Lupin's Christmas Carol
Shamelessly ripped off from Dickens' fine work, with the help of characters from Joanne Rowling's equally admirable writings.
This story takes place on the Christmas Eve during the Deathly Hallows book (1997) and endeavours to be canon-compliant. The idea for this story has been sitting in my back pocket for a few years now, and I'm finally in a mood to get it written. I'm sorry I haven't made my deadline of Christmas Day! One chapter to go, which I hope to have very soon. So please send all your encouraging and motivating messages in the comments or by PMing me. Comments and follows are life.
THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS
Remus did not let himself fall asleep. He sat, nerves thrumming, in the fireside armchair.
Let it be over, he thought. But the quietness stretched on, denying him any closure.
Finally, Remus thought he noticed a lightening of the space… or was it a darkening? In front of him, slowly but steadily, a ghostly figure in a dark cloak formed. He couldn't tell if it was young or old and made no noise whatsoever.
"You are the Ghost who will show me the future?" he asked.
The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.
"I have never wanted to know what lies ahead for me, but I'm ready for this to be over. Take me where you need to, spirit."
The figure turned and began to lead him through the darkness that had suddenly closed in on them. He could somehow make out the robes without light needed.
And then they were suddenly outside a house. It was that of Andromeda and Ted Tonks. The hooded figure stopped outside the window and gestured for Remus to look through it.
He saw Nymphadora's mother, still as elegant and distinguished as he knew her to be, sitting in a rocking chair in front of a blazing wood fire and cradling a baby that looked almost a year old. The baby had nestled its shock of bubblegum pink hair into his grandmother's neck and was fast asleep.
"Merry Christmas, my little Teddy," she smiled.
"Teddy…" Remus whispered reverently. "My son."
The hooded figure turned to lead Remus on, but Remus wasn't ready to go.
"Wait! Can't we stay longer? Where is Tonks? Where am I?"
The figure didn't respond. It simply kept walking away.
They walked until they were suddenly at the Burrow. The hooded figure walked through the front door and its usual bell-laden wreath. Remus followed, worry lessened. Of course they would go to the Burrow, he thought. He found himself smiling when they emerged in the kitchen to find Fleur and Molly discussing the best way to finish the Christmas Pudding.
"Just a small spreeg of 'olly. Zat is all you need," Fleur said.
"Holly on a pudding? That's… very pretty, Fleur dear, but…" The conversation was overtaken with the noise coming from the den. The spirit led Remus on.
"Give it back, Ron!" Ginny was laughing while trying to pull a wrapped present from her much taller brother, who was holding it over her head.
"Ron, stop being a prat!" Hermione said, giving him a look of admonishment… and was that affection? Percy came by and snatched the gift out of his brother's high perch, and handed it to Ginny. Remus was overjoyed to see the happiness in everyone's eyes. He heard a familiar laugh, then turned.
Harry was sitting on the chesterfield, his eyes overflowing with merriment. He watched the scene in front of him with a contented expression, as though he were the happiest person alive. Remus couldn't remember seeing him so carefree, and it warmed his heart.
"Harry's alive," he blurted out. The hooded spirit didn't answer, but Remus found himself unbothered by its silence.
"Give me a hand with this, won't you Bill?"
Arthur was lugging a rather large box towards the tree. Bill rushed over to help him with it.
"Where's Charlie? Isn't this his gift?"
Arthur's face went solemn for a moment. "He went to London to talk to George. He said not to wait for him."
The solemnity was mirrored back in Bill's face as he nodded. "I hope he's able to get through to him. If George didn't still have the business to keep him occupied, I'd be seriously worried."
Remus frowned. What had happened to George? And where was Fred?
The uncomfortable prickle of suspicion began to grow. Something's happened to Fred.
In confirmation of his worst fears, he heard Ron whisper to Hermione.
"When I saw him yesterday, he told me he wanted to be alone today. I can't blame him, this place is madness."
"I can't imagine the feeling of being homesick at home. Of course he wanted to be alone. All he'd see here was memories of Fred."
A hand fell heavily on Remus's shoulder. It was the hooded figure, beckoning him to leave.
"Fred is dead, isn't he?" Silence was the response. This time, Remus felt ill. The hand clenched again on his shoulder. Remus got up to follow him, but turned back to see Harry one last time.
The boy - the man, he should say - was still on the chesterfield. Ginny had curled up beside him. They were surrounded by such a moment of happiness, young love, and family, Remus found he couldn't have imagined a better future.
