Falling Leaves
Disclaimer:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
November 24, 1994
"Here," Remus said with a wince. He pushed two cold mugs across the table, his body bemoaning both the effort and the scratching sound of ceramic sliding over wood. The sun had yet to rise – it, too, protested the ungodly hour, remaining shrouded below the horizon and, in so doing, further stalling the world's awakening.
In the blue, cold hour that preceded it, their combined wands served as pinpricks of light, three Lumos spells casting a harsh white hue that threw the haggardness on their faces into stark relief even as it pitched tall shadows everywhere else. There was much to do still—the three of them had a long way to go and lots of ground to cover—not that Remus would've been able to get any sleep otherwise. His stomach had churned through most of the night, and he'd exhausted himself fighting too stifling sheets—proper rest dangled just outside his reach by the whispers of his anxiety. It murmured like a cruel lover in his ear, telling him of each variable he had failed to take into account, every single way things could go to shit.
At first, as the day of the First Task grew closer, Remus wasn't even certain whether he'd join his friends as a spectator. With more time to deliberate on it, distanced from the exhilaration of concocting such a perfectly mad plan, it dawned on him what a blatant violation of Hermione's privacy it would be, watching her from afar for however long the task would last. On the other hand, sending Lily and James alone sounded like a Very Bad Idea—were the two to get caught up in the moment of watching Harry and forget themselves… Well, the consequences of such a turn of events could be catastrophic, and they required someone to monitor them to hopefully either avoid it altogether or at least mitigate the situation.
Remus had dwelled extensively on that through the night as he pondered his choice—drawn further into the web of his misgivings, his sharp mind had conjured up a dozen different scenarios, varying from the smallest mishap to the very public, very unwelcome reveal of their identities, resulting, therefore, in a thorough, unmendable tear in the fabric of time.
Most of those imaginings, though, were just that—unlikely to ever come to fruition. The odds of getting caught due to a potion malfunction, while possible, were quite low. But the part of Remus that was sadistic and masochistic alike thrived on the self-torture, gleefully coming up with terrifying little horror tales to keep him up at night.
The wide-awake wait was probably the worst of it. It turned out that those hours that existed after midnight but before dawn resembled too closely his own in-between life, for, during both, time stretched endlessly, ill-defined and warped until it rushed in a crystal clear whirlwind once more.
Soon, the whirlwind would engulf him, and Remus dragged a hand down his face in a futile and pitiful attempt to dispel the remainders of his sluggishness to prepare himself for it. Other than to finally be done with correcting the past, there was nothing he yearned for more at present than a hot, strong, sweet-smelling cuppa to stir his still-dormant senses. Neither option, however, was in the cards for the day, for unlike tea, the liquid inside their mugs came not from a kettle of boiling water, but rather from a large dark vial he'd unstoppered and distributed evenly between James, Lily, and himself. Even the concoction's sound grated in the muffled silence of early morning—while water would have fallen from the kettle with a pleasantly soft trickling, the Polyjuice Potion poured out splattering and splotching, thick, viscous, and with the occasional poorly dissolved clump struggling its way out the vial's neck. It reeked of eggs left to rot under the sun, the stench an attack to his sensitive nose.
Not, he supposed, the most auspicious beginning for a day.
Yet Remus carried on, carefully sorting through the final, most important ingredient: three separate locks of hair, glinting under the wand light. The little Sirius that sometimes perched on his shoulder—usually when Remus was either sloshed out of his mind or too tired for common sense—egged him to mix them up. But as entertaining as the image of James trapped in a woman's body was to his muddled Marauder brain, Remus stayed his hand. The entire plan was precarious enough without adding an extra layer of foolhardiness to it.
Moreover, Lily would not be amused, and rightfully so.
It was an instantly sobering thought, how precious and singular this opportunity was for his friends. He still recalled Harry's wistfulness whenever his parents were brought up, his sharing of his most precious memory, strong enough to keep an army of hungry Dementors at bay. Remus had also borne witness to the havoc being torn from their son had wreaked on the Potters—for weeks on end, Lily had been listless, her fire dulled and dead as she was confined to a house away from her infant son. For his part, James had furiously tried to fix a situation broken beyond immediate repair, his rage entirely justified yet with only Remus and Dumbledore as targets.
