"Don't shake me, I'm full of tears."
Henri Calet
Harry stared thoughtfully at the people around him. He was proud and happy to have them by his side today. They were all his family, whatever one might think. A family a little broken, a lot blended together, but it was the family he'd chosen, and he wouldn't change it for the world. Of course, several people were absent, his mother in particular, but he had learned over time to live with their absences. Harry was turning seventeen, and he was happy.
His father and godfather were in front of him, as were Regulus and Raphaël. Neville, his parents and his sister Amelia were on his left, and his friends on his right. He felt full, surrounded by the people he loved, and it was wonderful. The majority was something special, and he was happy with the day he'd just had. He knew that his friends had prepared a "surprise" party for him the next day, but he'd heard about it, and knew he'd have fun again tomorrow. But July 31st would always be reserved for his family.
Night fell on Godric's Hollow, and his friends began to head home, while the others gathered in the living room of Harry's house. They were all talking quietly when an owl disturbed their peace.
"Who sends an owl at this hour?"
"Look, it seems to have something with it."
Indeed, the owl dropped a letter in front of James and a small trunk in front of Harry. Both looked at each other, wondering what it all meant. Harry was the first to open it and came across a letter, then a vial. He opened the letter first, and his eyes immediately fell on the signature. He stared at it for a moment, then spoke up.
"It's... It's a letter from Helena. It's for you too, Neville."
The wizard stepped forward and read over Harry's shoulder.
Harry, Neville
I don't really know how to begin this letter. You're not even seven yet as I write this, and I have to imagine the two of you ten years later. I know what you'll look like, more or less, but I don't know anything about your future personality, your life, at that time. I'm not even sure about your house at Hogwarts. I hope you're happy, and that you've rebuilt your lives since the end of the War. I'm pretty sure it will end in a few weeks, a few months at the latest, but I could be wrong and maybe you'll never read this letter, that I'll still be by your side ten years from now, but I doubt it.
I almost forgot the most important thing. Happy birthday to you both! At 17, you are now adults, with all the responsibilities that implies. I hope your day went well, normally you'd receive this letter on the 31st, sorry Neville, but I had to wait until Harry was of age too.
I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing to you now, after so many years. As I said, you're adults now, and there are certain things you're capable of understanding differently. The vial you hold contains my memories. I know it's not necessarily appropriate, even now, and just because you're of age doesn't mean you'll be able to handle what's in that vial any better, but now it's up to you two. Of course, you don't have to look at them at the same time, one may be ready and the other not, but if you can both do it at the same time, it might help.
My life hasn't been easy, but I haven't sugar-coated the truth, and this will be the reality you'll see, if at least you decide one day to look at them, again, you don't have to. My birth name isn't Helena, and Remi's wasn't Remi. But whatever happens, after what you're about to learn, you can always talk to Raphaël, he knows everything.
It's not with joy that I'm giving you my memories, but for those you could have been, it was unthinkable for me not to explain everything to you.
I was tortured and raped by Death eaters, and they killed my friends and family in front of my eyes, and I died for a just cause, but the War lasted much longer for me than for the others, but you both allowed me to regain a taste for life. I'm happy to have been part of your life, to have changed your diapers, to have comforted you, to have taught you the basics of magic.
Anyway, I'm talking a lot to say nothing, and I'll explain it all to you in person.
Take care, you two, I love you, and happy birthday again!
Helena
There was a heavy silence in the room as everyone watched Harry and Neville read the letter. The only ones not worried were Raphaël and Regulus, who suspected that the two wizards would receive a letter from Helena.
When they had finished, Harry and Neville looked at each other for a long moment, unsure of what to do. They had never expected to receive anything from Helena after so long, and the contents were rather surprising.
"The vial contains Helena's memories."
Alice stared at her son, who had just spoken. Helena's memories, she didn't know what it contained, but she was sure of it, there were probably few happy things, and she wasn't sure she wanted her son to see all the horrors Helena had suffered.
"Are you sure?"
"I have the same vial at home. These are her memories."
"Have you seen them?"
"You don't think my mother hid her memories from me and then gave them to you? I received them on my seventeenth birthday, just like you."
"And you looked at them right away?"
