Oh. My. GOD. There are NO WORDS to describe this. Is it actually true! Has Ara Laothen actually RETURNED FROM THE DEAD! Technically, I was in the land of SATs-Colleges-School (aka HELL) for the past...er...I-don't-wanna-count months. I had to place more important, future issues first before (sob) Fanfics. My heart bled profusely. No wonder I was depressed! And THEN I went to close-up, a government thingy in Washington, DC. Awesome, eye-opening experiences. I cried, I laughed. Oh, yes. And then I went to Tulane University to check it out, and then I went to London...phew. More on that later. But now that we're together again at LAST, my loyal readers, I would like to respond to something that was sent to me several months ago...or was it years? If I sounded anal then, it's probably even worse now.
!READ THIS, THIS IS IMPORTANT TO EVERYONE!
Item one. For those of you who either know or do not know, this story falls under the category of "flashback sequence" (it also will fall under the category of "alternate universe" once we get past the fifth book if I ever decide to put up with this story for that long...not that I have ANYTHING WHATSOEVER against Tonks...grumblegrumble); that means - and if I quote, forgive me - that the story written herein follows along the criteria of a certain character recalling his or her past and telling said past to an audience, removed or otherwise. In common cases, in which an elaborate flashback sequence quite similar to this one is used, not all that the "narrator" tells is revealed, meaning that not EVERY TINY DETAIL that pops into the mind is poured out from the vocal chords, meaning that often memory does not connect with said chords in exquisite detail. Therefore, let's say you are retelling to your, shall we say, grandmother your escapades at a grocery store (stop me if you've heard this one); in the course of your flashback sequence, you recall to yourself that you happened to slip a nice, purple condom (you continue to tell yourself that it was the color that you wanted, not the activity) into your pocket, and the nice lady at the register decided it was none of her business to make you buy said item. Now, then, simply because you recalled that such a thing happened does not immediately entail that you would relate such an event to your mother's mother (unless you decided to be a late-bloomer in the Law-Abiding-Citizen world). You could, in fact, hint at such events (i.e. "We did some interesting things in the Shrieking Shack that night, but there's not much to tell") while secretly showering yourself in the pleasantries of such a memory. Thus, NOT ALL THAT IS STATED/DESCRIBED IN THIS STORY IS RETOLD BY REMUS TO HIS AUDIENCE IN THE MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK FROM CHAPTER ONE. I mean, did you seriously think Remus would be able to tell things so clearly and accurately from, say, Aya's point of view? I think not. I think this is what some would call literary license, or something of that nature. Laugh if I mispronounced that one. Please.
Item two. The length of this story is somewhat uncertain as of right now. Yes, I am aware that we are now officially 32 chapters in, and I have not even allowed the characters to get out of sixth year, let alone out of winter. If you so choose, I can speed things up, but I warn you: after graduation, things will proceed rapidly, since Lily and James die (can someone PLEASE tell me when?). Yes, I may have strayed off from the initial plot-line, but perhaps I have concluded that maybe this story is so bad it has no plot? Again, I take literary license (or is it poetic?). It's a love-story, people. How long do you WANT this to last? If you want me to kill off Aya or anyone, just say so and I'll take it into consideration under my Bad-Things-To-Do box of DOOM. If not, we'll continue on as planned, if I ever find the plan. Rest assured, this story IS going somewhere, in that I want to analyze for myself exactly what went on with the Marauders and Lily after their years at Hogwarts, and maybe take some guesses as to why some characters did what they did (yes, here comes a perfect Peter Pettigrew character study!). Yes, my writing skills (if I ever had any) steadily go downhill, but as long as it's steady, it's a good thing, am I right?