"It's not Remus' fault, James," Lily had said on one such occasion, her first words in weeks. Her voice was hoarse from disuse and had cracked slightly.
James rushed to her side, conjuring a glass of water, buoyed by her reaction. "We could leave, love. We could take Harry—"
She accepted the water, looking over its clear surface, but not taking a sip. Instead, she tapped her fingernails against the glass, watching the resulting ripples intently. "And potentially drive his best friend to madness in the process, risking her life and countless others?" Her eyes cut to her husband, her stare level. "A friend not only to Harry, but who endangered herself for Remus and for people she had never met. Could you, truly?"
Her words, or perhaps her expectant scrutiny, silenced James. He often had to be talked out of his rashness, but there was a deeper undercurrent at play here, a strain that weighed down the very air around them and had coloured their every thought and action for the past month. When James spoke again, his tone was low but with a hint of steel, "We're not Peter."
A sad smile crossed Lily's face—she was a far better person than Remus, since all he could taste was bitterness, and all he desired was to spill rat's blood. "No, we're not."
Then, in her unparalleled kindness, Lily turned to Remus. "We'll survive this. However much I hate it, being apart from Harry and letting Tunia raise him, the alternative was not being here at all." She returned the glass to her husband untouched, rose from the chaise that had swallowed her silent tears, and stepped towards Remus. Soft but almost brittle hands cupped his cheeks, gently pulling his face down until their gazes locked. "You are a good friend, Remus Lupin. The very, very best. This, here—" she said through dry, chapped lips, looking around at the house he feared he had made her prison. "It's a chance. Harry will need me someday, will need us, and we're alive this time around. It falls to us, then, to hold ourselves together until that time comes."
The weight on his chest didn't lift—he feared it never would—but shared, it became bearable enough for him to breathe.
"She's right," James said after a moment, and Lily let go of Remus' face, turning back to her husband. Reluctantly, Remus did the same. Righteous anger had drained from his friend's features until only a weary sort of miserableness remained. "I'm sorry, Remus."
It was almost worse, being apologised to. He rather preferred the yelling.
"So am I, James," Remus said around the lump in his throat, his eyes burning with unshed tears, waiting their turn to fall. "So am I."
The remembrance cut through the haze of sleep deprivation and its absurd musings, and Remus sat up straighter, carefully sifting the different strands. He owed it to them to do this right.
Determination renewed, Remus strewed his respective lock over his share of the potion, swirled his non-descript mug thrice, and raised it. "Bottom's up."
Before the rim reached his lips, though, Lily's quiet voice floated through the silence.
"Are we truly doing this?"
However softly issued the inquiry, it still stopped Remus in his tracks, mug mid-air. He looked up at her, but her frowning gaze was turned downwards, trained intently on the non-tea as though it would grant her any answers. But if Divination would ever deign to reveal any future knowledge, he'd rather it had warned them of Pettigrew's betrayal a long time ago.
This, what they were doing, was as far from a mystery as possible. It relied solely upon their will.
Sat at opposite sides of the kitchen table, Remus took a moment to examine his friend. The shadows had begun to morph around her, the beginnings of daylight filtering in, though not yet bathing them in orange. Under their greyish gleam, there was a jittery quality to Lily. She had yet to add the final ingredient to her potion—borrowed from an unsuspecting muggle woman with no cause to ever be anywhere near Hogwarts—her lit wand abandoned on the table beside it, shoulders curled in as she massaged her fingers over her chest.
Like a domino effect, her hesitancy reignited his anxiety, making Remus rethink the entire ruse. To all intents and purposes, it was madness to even contemplate risking over a decade of carefully laid plans over a measly glimpse at their loved ones.