"No, I wasn't ready. It was when I was twenty that I decided I was capable of looking at them. But it was very hard. It's not without consequences. It haunted me for weeks. It's up to you to decide whether you're able to see them now, or whether you'd rather wait. I'd advise you to wait, but that's entirely up to you."
"But I think the two of you should talk it over first. If Helena has written you a joint letter, it's surely so that you can make the decision together."
The two wizards nodded and went up to Harry's room to talk quietly. They seemed to be still in shock and needed to really understand what all this meant.
They both sat down on Harry's bed, but neither dared to speak. They didn't realize yet that they were about to get to know Helena's whole life.
"Remember in first year? When a sixth year practically harassed us because he saw that being at Hogwarts brought back too many memories, both good and bad."
"Yes, I remember, and we were even sadder because it was the anniversary of Mum's death. I'll always remember the look on his face when Helena showed up to threaten him. I still wonder how it was possible."
"Through the Link."
"Of course it was through the Link, but she was dead, and she appeared in front of us, just like that, only to disappear immediately."
"I've had time to think since then, and I'm convinced that the Link never disappeared, contrary to what we were told when she died. There's still some of her magical essence in us. And the primary function of the Link is to protect us. We felt threatened, in danger, and she appeared to protect us. She couldn't talk to us because it wasn't really her, only a part of her essence, and she wasn't a ghost, she couldn't stay with us."
"You've thought this through."
"See, Gryffindors can think on their feet. I'm rather surprised that you haven't thought about it. I know that as soon as I broach the subject, you close up, so I thought you'd prefer to think about it alone."
"You know that at the end of the War I rejected everything I'd ever known. Of course Helena's death upset me, but it wasn't just that. I was jealous of people I didn't know, because they hadn't had to live through war as children, I was angry that Dad sent me to Illvermorny and that Padfoot and Moony didn't say anything to stop him. I was so angry at the world for taking my mother, my uncle and my aunt away from me, and I couldn't understand why Remi and Raphaël had to leave when they were alive. And Remi's death the following year... I'm sorry, it's my birthday, we should be downstairs celebrating and not crying in my room over old memories."
"Speaking of memories... What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready to see Helena's whole life. We know she was horrible, and Raphaël said he waited until he was twenty. Do you remember when that was? He was feeling better, and suddenly he looked traumatized again, even though he was trying to hide it."
'There's a sentence in the letter that disturbs me. It's not with joy that I'm giving you my memories, but for those you could have been, it was unthinkable for me not to explain everything to you. Do you understand what she means by that? The ones we could have been, I don't understand."
"I don't think we'll understand until we look at the memories."
The two soul brothers looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, trying to pierce the other. They didn't need words to understand each other, not anymore, and they agreed with a glance. Harry summoned a pensieve, and without a word, Neville poured Helena's memories into it. They looked at each other one last time, and dived in in perfect harmony.
They landed abruptly on a tiled floor and stood up, trying to figure out where they were. They were in a Muggle classroom, but it was empty, so they headed outside and rushed in when they heard screams. They came upon a little girl, in tears, trying to catch up with a book. The person holding it was much taller, and was taking great pleasure in watching the girl jump to catch it. They watched the scene, but although they weren't part of it, they felt bad for the little girl. Without anyone understanding, the boy holding the book fell, and the little girl rushed to snatch it out of his hands.
"You'll think I'm crazy, but I think she looks a lot like…"
"Hermione! Come here this instant! I've already told you to stop bothering the others with your books!"
"But…"
"No buts. And you'd be better off trying to play with the others instead of reading all the time, that's not the way to be less lonely and make friends!"
"Yes, ma'am."
The little girl didn't wait for an answer and fled to the bathroom.
"Do you think it's really Hermione?" asked Harry, unsure of himself.
"I'm not sure. Well, she looks a lot like her, but... Do you get the impression there's a war going on here? Look around. Hermione used to live just outside London when she was little, so we should be somewhere devastated, I'm not even sure there was a school. "
"But this little girl? And even so, why would Helena show us this, look. Did Hermione ever talk to you about what was going on before she went to Hogwarts?"
"She's your best friend!"
"She's your girlfriend! Maybe she's told you things she hasn't told me."
"She hasn't told me anything else."
