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:  I have to explain myself a bit.  When I originally started Ch. 4, I had plans to go all the way through the Hogsmeade visit.  My fingers, however, decided that they would write a bit longer on everything leading up to it, and therefore we don’t get to Hogsmeade by the end of Ch. 4.  This means, therefore, that this chapter, which was meant to be the return of Lily, will now include the Hogsmeade visit.  I promise that it will be sufficiently lengthy and will now include the bit of original plot that I’ve been promising, since I know that the “photo album” has been done before.  And, I’m sure that my choice for a plot has been done, as well, but it hasn’t been done by me, ergo it is original enough.  Flawed logic?  Perhaps.  Does it make any difference in my writing?  Doubtful.  One note before Ch. 5 – the photo album has little to do with the plot itself.  It’s just a side-deal.  The actual storyline has only been hinted at in Ch. 4…hopefully this will elucidate a bit.  Onward and upward!

 

Outrunning Our Shadows

 

A Rush of Blood to the Head

 

For the second time in one day, I found myself staring into space in the Common Room, this time, eyes focused slightly to the right of the great wooden fireplace which warmed us Marauders as we passed the evening before traveling to Hogsmeade.  I found my mind wandering while Sirius was outlining what we’d decided to do to Snape, in the event that we come across his path in the village tomorrow.  It was disconcerting, to say the least, that instead of feeling incensed to do something to Snape, I was spending precious thinking time devoted to discovering what made him act how he did, whether it was in his breeding or simply his nature to be a complete git.  Despite the reassurances from Sirius and Peter that the only thing Snape suffered from was an abnormally large stick up his ass, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was more to the reticent and scathing Slytherin than we normally gave him credit for.

 

As Remus called me out of my thoughts for the third time, I put off further pondering until a time when I wouldn’t be interrupted.  God, it’s disgusting…as much as I’d like to know why Snape’s such a git, it’s rather disturbing to see how he’s infesting my thoughts.  I knew that no amount of understanding of Snape would ever bring friendship, but I find myself to be one of those strange people who would always try to understand the why of people, no matter my personal feelings.  Usually, upon some introspection and thought, I discover a reasoning behind a person’s actions, and it improves my relationship with them.  With Snape, however, I might just have used such information for my own personal amusement.  At this point, however, there were more important things to ponder than Severus Snape.

 

It had been to our eternal surprise and delight, upon entering the Common Room, to find it rather crowded with small groups of people, comparing photographs and stories, some laughing, some crying, but all seeming to be eager to participate in our plan, which Sirius named “Operation Soul-Trapping.”  I suppose he found some cosmic connection between the fictitious people of Elbonia with their fear of cameras, and Lily’s melancholy.  According to his skewed logic, because pictures were known by the Elbonians to steal one’s soul, gathering enough pictures of Lily, we would be able to present her with enough pieces of her soul to make her less unhappy.  Please forgive me if I do not understand or pretend to comprehend.  This is Sirius we are talking about.

 

No matter the reasoning behind the naming, the project itself looked to be a success.  I, being lazy, simply owled the other Prefects about any potential contribution they’d like to add.  I had only to write one note, use a quick Duplicatus charm to make enough copies, and send my gray owl Dirk to play “messenger-owl.”  I left the Slytherin Prefects out, as I was certain they would not provide appropriate material, but I figured that, as Lily got along well with Robert Chang and Vijay Patil, two of the Ravenclaw Prefects, the possibilities existed of some of them contributing to the cause.

 

As we documented the pictures and notes that people wanted to add to this album, we quickly realized the vastness of this project.  Being the only Marauder somewhat decent at Charms, I was “volunteered” to collect copies of each memento.  As the evening wore on, my mouth was so tired of saying “Duplicatus!” so that people could have their original proofs returned, I was rather close to swearing off that charm for the rest of my existence.  The mantra I’m doing this for Lily.  This is for Lily played repeatedly in my head, as yet another person asked for double or triple copies of each of their pictures.  The owls from the Prefects arrived later, most with pictures from events that Lily had helped to plan.  Each picture was accompanied, of course, by a note asking for copies.

