Outrunning Our Shadows

Disclaimer:  All characters (but those I’ve invented) belong to JK Rowling and the respective publishing houses.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made on this story apart from the personal enjoyment I get in writing it.

 

A/N:  This is a companion piece to Someone Who Fits Me Like You Do.  Please read that story before beginning this one.  If you don’t, you won’t fall over dead, but you might miss some of the subtleties in this story.  Just a thought.  Happy reading!

 

 

Outrunning Our Shadows

 

Off the Track 

 

We knew when the black owl came flying down from the rafters that morning at breakfast.  A hush swept the Great Hall, and almost all one thousand and twenty-six of the Hogwarts student body watched fearfully, as the great black owl circled the room.  Everyone knew of the madman who was gaining power outside the walls of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Some, myself included, felt that he was gaining power within the walls, but no one had any proof, so they kept quiet, keeping any accusations to themselves.  Instead, we watched and waited for those who sided with Voldemort (the foolish already called him You-Know-Who in fear of his rage, should he hear them name him) to slip up and identify themselves.

 

I sat at the Gryffindor table with my friends, munching on some kippers and listening to my buddy Peter moan despairingly about the horror that was rising in our midst.  Everyone seemed to have suspended their breathing.  I quickly glanced down the length of the table and saw that most students sat, hands gripping eating utensils with white knuckles, mouths agape, eyes glued to the one bird among dozens, winging down toward the tables.  Each flap of its wings could be heard individually of all the other post owls, and as it passed each House, small sighs of relief could be heard as each student realized their families were safe, temporarily, from the wrath of the Dark Lord.  At every table, students snapped back to reality as the owl passed, showing visible signs of released tension and dread, including, much to my surprise, the Slytherin table.  While there were a few who gazed on the populace with a sneer, the majority appeared to be as frightened as the rest of us.  How odd, I noted.  You’d think they’d be waiting with glee, to see which “Mudblood” was now an orphan.

 

Even though I was gripped by the same uncertain fear as the rest of the student body, I looked around the Hall with a sad sort of detachment from the rest of the students.  My parents, both of them Aurors, had lost their lives in the fight against Voldemort early in his campaign for power, during my third year.  As the owl made its landing at the Head table in front of Professor Dumbledore, my mind traveled back to another morning, when a similar black owl delivered a similar message, and for days, I heard the hauntingly familiar words echoing in my head.

 

We are terribly sorry to inform you that your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Henry and Abigail Potter, were killed in the line of duty.  They died as Aurors with highest honors, and we send our most sincere condolences.

 

Blinking back the inevitable tears that always followed the memory of my parents, I watched as Dumbledore cracked the Ministry seal on the letter, his eyes losing their luster by degrees as he learned of another casualty in this growing war.  My heart went out to the person who would soon find him or herself in my position, and I selfishly hoped that it would be no one I knew.

 

Being near the head of the House table, I was able to catch Professor McGonagall’s gasp of horror as she read the letter.  “Oh no, Albus---“ were the words I heard whispered.  The other professors reacted much the same, stunned by this new onslaught of grief.  Morbidly fascinated, we students kept our eyes on the Headmaster, waiting in anticipation for some news, some release from this heart-rending suspense.  He stood, slowly, lips thinned, and put his hands down on the table, leaning on them as if a great weight rested on his shoulders.  He waited until the black owl flew back out the window, watching it go with a frown wrinkling his features.  After a moment, he addressed the Hall.

 

“Today, we have been faced with another example of the tragedies going on in our world.  Another of our Hogwarts community has been affected, as have we all.  We all must stand against this evil.  We must be united against Voldemort.”  Many of the students openly flinched at the name.  Dumbledore continued, undaunted.  “Please believe that Hogwarts is one of the safest places for you to be right now.  These walls act as a shield between the current struggle and yourselves, so that we might teach you to be well-trained and fully-capable members of the Wizarding community.  On a related note, no prejudice will be tolerated within our halls, and any ridicule or taunting of any student will result in immediate and thorough punishment.  You may all now finish breakfast and go to your classes.”  He finished his speech, eyes hard and cold, boring into the students, impressing on them the seriousness of the situation.  Even Sirius was without comment as our group got up slowly, walking toward the door. 

 

No one noticed Lily being held back by a teary Professor McGonagall.  No one saw her face turn ashen as she realized why she was detained.  No one, not even her best friends, saw when she collapsed in a dead faint and was rushed to the Hospital Wing.