This is not, however, an "I'm-going-to-shoot-anyone-down-for-opinions" here, but, much like Mrs. Rowling decides to respond eloquently to her e-mails, I think I am also entitled to respond. However, YOUR REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED, ALWAYS CONSIDERED, AND ALWAYS TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT. YOU ARE ENTITLED TO YOUR OPINION, AND EVEN THOUGH I MAY NOT AGREE WITH SOME OPINIONS, THEY ARE CONSTRUCTIVE AND THEY DO HELP ME TO WRITE BETTER. I AM NOT DISCOURAGING ANYONE FROM THEIR OPINION AT ALL, AND I ENCOURAGE EVERYONE TO THINK AND EXPRESS THEIR OPINIONS. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND I THANK YOU.
I hope this has cleared up a few things for many of you. If it hasn't, you can save a review and gain more writing-space by personally sending me an e-mail; I tend to respond to e-mails better than reviews (not that you should STOP reviewing, of course), and if you want a more rapid response (e-mail checking for me is such a rarity since I am now frightened due to an onslaught of college e-mails) you can even look me on the Instant Messaging thingy-majig; just look up rxysrfrgirl if you so choose (I've even started up a few cyber pals!...well, only two, but here's one for Texas-Girl and Gaia-Guru!). But please, this is NOT a chance for stalking or shooting me down on the internet; if such a thing happens, I will remove myself from the computer, and we will all be getting a more serious Author's Note than this one (my God, is that possible?) come next chapter. I am always open for your opinions or suggestions, but anything that is invasive or just plain hurtful (unless unintentional) I will refuse to respond to, e-mail, IM, or otherwise. I'm not even out of Senior year, people...be nice! I am not trying to be anal or anything, NOR AM I UPSET IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. I love ff-net to its core, and I love all of you and am very grateful to you for your considerations, your opinions, your writing skills, and your growing fandom of this humble story. I was simply afraid that a few things were a little foggy.
Now, then, THE LONG WITHELD DISCLAIMER! I don't own Harry Potter. Cheers!
Oh, by the by, feel free to flail me for my absence...but college is important (SOME OF YOU WILL FACE ITS HORRORS SOON...MUAHAHAHHAAHAaaa...aaah...that was short-lived).
-A/R-
Ch. 32: Redemption or Revenge?
-A/R-
The hallway seemed eerily quiet, almost poised for something momentous to come. No echo sounded, not even the usual pitter patter of passing feet. All was silent in Hogwarts, the students behind closed doors, oblivious.
Aya sighed quietly to herself.
The Ministry man walking next to her - James Irwin, she remembered - seemed unconcerned with the strange silence, the ominous quiet of the walls themselves. His jaw tight, he walked with a light step. Perhaps he was used to uncomfortable silences with clients.
And Aya had no idea why she was walking next to him down the hallway, although she had a nagging feeling she knew where the future conversation would lead to.
She was half-tempted just to simply turn around and march right back to class, to her friends, to Remus.
But responsibility firmly pushed her along. She had an obligation, after all, and she knew better.
"I'm sure I won't keep you from your studies for very long," Irwin said suddenly, the silence broken for a moment until it wrapped its tendrils about them again.
Aya said nothing, her mind wandering to something she wanted to forget.
He didn't look at her - they were never obligated to - but retained his stern gaze ahead of him as they rounded yet another corner.
"We took all the usual arrangements," Irwin continued. "But it all happened so suddenly we had to act immediately. I hope you understand, of course."
Aya nodded, but said nothing.
As the two unlikely companions reached the phoenix statue, Aya's stomach lurched. To have Dumbledore present...
She bit her lip. Something terrifyingly important had happened, and all clues pointed directly to what she feared.
"Right up this way, Miss Centaria," Irwin gestured after using the password, speaking over the soft grinding sound of the rising staircase. "Headmaster knows we're coming."
She nodded dumbly and followed him upwards, each step a little heavier for her than the last. For all she could help, she was tired.
If only she could just turn around and run away as fast as she could.
-A/R-
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk as they came in, his eyes wandering over a rather long roll of parchment. When he looked up, his eyes sparkled behind his friendly, half-moon glasses.