 

When the throng of students in the Common Room had thinned, and only a few stragglers remained, the guys and I tried to find some organization for the mound of stuff we’d collected.  Figuring that a system of oldest-to-newest would be most logical, we spent over an hour reminiscing with the pictures, trying to figure out whether the picture with Lily being pranked by Peeves was before or after the Great Pillow Fight of the then-3^rd year girls.  It was a trying endeavor, but in the end, we found that we’d learned a lot about Lily from what people had contributed, and had ourselves chuckled over the wealth of memorable events that had been caught on camera.  My favorite of the stack was a picture of our dear Severus, with his face looking like someone took a paint palette and used it as a Paint-by-numbers exercise.  When Lily had started wearing make-up in 4^th year, Sirius had made the joke that a similar spell could be used on Snape (Lily was offended at the beginning, but, in our defense, she wasn’t that skilled with a blusher right from the start).  In the years since, Lily has become much more skilled in her make-up application, but Snape has yet to sweep our prank under the rug, as someone always brings it up in casual conversation.  In this particular picture, the Slytherin is rubbing agitatedly at his brilliantly red nose, a permanent scowl on his candy-pink lips, not realizing that the paint is 24-hours permanent.  When he blushed, his already olive-green cheeks took on a slightly nauseating color.  Each of his ears was a different color, and he appeared to have two black eyes, except that they were done in orange and puce.  Oh, but it was funny.

 

We worked together to put all of the materials in an expandable box, which we would store in our dorm until all of the pictures could be added to the album.  Even as we breathed a sigh of relief for having finished that project, a tapping was heard, coming from the large window near the fireplace.

 

Another damn owl.

 

If I were a Muggle, I would have taken a shot-gun and disposed of the wretched bird.  I wanted no more to do with pictures for the evening, even if they were of Lily.  As it winged into the room, however, I recognized the spotted owl as Hedron, who belonged to Lily.  With a renewed vigor, I leapt over the ottoman my feet had been resting on, and grabbed the letter from the bird almost before it was able to settle itself on the back of the armchair.  Catching my excitement, the other three hauled themselves up from wherever they’d been lounging, and read over my shoulders, or, in Sirius’s case, from overtop my head.

 

Friday Night, 12 am

Hello Marauders!

This is going to be a little rushed, but I wanted to let you know I was alive and kicking, if only feebly.  We just got back to the house, and it seems so quiet compared to Gryffindor Tower.  Thank you again for all of your support the last few days.  I’m not sure I’d be doing ok right now without your help.  Petty’s definitely not taking the situation well, and I anticipate a rough weekend ahead.

James, please keep Hedron with you this weekend.  I’d planned to keep him delivering notes to keep me from going insane, but after watching him dodge forks and other cutlery during Petty’s first tantrum, I’d rather him be safe and in one piece.  Maybe I should tell her that Hedron is on the Endangered Species List (well, the Muggle versions of him are), she might be more careful.  I fear, however, that she would only decide then to call Scotland Yard, and have them arrest me of abusing the poor bird.

Heaven help me!  I’ll be back at Hogwarts on Sunday around dinnertime.   Tomorrow’s gonna be a challenge.

Dying in Muggle-country,

Lily

 

“How could a yard in Scotland arrest Lily?” Sirius asked, as he finished reading the little missive.  He’d laid his head on his arms, which he’d crossed on top of my head.  I imagine we looked like a Native American Totem Pole.

 

Remus snorted, while Peter smirked and laughed lightly.  “Sirius,” Remus replied, “Scotland Yard is the Muggle version of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at the Ministry.  They’re not Aurors, though.  I think they’re called… please-men.”  He looked a bit confused by the name, but wasn’t about to admit that he wasn’t sure of the meaning.

 

“Please-men?  Why would you call them that?  Do they have to say “please” when arresting someone?” Peter asked, voicing the question that no one else would.  He turned to me, as if I knew.  Me, a full-blooded wizard, with generations of wizards before me.  Nice try, Wormtail.

 

Partially to answer, and partially to get him back for his comments earlier, I went up to him and put my arm around his shoulder, saying, “If you remember, I’m not a Muggle.”  I winked at Sirius, who suddenly covered his mouth to hold in the giggles he was obviously overcome with.

 

Peter growled at me, lips twitching like a predatory animal.  Remus, who had caught on to our jibing, took his turn.  “Sorry, Peter, but I believe that’s my animal you’re imitating.  Your animal sounds more like a squeaky toy that my brother’s Kneazle plays with.”

 

Sirius no longer attempted to hold in his laughs as Peter turned bright red.  Figuring we’d needled him almost enough, I turned and walked to the stairs which led to our dormitory.  As the laughter died down, I said, mock-grumpily, “Now then, if you louts don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

 

And with that, I raced up the stairs, intent on locking the curtains around my bed before the little rat could catch me.

