public place without somebody pointing and saying, "Hey! You're that werewolf, aren't you?"
As Remus walked into his small, shack-like house with a bag of bread and meat (any food was fine with him, these days) he shook such miserable thoughts away. He didn't like to dwell on his depression. It was easier to just ignore it.
The Order had, however, been exciting today. Dumbledore had called a meeting, and Severus had given them all the information that he'd found out in the last month or so. Not much, but still something.
Voldemort was building a fortress.
Of all the information, that was the most important and basic part.
The man was smart, instead of dealing completely in small, nasty, deceiving ways, he set his heart to higher goals, but never to goals that couldn't be achieved.
And yes, immortality could be achieved, given time. That was what Dumbledore thought, him and most of the Order of the Phoenix.
Remus set down his grocery bag on a small table in the kitchen, then lit a fire for tea in the fireplace.
He jumped when he heard Dumbledore's voice coming from the fire.
"Really, Remus, such a dark place. You ought to put some light in here."
He wheeled around to see Dumbledore's head in the heart of his fire, right under the teapot, and hastened to remove the teapot.
"I believe there is something here that might be of interest to you, Remus." Dumbledore said soberly. His tone was the first worrying part of the upcoming conversation.
"What?" Remus said, not thinking about being polite and getting right to the point. He pulled a chair close to the hot fire and sat down.
"You have just arrived at Hogwarts...in..a...smaller..form."
Apart from the fact that it was a rarity to ever hear Dumbledore at loss for words, Remus could make neither head nor tail of this statement.
"What?" Remus repeated in a confused tone.
"You and the rest of the Marauders, Lily Evans, and Severus Snape have just been brought here by a time turner."
Short and sweet.
"They're all dead, Dumbledore." Remus almost felt like laughing! "And no time turner could've brought them HERE, YEARS after Lily and James have died. I mean, sure-"
"You don't believe me, do you, Remus?" Dumbledore said, almost sadly.
Remus paused, then, "No, Dumbledore, I don't."
"Well, then you can come and see them. But tomorrow I'm sending them back."
"Back where?" Remus asked in a moment of anxiety.
"To their own time, Remus. I'll have Harry make a portal...and I suppose it will have to be on the grounds somewhere...and he'll send them back, Harry, I mean."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're their friend, and I'm sure they're asking many questions that Harry can't answer." Dumbledore answered.
"Do you think he's answered the questions that they-" He stopped. "Wait. Dumbledore, how come I can't remember this, if it really happened?"
Dumbledore smiled in the fire, and in result swallowed a mouthful of ash, which he spent a few moments coughing up, and when he'd recovered he said, "I was wondering when you would ask that question, Remus. And in return, let me ask you this question: What do you think memory charms are for?"
* * *
James woke up, not knowing where he was, until he saw Lily lying in a cot close to him. Of course. It all came back to him and his stomach churned when he remembered.
It was still going through his mind, as if the echoes were reverberating over and over again, and had been doing so all night long.
He was dead....
Dead....
Dead.....dead....dead...............
And Harry hadn't even told him how, or when, or-if he was killed-who killed him.
"You're dead...."
Dead.....
James had never even imagined that he would die one day. It had just...never come to his mind....And now he felt the first pang of fear. What would it feel like to be dead? What would it feel like to be dying? Was his death going to be quick, or drawn out? Now that he knew he was going to die, was he going to fight to live? Or just let it happen?
James retched and prepared to flee to the toilet, but the sickness subsided as soon as it had come and he stayed still.
He heard noises coming from outside, and only then did he notice the windows.
Cautiously, he stood up and went to look at what the future had to offer, but it was the same. The same grounds, the same towers and greenhouses...The owls were swooping in and out of the Owlery after a long night of hunting, or into the Great Hall's open windows, delivering letters or packages (thinking of the Great Hall made James remember how hungry he was). The Forbidden Forest was as dreary as ever. The Womping Willow was still standing, tall and ill-cared for (as if anyone would've dared to care for it anyway). Rubeus Hagrid's cabin was still there, the chimney oozing smoke as James wondered if the old gamekeeper still lived there...The Quidditch stadium farther off. James could see the players flying above it, practicing, no doubt. Too bad, it would've been great conditions for a game. The sky was pearly white and the air was still...The lake-
Something flashed in James's mind-
Then Harry walked in, followed by a gray-haired man who looked dimly familiar, Ron, and Hermione.