"Ah, Mr. Irwin," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said with a solemn smile. "I see you were able to bring Miss Centaria effectively from her class. I'm quite happy Professor McGonagall was so understanding."
Irwin nodded. "Professor Dumbledore," he regarded.
Aya stood awkwardly to one side of the room, desperately looking for shadows to hide in. Unfortunately, there were rarely any shadows in Dumbledore's most splendid office, and the fire didn't help in the least. With a silent sigh, she clasped her hands behind her and gazed wearily at the floor, wishing against all hopes she was dreaming.
"Please, sit down," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chairs by the fireplace. Irwin readily agreed, and Aya, reluctantly, slowly made her way opposite to him, her back to Dumbledore's desk as she sat down quietly. The old man pulled up his own chair and sat down gracefully.
"As I told Miss Centaria, this won't take long, I hope, sir," Irwin said. The Headmaster nodded. Drumming his fingers on his knees, Irwin turned to Aya. "Miss Centaria, I'm not sure if you're aware of the capture of one Mr. Edgar Sarkus?" Aya shook her head. Frowning a little, Irwin continued: "Sarkus is, or, more accurately, was a murderer that the Ministry has been desperate to capture for some time now."
For a brief moment, Aya had the sudden urge to scream out "And what the hell does this have to do with me!", but she merely bit her lip and kept quiet, trying to understand where all this was going.
"Sarkus' trial is scheduled for next month - this coming February - and is, of course, a murder trial," Irwin said.
Aya was suddenly aware that Dumbledore was watching her intently; she refused to remove her eyes from a spot on the carpet just to the left of Irwin's armchair.
"We have Sarkus under close surveillance, of course, given his-"
"What does this have to do with me?"
The statement escaped her lips so quickly even Aya was startled. She blushed, but decided she would keep her composure as best she could; she wanted to leave, wanted to go back to class, to life.
Irwin seemed almost annoyed. "Miss Centaria, aren't you aware of just who Sarkus is?"
She looked up at him. "You said he was a murderer on the run...for a crime he committed-"
"Thirteen years ago this March," Irwin cut her off.
It took a moment for this to settle into her comprehension. She looked up at him and saw the gravity in his eyes. Suddenly the armchair she sat in became not a comfort, but a confining claw.
Irwin reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a rolled parchment of paper and, in a formal voice, read, " 'Edgar Sarkus, a known werewolf and former fugitive, is hereby charged with the murder of at least two members of the Centaria family, as well as possible infection of a four year-old.' " Once completed, Irwin rolled the parchment and replaced it in his robe.
Aya gripped the armchair.
Drumming his fingers again, Irwin said, "Sarkus, if convicted, can face anywhere from twenty years to life in Azkaban, or the Kiss if convicted of all three counts."
"Why are you telling me this?" Aya whispered.
"Standard Ministry procedure for witnesses," Irwin replied.
"Witness?" she asked quietly.
"You're a witness, even if you were only four," Irwin answered. "You need to testify."
"I what?" Aya gasped. "How do they expect me to remember…to say that kind of stuff?"
"There's not much we have right now to go on," Irwin said with a shrug. "You are our only hope on this…our only link to Sarkus and his crime, if any exist."
"Will I...see him?"
"Sarkus?" Irwin asked. She nodded. "You have to meet with him."
"I...what?"
"Standard procedure."
It was getting harder to breathe. She felt as if a cold, unforgiving hand had gripped her heart and was now compressing her lungs. Aya shivered despite the warm fire not three feet from her.
"You can, given the circumstances, even acquit him if you so chose," Irwin replied, but shrugged, then stood. "I'm sure you'd rather just let him have his Kiss and be done with him. I know I would if some bastard helped kill my family off." He shrugged again. "That's all I'm supposed to relate to you, Miss Centaria. You are to come to the Ministry on February 15th. Dumbledore, as your legal guardian now, is to also accompany you." He turned to Dumbledore. "Just ask for me, sir, when you arrive there. We'll set up the meeting soon after. I'm sure school won't be a problem?"