 

~~~~~

 

The night passed uneventfully, though I heard in the morning that Peter stayed up half the night plotting his revenge.  In the morning, we woke ungodly early for a Saturday, grabbed a quick breakfast from the Kitchens, and set out for Hogsmeade.  We spoke little on the way, except my “Ow!” for the punch in the shoulder I received by way of a greeting from Peter immediately upon leaving my bed.

 

Hogsmeade was just waking up as we walked down High Street.  We walked into Dervish and Banges, near the end of the long street, pausing to browse at all the bits and bobs that cluttered the small shop.  When asked if we needed anything by the small, nervous-looking shopkeeper, we explained our situation.  A short while later, we left the shop, purses a bit lighter, toting a photograph album guaranteed to hold as many pictures as we wanted to put in there.  It was perfect for what we were looking for, as it had a special charm on it to expand to fit as large or small a collection as was desired, and to still weigh less than 5 pounds.  Considering the weight of all the pictures we sorted the previous night, we felt that the money we spent would be well worth the extra effort, if it was true to its word.

 

The necessary task done, we wandered around the village, taking in the morning smells from the Perk-Up Bakery, where signs that said Sure to energize even the weariest wizard! and Add spring to your step with our Spring Rolls! were plastered on the windows.  I remembered my promise to Dumbledore, and we headed to Honeyduke’s.  I bought a large bag of sherbet lemons for the Headmaster, smiling as I remembered how he was introduced to the Muggle sweet.  In 2^nd year, Lily had been sent a whole basket of candies on her birthday (April 3), and had offered one to the Headmaster.  Lips puckered involuntarily from the sour taste, he gave her a fervent thumbs-up, declaring himself hooked.  Since then, he’d written to the couple who owned Honeyduke’s to ask that they carry the sweet, and was now a devoted customer. 

 

In addition to the lemons, I bought a package of sugar quills, as I’d had a craving for them the other day.  Both Peter and Sirius bought bags of goodies as well, but Remus refrained, complaining that he had a toothache and would need to visit Madame Pomfrey upon returning to the school.  Our candies paid for, we continued our perusal of the magical town.

 

We goggled the new products at Zonko’s, and Sirius brought out quill and parchment to jot down a list of the supplies we would need to buy on our next “official” trip to Hogsmeade.  All four of us had agreed, albeit reluctantly on Sirius’s part, that this trip was all about Lily, and therefore we’d leave off prank-buying until Lily could share it with us.  This did not stop us, however, from deciding unanimously to stop at the Three Broomsticks for lunch and a glass of foaming butterbeer.  Nothing warmed one’s innards quite like that buttery goodness, and, even on this short visit, we could not pass up this opportunity to taste the heavenly drink.  Since discovering the one-eyed witch passage in second year, we’d never slipped into the village without stopping for a butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta, and we weren’t about to start.

 

Mouths watering, we walked back down High Street slowly.  There were now a few people on the street, coming in and out of the shops, and my eye caught on a small group of men talking outside the Hog’s Head, a shady pub that no student, not even a Marauder, dared to enter.  Squinting against the morning light to see the figures better, I could feel my hackles raise as I recognized one as Severus Snape, Slytherin Prefect, and all around Slimy Git.

 

Snape was a formidable adversary, tall and with his own share of Quidditch muscles.  As Keeper for the Slytherin House team, he and I often came into conflict on the field, even if we were avoiding each other off the field.  His black hair was grown to chin length, and was kept in a slick ponytail, emphasizing the Widow’s Peak on his forehead.  His eyes were dark and always held the world in contempt, and they often glittered with repressed malice at any ill-fated student who happened to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  A quick-witted student, he excelled in the classroom, placing highly on end-of-term exams, and sitting among the top in both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Rumors abounded in the hallways about the sources of his knowledge of curses, mostly hinting that he and his weren’t as interested in the Defense as in the Dark Arts themselves.  Overall, he was rather tall, and clothed in his normal black, he was an imposing figure in the hallways.  If he is going for the “Cross me or say one word wrong and your family will die” look, I’d say he’s succeeded, I thought, sardonically.  It was often his overbearing nature and harsh treatment of the student body that prompted reaction by the Marauders in the form of a prank.  Lately, however, it seemed that his reactions, which were always amusing, were reason enough to continue to pick on the wanker.

 

Thinking back to my worries on the day that the owl came about Lily’s parents, about the rise of the Dark Lord, I turned my attention to the group of wizards that surrounded Snape.  The three men were obviously older, two seemingly in their twenties, and one looked to be middle-aged, at least.  All wore black cloaks, and wore a sneer on their lips as they surveyed the other wizards surrounding them.  None looked to be very friendly, but appeared to be at ease with Snape, as they ushered him toward the entrance of the pub.

 