James turned away from the window as the man's eyes widened.
"James..." He said, looking as if he were about to faint. James wouldn't be surprised if he did faint, he looked so weak. But then, he wasn't quite so old as he had seemed. His hair was gray, and his face was lined, but it looked like he wasn't supposed to be old, maybe something had happened to make him look old.
When James didn't respond, the man stepped forward, looking crestfallen. "Don't you remember me, James?" He said in a sad tone.
"I don't know." James said, bold as ever. "You look familiar..."
Then Remus's voice came in, and James jumped, he hadn't known he was awake-neither had the man, most likely, because he jumped, too. "He's me."
It took a moment for those words to sink in.
"He's who?" James said, disbelieving.
"Me." Remus repeated.
The man nodded, and now James saw some similarities. The same eyes, the same shape of face, the same nose and mouth.
"What's your name, then?" James asked, ignoring Remus's retort of, "He's me! Quit it!"
"Remus Lupin." The man said.
"What do I call you?"
"Moony."
James stared at him. "Why?" He said.
"Because I'm a werewolf." The man said quietly.
If James had known that many more people than a few boys and Remus's immediate family knew Remus was a werewolf, then he wouldn't have broke into a smile, but gone on with questions until there could be some other way for him to be sure. But he didn't, so he said, "Well, you've gotten old, Moony! How's it feel like, being old?"
"Tiring," the man said, smiling slightly. "And I'm sure you're hungry?" So without an answer he pulled out his wand and produced a breakfast of toast and eggs on the closest table, to which James immediately migrated, followed closely by the younger Remus.
"So what should we call you, sir?" James said playfully.
"Just so we can get this strait, I'll go by Remus, and you,"He said pointedly toward his younger self, "We can call Moony. It will be easier that--"
"Wow! Wormtail, wake up and see who's here!" Sirius yelled, arousing Wormtail and jumping over the back of James's couch to go rub Remus's hair. He was soon followed by Wormtail, who looked excited. Lily came over soon, smiling slightly at Remus, her green eyes nearly lost in the blackness of her pupils. And lastly, Snape came up, leaning on the back of James's couch, his eyes on Remus's graying hair with distaste.
Sirius and Wormtail soon settled down and ate some toast cheerfully.
And they talked of small things, like about what was happening now with the Ministry. It was strange to talk, as if this was nothing, as if it was just a normal morning on a normal day, but it was easier than paying attention to the reality of the situation that they were all in. They asked if Voldemort was still around, and Remus said yes, but after that he sort of reared away from that subject. James asked how Quidditch was going, and Harry answered that enthusiastically. Soon the two were engrossed in a conversation about Quidditch, and Ron joined in. Hermione asked what they thought of the future, and Sirius told her what he'd like to see and do, while they were there. Remus said that they would have to leave soon, and Lily said that was too bad. Meanwhile Snape ignored them all and looked out the window.
Just as Wormtail was saying that maybe Remus could conjure up some juice for them, Moony interrupted and asked in a quite, yet extremely noticeable voice, "So, Remus, what happened to Ness?"
"Well, well, well. Weasley Senior." Can you guess who says that? Why of course you can!
CHAPTER TWENTY: REMUS AND MOONY
"I..." Harry said, almost stuttering, "...you....do you...you don't...want to know."
"Why not? Really! It can't be all that bad! It's not like we're dead!" James was laughing, but his laughter didn't last long. Harry wasn't laughing, too, and so James's quieted, dwindled, died, and fell like a leave does in autumn.
"Are we?" Remus asked.
Lily was holding her breath.
Harry cleared his throat, "Well...not you, but James, Lily, and Sirius...are...."
He didn't have to say the last word.
* * *
"Really, Harry, why did you have to say?" Hermione was asking on the way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, all of them looking quite glum.
"They would've figured it out sooner or later...or we would've told them somehow...or maybe Dumbledore might've said. I'm sure that they would've found out."