But the idea was born from a desperate craving for a reminder, for even just a glimmer of the underpinning reason for their every action thus far. Lily and James had accepted a half-life, apart from their son, to ensure Harry's survival. Remus had done something similar, though for different kinds of love. But no matter his selfish want to see Hermione and provide James and Lily something extraordinary, there was no place for doubts in this–Remus would not be the one to inflict any more suffering on his friends, not ever again.
Lowering his mug, he gripped the edge of the kitchen table and rose, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. "If you're not sure—"
"No," she said quickly, grabbing his hand over the table and holding him in place. Her palm felt clammy, fingers gelid against his much warmer skin. Lily swallowed and repeated, "No, I—I'm sure."
Remus allowed himself to slowly fall back onto his seat, scanning her face. Loosening his grip on the wooden table, he turned his hand and gave hers a comforting squeeze. "Because it's alright if you're not. If you're scared or uncertain…"
What started as a nod turned to a shake of her head, her eyes not meeting his. He wasn't sure whom she was trying to convince—him or herself. Perhaps a bit of both, though it was doubtful it hit either mark. When Lily retracted her hand, James captured it, intertwining their fingers and turning to face her. A silent conversation ensued, and Remus gave the couple what little privacy he could, staring at his now congealed drink instead. When James cleared his throat a moment later, Remus looked back up. Whatever glances they shared had lit a determined spark in Lily's green eyes, her voice louder and clearer when she added, "We're sure."
The matter apparently settled, James used his free hand to raise his drink and sniffed, a slight moue of distaste marring his friend's face before he shrugged, the smile he'd been sporting since he cottoned on to Remus' plan returning. If he knew Prongs well, that smile was one part nostalgic mischievousness and two parts excitement at finally getting to see his son. Tilting his Oh Deer mug forward, James cheered, "To your health, Moony."
Remus just huffed, contemplating his miserable dose. At sun break, it looked even more abysmal. In the dark, it had been near impossible to distinguish colour. Now, though… He wasn't quite sure whether it was the lacewing flies or the boomslang skin that gave the brew such a lovely mossy colour, but, as he swallowed it with a wince, he knew that the swampy aftertaste must come from the leeches. It was only practice that allowed him to keep it down. "Yes, yes." He swallowed hard, hoping that by getting rid of his saliva he'd also rid himself of the taste—the result was negligible. "Me and the never-ending foul-tasting potions—we've a very long affair."
In between pushing down his nausea, Remus caught sight of Lily downing her potion. Unlike he and James, she kept a neutral face—the extent of her fortitude a marvellous thing to behold. Over years of hearing daring tales and boastful achievements, Remus had learned to take note of unassuming yet undoubtedly brave actions—it spoke volumes that they often came from the women in his life. Perhaps they all stood to learn something about quiet courage.
"Is Crouch Jr. seriously drinking this around the clock?" James asked, a grimace ever-present. "We'll have to toast Harry's victory with some Ogdens later to wash it out."
Lily didn't bother to suppress her roll of eyes, a long-suffering sigh pushing past her lips. When her gaze found Remus, though, her countenance turned sombre.
"I can't tell you how much this means to me," she repeated before their transformation began. The day Remus had laid out his plan, Lily had promptly burst into tears, the high-strung energy she'd been feeding the room finding a different release than inadvertent destruction. James had supported her weight as he helped her into a seat, but a spark of hope had taken residence in his eyes, even if mixed with disbelief. The latter had yet to vanish fully even as the former turned into excitement, and Remus suspected it'd be the case until they were stood before Harry.
Remus' response to Lily's words was delayed. The change came quite suddenly, the potion's effect starting as a painless, funny feeling in his stomach that spread to his limbs haphazardly—an ear here, a foot there… Although Remus was used to transformations on account of his lycanthropy, it was a queer thing, growing and wearing another person's skin. At least none of his bones snapped this time—though, having been tall since his teenage years, he had gotten accustomed to it, so when his shoulders, torso, and legs began to shrink, he found the body rather confining, not unlike a too-tight piece of clothing, fit to burst. Worst of all, it itched.
He supposed he could relate better to Sirius and his fleas now.