Sirius, however, upon seeing the git, decided at that moment to call out, “Hey Snape!” and jog over to the group.  He slung his arm around the tall Slytherin’s shoulders and proceeded to give the astonished young man a noogie, messing up his entire ensemble.  The three adult wizards stared at Sirius in amazement, disgust written plainly on their countenances as Snape shoved off Sirius’s arm.  While he was desperately trying to smooth the hair back into its ponytail, the three of us walked up to the group, myself mentally preparing for a battle of wits, if not wands.  It would be a fair fight, four-on-four, but I was slightly afraid of the outcome, seeing as how three of the opposition were likely much more advanced in spell-casting, and one of our number was still struggling with 3^rd year Charms.

 

Turning to face the four of us, Snape said silkily, “Ah, if it isn’t the Great James Potter and his little Marauders.”  He said the word as if it were a childish game which one would outgrow upon reaching adulthood.  “Where is the fifth in your entourage?  The Mudblood, Evans is it?  I imagine that she’s still mourning the loss of those Muggle parents of hers.  I don’t pretend to understand, knowing that at least some of the filth has been cleaned from England.”

 

All four of us bristled at the insult to Lily.  Typical Snape.  Always one to stab you directly in the front, blade shining as he twisted the shaft in your chest.  If he wanted to play this way, we would have to just hold ourselves back.

 

Snape continued, ignoring our reactions.  Directing his words to me, he remarked, “For as bright as your family is known to be, Potter, you run in very disadvantaged crowds.  This one,” nodding his head to Peter, “would need your permission to piss himself.  Does he have any value to offer you by way of friendship, or do you just thrive on the dotage of your peers?”

 

Shut your mouth, burn your bridges

Throw your words like an attack and stab me in the-

Wait a second.  Wait a second.  What’s that I just heard?

Never mind, it's obviously worthless.

 

A shudder ran through my body as I restrained the impulse to sock the sneer right off that mouth of his.  On instinct, my hand shot out to latch onto Sirius, who growled at Snape.  Peter was so shocked by this insult that he took one step back, now standing slightly behind Remus and myself.  “At least,” Sirius said gratingly, “we don’t need to pick on our lesser to make ourselves feel powerful.”  He cocked his head, seemingly thinking.  “On second thought,” he continued, voice lighter, “we do seem to get the better of you on a regular basis, now don’t we?”

 

Snape’s spine straightened abruptly, and his eyes glittered dangerously.  Instead of retorting, however, he simply turned to his company and noted, “These are some of the students from Hogwarts.  Gryffindors.  James Potter, of whom I’m sure you’ve heard.  Sirius Black, who has already displayed his horrifically immature character, who is the son of Hiram Black, who works in Magical Law Enforcement,” he added, causing the other three wizards to sharpen their gaze on Sirius, eyes hardened.  “Then we have Remus Lupin, of whom we still are not certain,” Snape said deliberately.  “He seems to be a normal wizard, but Lupin has many secrets which interest and endanger the populace at large.  On a similar note, I had a pleasant conversation with McNair recently, who has just been appointed head of the Magical Creatures Disposal Unit at the Ministry.  I had performed a favor for him, and we were discussing repayment.”  His acquaintances nodded, obviously familiar with McNair and seeing the comment as a sidebar.

 

Remus’s eyes widened, taking in the veiled threats Snape was tossing out.  I sucked in my breath, wondering frantically how close Snape was to the truth about Remus’s lycanthropy.  Sirius was now shaking slightly with the effort to restrain himself from jumping on Snape and pounding the living daylights out of him.

 

Again taking in our reactions without comment, Snape finished the introductions.  “And, lastly, we have Peter Pettigrew, the almost-Squib who has little use in this four-some but to ensure that these three pretty-boys have an avid audience at all times.”  He sneered openly at Peter, who gave a hmph! of outrage but stayed hidden behind me.  Then, as if this were a pleasant conversation, he turned to us, indicating each of his companions in turn.  “Mulciber, Wilkes, and Rosier.  Associates of my father, and good friends of mine.  We’ve been discussing my options out of Hogwarts, and had planned to iron out some of the details this afternoon.  And now, if you don’t mind, we’ll be continuing our discussion without your … entertaining presence.  Gentlemen?”  Here he motioned the three to precede him in walking into the pub.  Before disappearing into the darkness which seemed to emanate from the establishment, he turned around and gave us one last sneer.

 

We were still frozen in shock and rage, each of us wanting nothing more than to rend Snape limb from limb.  He had never been quite so openly hostile and condescending, and I contributed that in part to not being in Hogwarts and being outside of Dumbledore’s supervision. 

 