"But they didn't need to know now, did they?"Ron asked, sounding depressed, thinking of Sirius's horrified face.
"I'm not sure, but I'd rather them hear it from me than anyone else." Harry muttered.
* * *
Remus wasn't exactly getting by. Soon enough he would loose what little possessions he owned, to be left with nothing, but the shadows. That had happened before. He didn't want it to happen again, but it didn't seem like he could do much about it. No one would hire a werewolf. Secretly he couldn't blame them. If he were in their places, he wouldn't hire a werewolf either.
Of course, the newer, and more secure, laws passed by the Ministry against werewolves weren't helping much. And his place in the Order of the Phoenix almost seemed to make things worse. More and more people knew who (and what) he was every day. He couldn't go to a public place without somebody pointing and saying, "Hey! You're that werewolf, aren't you?"
As Remus walked into his small, shack-like house with a bag of bread and meat (any food was fine with him, these days) he shook such miserable thoughts away. He didn't like to dwell on his depression. It was easier to just ignore it.
The Order had, however, been exciting today. Dumbledore had called a meeting, and Severus had given them all the information that he'd found out in the last month or so. Not much, but still something.
Voldemort was building a fortress.
Of all the information, that was the most important and basic part.
The man was smart, instead of dealing completely in small, nasty, deceiving ways, he set his heart to higher goals, but never to goals that couldn't be achieved.
And yes, immortality could be achieved, given time. That was what Dumbledore thought, him and most of the Order of the Phoenix.
Remus set down his grocery bag on a small table in the kitchen, then lit a fire for tea in the fireplace.
He jumped when he heard Dumbledore's voice coming from the fire.
"Really, Remus, such a dark place. You ought to put some light in here."
He wheeled around to see Dumbledore's head in the heart of his fire, right under the teapot, and hastened to remove the teapot.
"I believe there is something here that might be of interest to you, Remus." Dumbledore said soberly. His tone was the first worrying part of the upcoming conversation.
"What?" Remus said, not thinking about being polite and getting right to the point. He pulled a chair close to the hot fire and sat down.
"You have just arrived at Hogwarts...in..a...smaller..form."
Apart from the fact that it was a rarity to ever hear Dumbledore at loss for words, Remus could make neither head nor tail of this statement.
"What?" Remus repeated in a confused tone.
"You and the rest of the Marauders, Lily Evans, and Severus Snape have just been brought here by a time turner."
Short and sweet.
"They're all dead, Dumbledore." Remus almost felt like laughing! "And no time turner could've brought them HERE, YEARS after Lily and James have died. I mean, sure-"
"You don't believe me, do you, Remus?" Dumbledore said, almost sadly.
Remus paused, then, "No, Dumbledore, I don't."
"Well, then you can come and see them. But tomorrow I'm sending them back."
"Back where?" Remus asked in a moment of anxiety.
"To their own time, Remus. I'll have Harry make a portal...and I suppose it will have to be on the grounds somewhere...and he'll send them back, Harry, I mean."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're their friend, and I'm sure they're asking many questions that Harry can't answer." Dumbledore answered.
"Do you think he's answered the questions that they-" He stopped. "Wait. Dumbledore, how come I can't remember this, if it really happened?"
Dumbledore smiled in the fire, and in result swallowed a mouthful of ash, which he spent a few moments coughing up, and when he'd recovered he said, "I was wondering when you would ask that question, Remus. And in return, let me ask you this question: What do you think memory charms are for?"
* * *
James woke up, not knowing where he was, until he saw Lily lying in a cot close to him. Of course. It all came back to him and his stomach churned when he remembered.
It was still going through his mind, as if the echoes were reverberating over and over again, and had been doing so all night long.
He was dead....
Dead....
Dead.....dead....dead...............
And Harry hadn't even told him how, or when, or-if he was killed-who killed him.
"You're dead...."
Dead.....
James had never even imagined that he would die one day. It had just...never come to his mind....And now he felt the first pang of fear. What would it feel like to be dead? What would it feel like to be dying? Was his death going to be quick, or drawn out? Now that he knew he was going to die, was he going to fight to live? Or just let it happen?