 

~~~~~

 

We walked to class as if in a dream, a nightmare from which we would eventually awaken.  No one knew yet the identity of the student affected, but all of us felt saddened by the events of breakfast.  My friends and I made slow progress toward Transfiguration, as people seemed to instinctively look to the older students for information and guidance.  As a sixth-year Prefect, I was used to being asked for help, but somehow felt like I wasn’t up for it this morning.

 

The responses were automatic.  No, we don’t know whose parents died.  No, we’re not sure what happened.  I’m sure Dumbledore will tell us when it’s appropriate.  Yes, it probably would be a good idea to talk to your Head of House if you’re worried about your family.  Yes, you’re safe at Hogwarts. 

 

When we finally reached the classroom, we had ten minutes to spare before McGonagall was due to begin the lesson.  We found our normal seats, and turned, facing each other to converse for the first time since this morning’s announcements.  Sirius broke the silence first.

 

“What a bloody waste!  When is he going to be caught for his crimes?”  His eyes were dark, glittering dangerously.  Usually the light-hearted one of the bunch, it was rare to see Sirius Black so worked up in public.  To his friends, however, his hatred of all things Dark was common knowledge, as was his goal to join forces with Dumbledore against Voldemort upon graduation.  For all the times he spent pranking the Slytherins and joking around, he spent an equal amount of time studying spells and tactics useful to help him in his quest to become an Auror.  “I can’t wait to get out of here and do something, instead of just sitting here, waiting for Voldie to come get me.” 

 

Remus Lupin raised his head from his hands, light brown eyes taking in Sirius’s reaction and tight from withheld emotion.  “Do what I’m doing, Padfoot.  Learn all you can.  Be as well-armed as you can be for when you graduate.  The way things are going, we’ll have to be doing more than just defending against the Dark Arts in order to end this madness.  Yes, Peter, that usually means studying, as much as you hate it.”  Usually the logical one, Remus acted to keep the group in emotional balance, soothing Sirius’s outbursts and encouraging Peter out of his hesitance.  It was a sobering moment for me, seeing my friends so unnaturally muted in their vivacity.  I shook my head at the bitter irony of it all.  Voldemort isn’t just stealing our parents.  He’s stealing our childhoods.

 

The fourth member of our group, Peter Pettigrew, tapped my arm.  “You alright there, Prongs?  Memories coming back to haunt you?”  Never one for tact, Peter was always on the nose.  Even if he wasn’t the brightest of our group, and couldn’t keep up with our marks if his life depended upon it, Peter was excellent at observing and noticing details.  He could tell at the slightest change of mood, and had good intuition about people’s attitudes.  This probably is what made him the Chess Master of Gryffindor.  He could always tell when someone was nervous, or when an opening was made.  I caught myself remembering the day before, when Lily had finally beaten him.  The match had taken three hours, and food had had to be requisitioned from the house elves so that the opponents wouldn’t be interrupted to go to the Great Hall for dinner.  After more than six volleys of Check.  Check, Lily got a small grin on her face, and Peter started showing beads of sweat on his forehead.  As fully half the House watched, Lily broke the pattern by moving her rook to a precarious position, in the direct path of Peter’s queen.  Peter immediately took the rook, putting his queen in direct line for checkmate in two.  When Lily started chuckling, the whole audience was confused.  When she moved her bishop to take his queen, the audience held its breath.  When she declared Check and mate, the audience went wild.  Peter stared at the board, frantically figuring out what had gone wrong.  Finally, he’d called it a fair checkmate, declared himself beaten, and scheduled several re-matches.  It was the highlight of the night.

 

Thinking of the last member of our group, I jolted myself back to the present.  Odd though it might have been, one girl in the same group as the Marauders of Gryffindor, we saw Lily as our mascot and little sister.  Even though she was the same age as us all, she was Muggleborn, and subject to social prejudices that we four pure-blooded wizards wouldn’t encounter.  She got along better with us than her fellow year-mates, and we were glad of her company.  Bright, witty, and with a ready smile, she had more intelligence and good humor than any other girl in the school.  She was also, to our profound relief, levelheaded enough to deal with our “boisterous” natures, mischievous antics, and was able to deflate our swelled egos whenever a pretty girl winked in our direction.  She even helped with our pranking, occasionally, whenever we couldn’t figure out a charm, or required some Muggle expertise.  Man, when I think of some of the pranks she’s claimed as her “brainchildren”…

 