The two wizards were stopped in their discussion as the memory changed. They were now in a living room where three people were seated. They recognized them all, but had to face the facts.
"It's definitely Hermione. And her parents. "
"But how could Helena have this memory? I mean... she was already dead!"
"Wait for it!"
"Hermione, would you get the mail please? I think the mailman came."
The little girl obeyed her father and left the house, before hurrying back. She threw the bill addressed to her parents on the dining table and opened the letter addressed to her.
Harry and Neville saw a look of pure joy come over her face, before sadness replaced it.
"What is it, darling?"
"It's probably someone making fun of me. It says I'm a witch and someone will come and explain so I can get into their school. It's probably people from the school who thought it was funny to send me this."
But her parents, like Harry and Neville, hadn't missed their daughter's joy at reading the letter.
The memory changed, but the two wizards realized from the layout of the room and the people present that only a few hours had passed since the previous memory. They saw Professor McGonagall explaining to Hermione and her parents that she was indeed a witch, that it was no joke and that there was a place waiting for her at Hogwarts.
The scenery changed again and they realized they were on the Hogwarts Express.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."
"Do you think it's me?
"We already told him we haven't seen it" said Ron.
"Look at the boy next to her."
"But I don't really look like him. He looks a bit... lost, goofy. I wasn't like that in first year. Take a look at the other boy."
"Oh are you doing magic? Let's see it then."
"That's not me either! Look at him! Dad would never have left me with broken glasses. And he's tiny, I must have been this size at seven, not eleven."
Hermione sat down on the bench and watched Ron carefully cast the spell, which failed.
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all out set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
"I'm Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter."
"How many other Harry Potter do you know? "
"I don't understand all these names. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville... How is this possible?"
"Are you really? I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for backround reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?"
"Goodness didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me."
"What's she talking about? Why does an eleven-year-old appear in so many books?
Neville shook his head, no more understanding than Harry. Hermione's life-changing memory flashed before their eyes. The breakdown, her loneliness, her determination to be the best student, the beginning of her friendship with Harry and Ron. As the years went by, they saw Hermione and her friends grow up, discover the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, go back in time, free a prisoner, escape from a werewolf, attend the Quidditch World Cup, live through the Three Wizards Tournament, learn of Voldemort's return, witness the death of a student. They saw Harry's isolation, the distress he was in that no one seemed to see. They saw the horror that was their fifth year, but they also saw the hope in DA. Harry had to restrain himself from screaming when he saw Sirius pass through the archway and forced himself to remember that Sirius was right there in the living room, waiting for answers.
As the years passed before their eyes, they became aware of everything. Harry knew this wasn't his life, because only his mother had died on October 31st, 1981, and it hadn't happened to him, because there was no prophecy about him. He knew that his godfather had been by his side for seventeen years, and he knew that his uncle couldn't have taught him in the third grade, because he'd died long before that. He knew it wasn't his godmother he'd seen in that bed, because his godmother had never been subjected to the cruciatus spell long enough to go mad from it. They watched as teenagers gradually sank into darkness, as houses became bound together by horror, as attempts were made to protect the youngest from decay, with no real success, it was war, everyone knew.
They witnessed the hunt for horcruxes, interspersed with revolutionary movements at Hogwarts. Then they saw a deadly battle they'd rather not have witnessed. They watched the bodies fall, unable to do anything about it. They witnessed Voldemort's victory and Harry's death. Events unfolded before their eyes: the shaky resistance, Hermione's torture, Neville's death, Ron's death, Hermione's rape and torture once again, Draco Malfoy's rescue, and the trail of the Jewels of Time. They witnessed the reunion of Hermione and Remus and the beginning of their quest.
"Do you think..."
Neville was the first to understand who they were. Perhaps he had a little more perspective since Harry had been one of the main characters in the memories.
"...that Helena and Remi are the people in front of us. Hermione and Remus."
Harry didn't answer her, too focused on what was unfolding before his eyes. But the next memories only confirmed Neville's suspicions. And when Hel Hogwarts gave them their new names, it all came flooding back.