James retched and prepared to flee to the toilet, but the sickness subsided as soon as it had come and he stayed still.
He heard noises coming from outside, and only then did he notice the windows.
Cautiously, he stood up and went to look at what the future had to offer, but it was the same. The same grounds, the same towers and greenhouses...The owls were swooping in and out of the Owlery after a long night of hunting, or into the Great Hall's open windows, delivering letters or packages (thinking of the Great Hall made James remember how hungry he was). The Forbidden Forest was as dreary as ever. The Womping Willow was still standing, tall and ill-cared for (as if anyone would've dared to care for it anyway). Rubeus Hagrid's cabin was still there, the chimney oozing smoke as James wondered if the old gamekeeper still lived there...The Quidditch stadium farther off. James could see the players flying above it, practicing, no doubt. Too bad, it would've been great conditions for a game. The sky was pearly white and the air was still...The lake-
Something flashed in James's mind-
Then Harry walked in, followed by a gray-haired man who looked dimly familiar, Ron, and Hermione.
James turned away from the window as the man's eyes widened.
"James..." He said, looking as if he were about to faint. James wouldn't be surprised if he did faint, he looked so weak. But then, he wasn't quite so old as he had seemed. His hair was gray, and his face was lined, but it looked like he wasn't supposed to be old, maybe something had happened to make him look old.
When James didn't respond, the man stepped forward, looking crestfallen. "Don't you remember me, James?" He said in a sad tone.
"I don't know." James said, bold as ever. "You look familiar..."
Then Remus's voice came in, and James jumped, he hadn't known he was awake-neither had the man, most likely, because he jumped, too. "He's me."
It took a moment for those words to sink in.
"He's who?" James said, disbelieving.
"Me." Remus repeated.
The man nodded, and now James saw some similarities. The same eyes, the same shape of face, the same nose and mouth.
"What's your name, then?" James asked, ignoring Remus's retort of, "He's me! Quit it!"
"Remus Lupin." The man said.
"What do I call you?"
"Moony."
James stared at him. "Why?" He said.
"Because I'm a werewolf." The man said quietly.
If James had known that many more people than a few boys and Remus's immediate family knew Remus was a werewolf, then he wouldn't have broke into a smile, but gone on with questions until there could be some other way for him to be sure. But he didn't, so he said, "Well, you've gotten old, Moony! How's it feel like, being old?"
"Tiring," the man said, smiling slightly. "And I'm sure you're hungry?" So without an answer he pulled out his wand and produced a breakfast of toast and eggs on the closest table, to which James immediately migrated, followed closely by the younger Remus.
"So what should we call you, sir?" James said playfully.
"Just so we can get this strait, I'll go by Remus, and you,"He said pointedly toward his younger self, "We can call Moony. It will be easier that--"
"Wow! Wormtail, wake up and see who's here!" Sirius yelled, arousing Wormtail and jumping over the back of James's couch to go rub Remus's hair. He was soon followed by Wormtail, who looked excited. Lily came over soon, smiling slightly at Remus, her green eyes nearly lost in the blackness of her pupils. And lastly, Snape came up, leaning on the back of James's couch, his eyes on Remus's graying hair with distaste.
Sirius and Wormtail soon settled down and ate some toast cheerfully.
And they talked of small things, like about what was happening now with the Ministry. It was strange to talk, as if this was nothing, as if it was just a normal morning on a normal day, but it was easier than paying attention to the reality of the situation that they were all in. They asked if Voldemort was still around, and Remus said yes, but after that he sort of reared away from that subject. James asked how Quidditch was going, and Harry answered that enthusiastically. Soon the two were engrossed in a conversation about Quidditch, and Ron joined in. Hermione asked what they thought of the future, and Sirius told her what he'd like to see and do, while they were there. Remus said that they would have to leave soon, and Lily said that was too bad. Meanwhile Snape ignored them all and looked out the window.
Just as Wormtail was saying that maybe Remus could conjure up some juice for them, Moony interrupted and asked in a quite, yet extremely noticeable voice, "So, Remus, what happened to Ness?"
"Well, well, well. Weasley Senior." Can you guess who says that? Why of course you can!