When he turned back to look for the spirit, the world around him had changed once again.
They stood in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Massive boughs and wreaths of cedar festooned the walls, and in the front corner was the largest tree Remus had ever seen. The diners were seated at the head table, due to their low numbers. But there was Hagrid and Filius and Minerva and Sybill, all familiar faces to the former professor. Remus found himself wishing he'd been able to spend Christmas with them when he had been teaching, but it had been a change night. There were a few students around the table, but only a few. Remus didn't recognize any of them.
Minerva was seated at the head of the table, which Remus took to mean she was currently the Headmistress. She stood, her full goblet in hand. "Peers and pupils," she began, looking at each diner in turn. "I am honoured and humbled to be sharing this Christmas dinner with you all. It has been a year of rebuilding what has been destroyed, and grieving of what and whom we have lost. But Voldemort has fallen, and Hogwarts still stands. This institution will continue to be a home to any wizard who wishes to learn. Here's to justice, and a new year of blessed peace. I wish you all a Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," chorused the others.
Remus looked closer at the room they were in. If he were not mistaken, there were signs of new stone and of repair. He had noticed that Severus did not sit at the table, and it made him wonder about what part of the war had reached the school. But repairs or no, it seemed filled with the same mirth and good tidings that he remembered from his own Hogwarts years. There was an unbelievable comfort in that, as unsettled as he was.
He somehow felt the gaze of the hooded spirit and turned to look. The figure was staring at him, unseeing and unsaying.
"What now, spirit?" he asked. "Why are you showing me these things? I never asked to see the future."
The figure turned and walked towards the Entrance Hall. Remus followed him. He was expecting their surroundings to fade away as they had before, but everything remained clear and real.
In the empty vestibule, the spirit stopped in front of a wall. As Remus joined him he saw the large basalt plaque mounted there. Without thought, he began to read aloud.
"In memory of those who lost their lives at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998. May we never forget their bravery or their sacrifice." His voice cracked before he could finish.
He'd never wanted to see his future, never wanted to know the unknowable. But as his eyes fell down the list of too many witches and wizards, he saw names that tore at his heart. Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey.
And then his own, and his wife's. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks.
"It was the battle that ended the war," a voice echoed behind him. Remus spun around.
The figure had lowered its hood, showing a young man with sandy blond hair.
"I don't know you, do I?" Remus asked.
"We haven't met yet," the boy confirmed. "But we will."
"Is this future certain? Is it the same that will come to pass?" Remus questioned.
"No future is certain. But it's as likely an outcome as any."
Remus looked back at the list of names, of the carved stone that spelled out his fate.
"Are you afraid of dying?" the young man asked.
"No, not really. Not for myself. But I fear not being able to protect those I love." He touched his hand to Nymphadora's name.
"The war is over. Voldemort is dead. Harry Potter lives. And your son lives. Isn't that protecting them, protecting their future?"
"I couldn't save Nymphadora."
"From what I know about her, she would probably feel the exact same way about protecting you. What if you had died and she had lived? How would she feel then?"
"She'd be furious with me," Remus said immediately. "But she'd be alive, to have a life with our son."
"Your son is in good hands. He has a family that loves him and takes care of him. And it'll take him a little bit of time to fully understand it, but he'll learn how to accept that both his parents died protecting him. And others."
Remus couldn't say anything. He found that his eyes were full and about to overflow. He hadn't wanted any of this. He never asked for some pilgrimage through the past, or this glimpse of a future not-yet-come. He found that all he wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be beside Nymphadora so they could stare down their futures together.
"I think it's time I took you back," the young spirit said.
They walked through the front doors of the castle to find themselves back in the den at Grimmauld Place. Through the windows, it looked like a gloomy dawn was threatening to break.
The spirit turned again to face Remus, his hair now white. Odd,Remus thought, I thought his hair was darker.
"It's nearly time for me to go," he said. "And I have so many questions I want to ask… but I'm not allowed." The young man smirked in a way that looked vaguely familiar to Remus.
"What questions?"
The figure ignored him. "I'm only here to show you a future that might be. It's up to you whether it comes to pass or not. But you should know that your son thinks the world of you. He has heard so many stories."
"What…"
"We'll meet soon enough," the spirit said as it began to fade. And looking just like his mischievous mother, the boy snapped his fingers and his hair turned to turquoise.
"Teddy?!" Remus gasped, but the boy was gone.