He'd known all along that Helena's life hadn't been a happy one. Even when he was very young, he knew there was something different between Helena and her parents, who were the same age, or so he thought. The look in her eyes had always made Neville very sad, though he hadn't known why. Now he knew. He knew that at his age, Helena had been the central figure in a war, and that a few years later, she'd dropped everything to save the world. They'd learned from her parents that Helena had been through a lot in the war, that she'd been tortured, raped, escaped death several times, spent over a year in a coma, but that no matter what she'd been through, she was always the one who fought the hardest, to make sure the war ended.
Neville had always admired her, even when she was still alive. And more than anything, he was even prouder because he was related to her. She wasn't his aunt by blood, but she was his aunt by heart. And Neville ached terribly, because here, Hermione was his girlfriend, but now the images overlapped and he couldn't help seeing her mutilated body when he thought of her, but that was the problem, it wasn't her, it was Helena.
And Helena's life flashed before their eyes. They were again horrified by what they saw and had to control themselves to keep from vomiting at the memories they saw. Then everything stopped abruptly. They were in the dark, and then another memory appeared, and they saw at once that it was no longer one of Helena's.
It was Remi, but it wasn't a memory like the others, it was directly addressed to them.
"Harry, Neville, I know it wasn't easy to watch, that you certainly didn't expect to see this, and I'm sure you had no idea who we really were. I don't know what your relationship is with Hermione here, but if she's a friend, a close friend, and you think it's helpful or might take a weight off your shoulders, you can show her these memories so she knows who she might have been. I know that if you're friends with her, it's going to take some time getting used to it. Memories are painful, so don't keep your emotions to yourself. Talk about it. Between the two of you, with Raphaël, with Regulus, with your parents. If you feel like it, you can show the memories to James, Sirius, Alice and Frank. I love you, make your dreams come true, don't put up any barriers and be happy.
The pensine threw them back and they landed in Harry's room, bewildered. Harry fell to his knees and Neville rushed to him. He took him in his arms and helped him up.
"I know it's hard, Harry. I know I could collapse any minute, but I think we should go downstairs, they're probably worried sick down there."
Harry nodded and they both joined their family. To their surprise, the sun was already high and they were having breakfast. They all turned at once when they heard them coming. As Neville made his way to his parents, Harry rushed into Raphaël's arms, crying.
"I'm so sorry."
Raphaël dropped his cup and hugged Harry. He understood the pain Harry could feel; he'd cried for three days after seeing Hermione's memories.
"It's not your fault, Harry."
"I know, but... you've had to live with this for years without telling us. I don't even know how I'm going to get these images out of my head and…"
Harry burst into tears again, before Raphaël's helpless eyes. He suspected that viewing the memories would have more impact on Harry than on Neville. Because Neville still had both parents, and although he considered Remus an uncle, he was less close to him than Harry. Of course, it was terrifying to see his parents like this, with no real conscience, and there would be consequences, but they were there to remind him that this wasn't reality. Harry, on the other hand, no longer had his mother, and although his father was there, he couldn't get the puny little Harry he'd seen out of his head. But he knew Raphaël was there for him if he needed him.
He finally broke away from him and wiped away his tears, but at the sight of his godfather, they immediately welled up again. Seeming to understand his questioning, Raphaël spoke to him.
"I've filled them in. In broad outline. They know who they were, what they did... "
Sirius seemed... elsewhere. Harry immediately saw the trace of the revelation of Remi's identity on him.
"I'm sorry, Padfoot.
Sirius took him in his arms, and let his own tears flow. He'd never imagined that Remi had been Remus in another life. Because he couldn't put them together. Granted, they were both werewolves, but his mind refused to go any further with the comparison.
"Was it that hard?"
"She showed us everything, Dad. Everything. What time is it, anyway?"
"Ten o'clock. You were there for several hours."
"Um... If you like, you can see the memories too. Remi said we could show them to you. "
In front of their stunned faces, Neville had to clarify.
"There was a message from him at the end."
"I don't know if…"
"It's up to you, you don't have to do it now either."
"Harry, where are you going?"
"I need some time alone... to think. "
He went outside and waited for the protection spells to end so he could disapparate. James wanted to follow him, but Regulus stopped him. He'd just learned some disturbing news, so he'd better analyze it alone first.