"Good thing you don't have to tell me," he finally responded—not to Lily anymore but to a veritable stranger. Her distinctive auburn hair was leached of all colour and drained of its shine until it turned a rather ratty straw yellow, limp and shrunken to shoulder-length, her wan skin further washed out and her eyebrows so pale they nearly disappeared even as they framed nut brown eyes. "I can well imagine it."
James sat at her side, still holding her hand, though with different, stubbier fingers. The most striking thing about his new look had to be his hair. No longer an unruly mop of black curls, it remained just as dark, only now in a tame short quiff. The hints of a beard almost concealed a bow-shaped thin mouth. From his seated position, he looked roughly the same height as Remus. James endured his perusal in good humour. "Do you think Hermione'll be there, too?"
Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Even uncomfortable and swaddled in too-large clothes, he found himself warmed by the reminder.
"Wild hippogriffs couldn't keep her away. It wouldn't surprise me if she decided to face the dragon herself or give a piece of her mind to the organisers. I'd even expect both. It's mystifying, truly, how Hermione maintains a perfect balance of keeping Harry grounded and supporting him in his endeavours—she utterly hates flying and Quidditch and yet there wasn't a game she wasn't there for him." Remus replied, the distant memory of her telling him she'd once set fire to a teacher's robes—who he now knew to be Severus—to protect Harry popping unbidden into his mind. The vision was almost enough to make him smile. "I'm just unsure whether we'll be able to find her amongst the crowd of on-lookers."
It was rather irksome, to see strangers feel sorry for him. Though it was harder to read the expressions on their changed faces, he could still gauge that the glance not-Lily shot not-James was both unconvinced and a bit pitying. When both their gazes turned to Remus, they held a sceptical note, which Remus chose to ignore, rising to his feet and busying himself with the tailoring of his own clothes. It was a lie, he knew, to even suggest he wouldn't scan the stands until he knew precisely where Hermione was… Doing anything less was inconceivable. And even if he couldn't locate her on sight alone, her scent was unmistakable. Though just as he planned to ignore the inevitable emotional turmoil his best friends would experience when seeing Harry in person for the first time in years, he would appreciate the courtesy of being allowed to pretend he wasn't a love-sick, pathetic fool.
He was, after all, quite aware of his status as such and had no need for the reminder.
Remus extinguished the light spell and took a long last look at his friends. Chosen precisely for their commonality, no single feature of the persons they wore stood out, their faces rather plain. Neither beauty nor ugliness was beneficial for inconspicuity's sake—though Remus doubted anyone would be watching anything other than the Triwizard champions, it was preferable not to give people cause to look twice.
"Did Dumbledore approve of this?" Lily wondered. She hadn't cared much for Dumbledore's opinions since he chose to keep Harry in the competition, but Remus knew her conscience was bound to make an appearance sooner or later.
Remus shook his head. "I haven't asked for his permission, nor do I intend to."
"You know, we can always apologise later," James said. "Or better yet, never. Anyway, I believe we have a castle to sneak into—unless, of course, someone objects?"
A/N: First chapter of the year, yay! Happy 2025, everyone!
I promise I meant to write the whole First Task as a single chapter, but I felt this was a much-needed set-up and together they ended up being too overwhelming for my brain. Not sure if I ever mentioned it, but editing a long chapter is a bit of a nightmare for me: I can't edit scenes individually, so whenever I try to edit a chapter I start from the very top. Ever noticed how the start of my chapters usually feels more polished than the rest? Well, that's because I tinker with it obsessively and can't move on to the other parts - oops!
On another news, I don't know if you guys have seen it, but I've posted a Christmas Remione (that is also a Rock Band AU). It's called "And a Happy Muggle Xmas" and completed (yay!), so check it out if you want some fluff and romance after this
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and please share your thoughts about it if you can (reviews are like chocolate except they don't give cavities) :)
Sugar Quills to everyone who read, followed and favorited the story, and a special thanks to MrsKunkle, planless, and Oceans Night for the reviews!
[To planless (guest): your review totally made me smile, thank you so much! Here's another update, I hope you like it! Happy Christmas/New Year!]
Much love to you all! xoxo