"She's one of our top students," Dumbledore replied, but he was still looking at Aya.
"Of course," Irwin replied. "Professor Dumbledore, always a pleasure. Miss Centaria, I'll be seeing you soon."
Aya was barely aware of him leaving the room.
"They always seem so formal," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "I'd love to say you don't have to do this, Miss Aya...but I'm afraid we can't fight the Ministry."
"I don't want to meet with him, sir," Aya whispered.
Dumbledore sighed as he stood and turned to the window. "I wish you didn't have to, my dear, I truly do. But I'm afraid you may be the one who can save or condemn Mr. Sarkus."
-A/R-
She knew she should've gone back to class - she was sure she had barely missed thirty minutes of it - but after finding that she had long passed the door and had instead wandered to the common room, she decided she didn't want to see anyone. At least for a while.
In the silence of the common room, she stared into the bitterly cheerful fire and listened to the wind against the windows.
I don't want to meet with him. Please don't make me do this.
She shivered.
-A/R-
"You didn't come back to class."
She neither flinched nor removed her eyes from the crackling fire in front of her. Despite its warmth, she felt as cold as if she had just stepped outside into the falling snow. "I didn't see the need to," she told the fire quietly. Don't be morose, a voice whispered in the back of her mind; she would have acknowledged it had she not felt so frightened at the moment. Perhaps it was because she was still exhausted and cold. None of it, of course, would ever be because of what had transpired in Dumbledore's office. Such a thing was simply a natural part of her rather unnatural life; she would live with the knowledge as she saw fit and would step beyond the self-pity and depression. All else was trivial, besides. Like emerging sunlight from behind a dark cloud, she would step out into the wide world with her usual smile and show that wide world just how strong she could be at present.
At least, that's what she wanted to say.
And if only she could believe her own words. They never tasted great, and hurt when she swallowed them whole.
"What did that guy want, that Ministry guy? He seemed as if he had all sorts of important business matters to fill up his arse."
Aya forced a giggle from her throat, a strange taste of lies and deceit formulating in her rather dry mouth. Does everyone feel lust and despair at the same time? A thousand emotions, a thousand questions, and a thousand more of blank, empty spaces filled her already cluttered mind as if pixies had been unceremoniously removed from a constricting cage. She could feel them flitter about in her skull as if in tune with her stomach. Was it hunger she felt, or sickness? Or both? She couldn't decide. Logic told her she hadn't eaten since before yesterday, but she felt like shying away from logic and reason and facts. They all seemed so cold and emotionless. For a strange moment, she questioned her own beliefs. Was turning atheist so soon such a good idea? she wondered. She would have laughed at her momentary stupidity.
"Well?" he asked with a little more impatience than he wanted. Perhaps he shouldn't stand with his arms crossed and his foot tapping the floor. But, then, why wouldn't she look at him as always? Her voice had carried a rare uncertainty he had only heard once.
She stood, straightening her robe and, unconsciously, fixing her pulled-back black hair; stray strands fell forward from her gliding fingers and against her cheeks once more, but she hardly seemed to notice. Remus braced himself for her usual response, her usual avoidance of anyone's concerned prodding.
"There's to be a trial," she said firmly, glancing about slightly at the deserted common room. "I think it'll be sometime soon. I've been told to go to the Ministry on the fifteenth of February to meet the man who may have murdered my family, or bitten me, or both. If you want greater detail, you can talk with Professor Dumbledore. He didn't arrange it, but I'm sure they spoke with him first before they sent Irwin to talk to me. I'm sure I'll be dragged to the trial itself as well." For a brief moment, she wondered why she spoke so clearly and confidently about the dead. Could she ever speak the names of the dead?
Remus blinked, shocked at her frankness and staggered by the onslaught. He had suspected something along these lines, but a meeting, and a trial?
"You expected me to lie to you, didn't you," she said quietly, looking into his eyes with such strange confidence he could never look away. Her face was paler than before, but her eyes seemed to glow strangely.