Harry landed in Hogsmeade and headed for a place he knew well. The Field of Honours. It was a place created by the Ministry at the end of the war, for all those who hadn't survived. He'd been there many times over the years, often out of duty and obligation rather than choice. He hated the name. There was no honor in killing or dying in excruciating pain. It was only the duty and determination of the individual that mattered. War wasn't just a romantic conception for heroes, it was the reality of a life, his life, and today it's told in history books as an adventure.
But war wasn't adventure, it was mud, blood, tears and death. And history liked to remember heroes. But heroism wasn't a positive thing, it was the opposite. The heroes Harry had known were lonely, sad and devastated. Broken, even. Heroes didn't want to be covered in glory; most of the time, they had nothing to live for. Without evil, there is no good. Without tyrants, there are no heroes. Today, the tyrant was dead, and so were the heroes.
And Harry could still remember the emptiness he had felt. He'd known from the time he was seven that Helena hadn't survived..., the pain within the Link had been such that he'd felt as if part of his heart had been ripped out. And after viewing Helena's memories, he was sure of it. He'd never want to be a hero.
Harry walked through the aisles, knowing the way by heart. He always started at his mother's plaque. He hated this place, but he hated cemeteries even more, so his father had preferred to bring him here rather than to Godric's Hollow Cemetery. He stood for a few moments in front of the name Lily Potter née Evans, then continued on his way; there were people approaching and he wanted to be alone.
He arrived in front of three side-by-side plaques. Helena Grace, Remi Lucas, Remus Lupin.
Although Remus's body had disappeared, enough of them had witnessed his death to confirm it. It was Raphaël who had fought for Remi to have a plaque. The Ministry's agents had initially refused, arguing that he had no proof that he had indeed died, and that in any case, it had happened after the end of the war. Raphaël had won his case, Harry was convinced, with threats. And even though Raphaël had fought for this recognition, he had continued to claim in private that Remi had not died. Harry had always wondered why he was so sure, but since that was why he was doing so much research, he had to have serious proof.
"Hi, Helena. It may seem silly to talk to a plaque like this, but the pictures I have of you are at my house, and it's too crowded. I know some of your ashes are under the Whomping Willow, but it's too weird. I know you can't hear me, but I think I still need to talk. I've seen your memories." Harry paused, trying to sort out his thoughts. "To say I was shocked is an understatement. I never would have thought you were Hermione. You don't look very much alike. She's my best friend. Like you and your Harry. We met in first year. But not on the train, in the Ravenclaw common room. Sometimes I still wonder why the Sorting Hat put me there. I've felt out of place there for years, I don't feel particularly wise or intelligent. Hermione says it's because I'm creative and clever when I want to be, or in a way that's different from what's expected of us academically. Dad says I'm wise enough to make my jokes to everyone, not just a group of people. She's Neville's girlfriend too, they've been together since fourth year. Remi told us we could show her your memories. I think I'd like to, because I don't like keeping things from her, and she sees it when I do anyway. I just wish I had your permission too, but I know that's impossible. Ron... Ron's not my best friend, but I get on very well with him. He's closer to Neville. He had a bit of trouble at first with the fact that I'm not a Gryffindor, but he got over it."
Harry caught his breath and continued.
"I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through. It's not fair that you had to make up for the mistakes of the leaders alone with Remi. It's not fair that you had to endure so much torture, both physical and mental, but you did it! Today there's peace, and it's largely thanks to you. I just wanted to come here to thank you for everything you've done, for me and for Harry of your world. You've been a great friend, a great aunt and a great mum to Raphaël, so thank you. I know I'll never see you the same again, but I'm grateful to have learned the truth."
Harry stood up and wiped away tears. A smile now graced his lips and he walked to the exit of Hogsmead, the August sun beating down on his face. Harry knew he had his whole life ahead of him to make the people he loved proud, including those who were no longer there. He returned home, soothed. His father was happy to see him back so soon. He took him in his arms, before letting Raphaël come forward.
"Here, at the bottom of the trunk, Neville found this. He said maybe you'd understand."
Harry took the photo Raphaël held out to him and inspected it. It was a photo of Helena, Neville and himself. If he remembered correctly, it was when Helena had just come out of hospital, when she was still too weak to fight and was teaching them. The two little four-year-old wizards were in awe of the patronus she'd just summoned. He turned the photo over, and smiled wider as he read the inscription.
You've got it.