Apart from Sirius, she was probably the best friend I had at Hogwarts.  We had the kind of relationship where  we could share just about anything, and it wouldn’t be out of line or strange.  We discussed dirty laundry, girls, boys, homework, hopes, dreams, all the kinds of things that you think about before you go to bed at night and wished to have someone else’s opinion about.  It was hard to see her as anything other than an intrinsic part of our group, of me.  Without her, I don’t know how I could have gotten over my parents’ deaths, or my fights with Sirius.  She was the kind of friend that everyone longs to have – the sounding board for all of your crazy schemes and daydreams.  We all loved her, at least a little bit.  Even though she was well-liked, she needed us as much as we needed her, and our group wouldn’t ever have been complete for long without her sardonic commentary.

 

Dragging my mind to the current time, I looked around the room for our little redhead.  “Hey guys,” I said, wheeling my head around, scanning over the heads of the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs with whom we shared this class.  “Where’s Lily?”

 

The other three shrugged, looking around as well, but none of us was able to land our eyes on that shock of red hair.  After figuring she must have either gotten stopped and asked questions like we were, or had gone to speak to Dumbledore about the morning’s events, we settled back into our seats, contemplating the new day ahead, and the possibilities of ruining Severus Snape’s day.

 

As we formulated a plan, involving a ball of string, a bucket of soapy dishwater, and a simple pulley, the door opened and Professor McGonagall walked in quickly, looking out of sorts.  She threw a glance in our direction, and we immediately hid our plans, assuming the automatic “What, who me?” look.  Instead of taking points, as she usually did at some point during the class period, she blinked several times and shook her head slightly.  Something was up.  Even without our Animagus forms, we could smell it.

 

In a small voice, still crisp with authority, but diminished by some unnamed emotion, McGonagall announced, “Miss Evans will not be joining us for class this period.  Mr.’s Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew, if you would join me outside for a moment please.”  She walked back through the door without looking back, obviously expecting us to follow.

 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.  At about this time, something was occurring to Sirius, Remus, and me.  We all, in unison, blanched.  As one, “Oh fuck.”  When Peter looked at us, he too paled, and started shaking.  We walked outside the classroom, with eyes like daggers into our backs, and hearts like lead, banging painfully in our chests.

 

I can’t say for the other three, but I didn’t hear a word of what McGonagall was saying.  I assume it ran along the lines of an apology, sincere condolences, and entreaties to support Lily during this hard time.  For my part, however, her words washed over me, and all I heard was, “We are terribly sorry to inform you that your parents were killed.  They’re dead.  Dead.”  My heart seized painfully, contracting so I couldn’t breathe.  I ripped my arms from Sirius’s grip, where I didn’t even feel his hand on my shoulder at all, and uttered some sort of negation.  With the shocked eyes of my three friends and my Head of House on me, I took off, running like mad from the shadows in my past, running like mad to the friend that I knew would be needing help.

 

I knew, unlike the others, that the only thing holding Lily up, besides our group friendship, was the love of her parents.  At home, she was ridiculed by her sister for her magic, called a “freak” and all sorts of other insults.  I imagine that her sister would have been a perfect Slytherin, had she been born magical.  Her parents were her comfort in the summers and over breaks, and they cushioned her from all of Petunia’s prejudices.  Oh, the countless times I’d listened to Lily vent about how she couldn’t understand her sister’s hatred for Lily’s abilities, and how even with late night talks with her mom over a slice of raspberry pie, Petty was wearing away at the fragile layer of self-esteem that Lily worked so hard to maintain.  Without her parents there, she’d lose two of the most important people in her life.

 

God knows what she was capable of doing.  So I ran, full-tilt, ignoring the strangely over-intense feelings and worries I felt, wishing for all the world that I could Apparate within the walls of Hogwarts, to wrap my arms around my best friend just that much sooner, and give her the comfort she needed.  I had to make sure she’d still be there.

 

 

It's a long way down

On this roller coaster

The last chance streetcar

Went off the track

And you're on it

 

~~~~~

 

A/N:  Just so you know, strictly speaking, I’m not talking about suicide here.  In case you wondered.  Also, I am taking some advice to try and write a slightly longer story.  If you’ve read Someone Who Fits Me Like You Do, you will realize that this story corresponds with that one, but from a slightly different point of view.  The timeline of this story is Fall, 6th year.  This is pre-Amos Diggory.  Also, fyi – the timeline for Someone is Fall of 7th year.  I just fail to mention their “Head Boy/Head Girl” statuses.

 

Song quotes are from Alanis Morissette’s “Mary Jane,” off the Jagged Little Pill LP.

 

Please let me know if you like this slightly longer storyline, and any other comments that you provide will be sincerely appreciated.  Special thanks go out to pommekitty for her advice.  I hope you like this!

 

And, don’t worry, because this DOES correspond with a slightly mushy story, there WILL be fluff in later chapters.  Not yet, though.  Give me time to have some semblance of an actual plot.  We can’t be all fluff, you understand.