He wanted to speak in the negative, but couldn't stop his head from nodding. The whole exchange seemed bizarre and foreign to him, as if this was another Aya he spoke to instead of the one he had shared himself with last night. Her entire demeanor seemed set, almost frighteningly uncaring of the world passing around them. "Are you scared...or anything?" he said with a hint of dumbness unwillingly thrown into the mix.
She shrugged. "I'm not too sure yet," she said distractedly, finally looking him fully in the face. Humiliatingly, she felt herself jolt, a heavy throb in her veins that spiraled downward to between her legs as she stared at Remus just a few feet from her. Perhaps only she could feel lust and despair at the same time? It was horrendous to consider. But then again, wasn't she just as horrendous?
"Hey…" he whispered, taking a comforting step forward. She barely registered his movements before she felt his arms tight about her, his firm chin resting on her head, her nose buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent, his steadfast composure, his willingness to survive. Her arms hung limply at her side for a brief moment before they, too, clasped around him to hold his entire being as close to her as possible. There was something harboring near to her psyche, an unwanted step to breaching her darkest secrets, her strongest emotional walls, and the memories that haunted every step she took, every breath she dared to inhale. She could feel it boiling about inside of her, pounding in her veins, her head, her thighs, her heart. It had been more than a decade, hadn't it? More than enough time to heal, right? So what if she had had a bloody time in her childhood? She should have been over this by now!
But then why did her eyes burn so? Why did her throat constrict, her heart entwine in pain, and her entire body begin to sag forward into him? Was it need? Was it sorrow? Was it exhaustion?
I haven't slept, she found herself thinking as her body answered her morbid thoughts. Just as Remus began to pull away, she collapsed forward, rushing to meet his arms and the floor at the same time. But the floor opened up in front of her, swallowing her whole, pressing its darkness against her soul and mind and heart in a frighteningly comforting way. And as Remus yelled out in surprise, Aya closed her eyes to meet that consoling darkness.
Dear God, I haven't slept in days.
-A/R-
She walked this time. Or had Time slowed down? She wasn't sure, but the one thing she understood was that she walked this time. And that was consoling. Never mind the pressing matter behind her, never mind the screaming infant in her arms. She was walking, and that was certainly something.
The howls were growing closer and closer, but she maintained the same speed, albeit a fast-paced one. And that was always something.
Now she just needed something to trip on…
-A/R-
For the past month, Remus was certain that he wanted to understand one of the most important things he had come to know about Aya. It was so simple, this thing that he wanted, but the act itself was beyond comprehension; it was as complex as Aya was.
Yet as he watched her sleep in his bed, he disagreed with himself.
He needed to know. It wasn't curiosity that fueled him, although it had, he mused guiltily, the first time he knew she was a werewolf. That had all changed at once.
So as he waited for his friends to come back from lunch so Lily could possibly help him get Aya upstairs, Remus Lupin considered confronting Aya. He already knew she would resist him to the fullest - he had already seen her rather fiery temper - in all forms, but he was determined to have it out of her, through force if necessary. Something that horrific couldn't nestle itself in a little girl's psyche, only to follow her footsteps as she grew up. She had refused him on several occasions, but her collapse in the common room told him that Aya's greatest secret was eating her alive from the inside.
He couldn't have her go in February without revealing it to someone she could trust. That would turn out horribly, he knew. And the last thing he wanted was for Aya to go alone, even if she was probably going with Dumbledore. He needed to be there, even if he had to use James' Invisibility Cloak to get there.
No matter what, he was determined to see this thing through with her. Even if he had to go through hell and back just to do it.
-A/R-
Sorry it's such a short update, but I felt that so much happens in this chapter that there needed to be a break. And so, here it is…even though I've been gone FOREVER. I was going to put another sex scene in here, but I wasn't sure that that was appropriate. There might be one next chapter, but I'm not totally sure. In the meantime, stay cool, read your updates, and always, always, review the Laothen…er…yeah.