Turning around and walking down High Street, I found I’d lost my appetite for butterbeer, feeling that even that blissful drink couldn’t take the sour taste out of my mouth.   The other three seemed to agree, no one saying a word as we bypassed the restaurant to head back down the road around the lake to Hogwarts.

 

As we walked, each lost in our own thoughts, I contemplated what it was that made on a Slytherin.  The Sorting Hat always said something about “ambition” and “drive,” but I knew that I was ambitious, yet I was so unlike the rest of that House.  I thought about the many students I knew who were members of that House, and I thought especially about the traits which separated Snape from myself.  Thinking for a few moments, I came to the conclusion that it was about how one wanted to succeed, and not so much the success as the avenue to getting there.  I knew, for myself anyway, that I was raised to believe that all wizards were on equal footing, full-blood and Muggle-born, each had the same amount of magic.  My dad was a major proponent of equal rights for the Muggle-born wizards and witches, who were often discriminated against by those who, like me, had generations of Muggle-free blood to rely on.

 

I thought about Snape’s comments about Lily and about Peter, and thought that just being pure-blood as Peter was did not make him a spectacular wizard.  Even as I loved the guy, he had such problems with becoming an Animagus, and his skills in the classroom paled in comparison with anyone else’s, particularly Lily.  As a Muggle-born, she could best any pure-blood, myself included.  I needed no further evidence that blood history equated magical prowess.

 

The more I pondered, the simpler my argument became.  In the end, I figured that the difference between Slytherins and Gryffindors was all in whom they would fight to protect.  Gryffindors would always protect the one in trouble, he who couldn’t stand up for himself.  I knew that I would go to bat for Peter for anything, and that he would do the same for me.  It had little to do with who was stronger; it was about character.  Slytherins, from what I’d witnessed, did not even protect their own, slinging as many insults at each other as at the other Houses, though often not as barbed.  I found myself softening a bit, against my better judgment, thinking how lonely it must be for Snape.  I couldn’t imagine not knowing that three, no, make that four, people would be at my back if anything threatened.  To have enemies within the House as well as without the school…it had to be rough.

 

Didn’t make him any more likeable or any less of a git, however.

 

The thought occurred to me as to what Snape was actually doing in Hogsmeade.  Why would he be meeting with those men?  They obviously weren’t going to discuss Mrs. Snape’s cooking or how his family was doing, and the Hog’s Head was certainly no place for polite conversation.  A shudder ran down my spine as I thought again about the rise of the Dark Lord and how he was gathering followers around the Continent.  Not for the first or last time, I pondered the power he was raising both outside the school walls as well as within.  Snape’s House was beginning to be known for its association with Voldemort, and despite our rivalry, I hoped that a smart wizard like Snape wouldn’t be pulled into the fold of the Dark Lord.  God knew we could use his skills on our side.

 

So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

I'm gonna buy this place is what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

 

I shook myself from my thoughts, and realized we were near the Front Entrance of the School.  The sun was setting earlier this time of year, and was now falling through the sky toward the horizon.  It was only around 5pm, but my stomach informed me that it had not been filled for quite some time, and was eager for me to feed it.  Seeing the other three in similar states, Peter actually holding his stomach, we sped up and jogged to the door, Sirius winning, as usual.

 

I held the heavy door as the other three slipped inside.  I looked back toward the darkening path to Hogsmeade, thinking once more about this recent development.  The sun fell back behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest one final time, and as the twilight dimmed around Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, cold wind whipped through me, chilling me to the bone.  Even as I quickly shut the door and wrapped my cloak around me more firmly, I could still feel the cold, as if I would never again be fully warm.

 

~~~~~

 

A/N:  I hope you enjoyed this…remember this is really a continuation of the previous chapter.  I even expanded again over my outline, but I hope it’s the better for the additions.  Again, I apologize for the lack of fluff.  I needed to get some solid plot down before I lost my head totally to the romance gods.

 

Music this chapter was provided by The Juliana Theory, with their most magnificent track “If I Told You This Was Killing Me, Would You Stop?” on their Emotion LP, as well as Coldplay, with “A Rush of Blood to the Head” from their LP entitled A Rush of Blood to the Head.  Both bands recommended hugely, and with giant thumbs-up.

 

Thank you to all who have reviewed!

 

Things to look forward to (possibly):  James has some thinking to do before Lily comes back, the album must be assembled, and a meeting with Dumbledore must take place!  We might even see some MWPP action, who knows ;).

Please review and let me know what you think!