Chapter 39: What Once Was
"A Clear Midnight", by Walt Whitman.
...This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson
done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
It was two days until the set date for Dumbledore's funeral, which was to be held at Waterford cemetery, the very same cemetery in which former Minister Fudge had been buried. James finally decided that if he was going to try out the incantation, whatever it was for, he had better do it before it was time for the funeral, Harry's exams, and finally, leaving Hogwarts. At first he had been adamant about making the trip to Lupin and Lily's graves alone, but Harry had insisted he wanted to go along, having never before been to visit his where his mother was buried and needing somehow to do so. Finally, after much discussion, James had relented, leaving Harry slightly confused about why he had wanted so much to make the trip alone in the first place. In the end, Harry asked both Ron and Hermione if they wanted to come along as well, and after a lot of discussion in which Hermione initially felt Harry and James should go alone, they both decided to come.
The trip was taken by auto- an old, metallic brown Allegra Vanden Plas rented for the day from 'Magicars', a business in Hogsmeade where old cars left in Muggle junkyards had been rescued, magically repaired and kept for loaning out to wizards in need of mundane, non-suspicious transport.
James drove them from the edge of Hogsmeade and on through a couple of small towns running through the Scottish countryside; down long, narrow paved roads, and eventually, along winding roads that, for a time, ran round the jade green outskirts of the Forbidden Forest before heading toward the mountains.
They took a bend that passed them round the back of a part of the forest which looked to be full of large, sparsely-covered trees covered in new, light green growth. At once Harry knew he was staring at the back edge of the Forest of Kavan, magically growing double-time to make up for the years it had stood barren. He and Hermione smiled from the back seat, Ron in front with James, as they watched a couple of rabbits hop nervously back into the trees when they drove by. Even the animals were starting to return.
Harry sighed contentedly as he let down the window next to him for a touch of cool breeze. Hermione was plastered to him in the small back seat, her body planted firmly between his thighs and her head resting snugly under his chin. Her arse was pressing into that part of him he would rather keep calm at the moment; small wiggles and shifts to get comfortable from her exciting him to the point of embarrassment. And she knew what she was doing. To make matters worse, the wind kept blowing her bushy hair into his eyes and mouth, and each time he made to blink it away or spit a piece of it out of his mouth, her body shook against him with suppressed laughter. She made no attempt to move away and relieve him from her hair or her nicely shaped arse. Inbetween digging his fingers into her ribs as retribution and making her squirm, Harry decided that this was the most deliciously uncomfortable way to travel. Now that he could hold her close without the fear of what might happen next pounding at the back of his brain, he decided he would be taking every advantage to do so. Oh and how he had plans for later... It had been too long since he and Hermione had spent time together alone, truly happy and carefree without thoughts of dread piercing through every stolen moment. He planned on making the most of the couple of days they had left before exams and end of school.
Now though, as they drove along, Harry sobered; thinking to himself how stupid he was that he had never thought to ask where his mother and Remus Lupin were buried. Was he really that self-centred? Did he not care as much about them as he thought he did? As many times as he had thought of them throughout the years, especially when he had thought it was both his mother and father who had died, why had he had never asked to be taken to their graves?
The road continued to bend until it came to a straight line, where Harry could see up ahead in the distance, in the valley and at the foot of the nearest mountain, stood another village. The small shops and houses were all wooden and shaped as if they were taken straight from some old nineteenth century photo, but something about the derelict, unkempt way they stood, rickety and unused for some time made the place feel a bit off, as if it had been abandoned in a hurry one day and never returned to. He had turned to speak to Hermione in the instant they finally passed into the town, and both missed the small wooden sign that marked where they were until it had been passed by, too late to read. In the front seat, however, James had noted the name of the deserted place with a depressed, unhappy flop of his heart. They were passing through what was once a thriving little town, known as Godric's Hollow.
As the car puttered along through the abandoned town, Harry shifted Hermione sideways on his lap and, in whispers, discussed with her his fears about the reasons he had never visited his parents graves; Ron, with his seat adjusted back, snoring open-mouthed from the front as he had been for some time. She reasoned with him that he had been quite busy with other more pressing things to really think on it, and that maybe he had sub-consciously not been ready to face it. Harry nodded, sighing out a breath he had not known he was holding. He could only hope what she had said was the reason. Ever since he had seen his parents looking back at him from the Mirror of Erised so long ago, it had been his fondest pretend to imagine they were alive on some plane of reality and thinking about him, and he reckoned seeing their graves would splash a cold bit of truth on those thoughts. Still, he felt now he was ready. He had no choice in the matter at any rate. From the front, James had just announced in a rather small voice that they would be arriving at their destination soon.
Harry only then began to realise they had already passed through the main part of the tiny town, and were now travelling steadily up and round the mountain the town had rested near the bottom of. He was sure this mountain was the jagged purple one he had always seen from the castle, rising so starkly above the rest in the distance behind the Forbidden Forest. To think his mother and Remus Lupin's graves had always stood on this large rock, so close to where he went to school each year, made an odd shudder travel down his spine. It was not an eerie feeling, but more the sort one got when something significant had been forgotten, and Harry had the feeling it was a something his mind had deliberately not wanted him to remember. He grabbed Hermione's hand and instantly she held it tight, squeezing it comfortingly and gazing steadily on him.
"It's alright Harry," she whispered into his ear. "You're not alone."
A few minutes later James steered the car off of the main road they had been winding up and onto an off-shooting dirt road that seemed to run straight on and down from the mid-backside of the mountain. For a long while, the only thing obscuring Harry's vision of other mountains looming ahead was clouds of dirt billowing upward from the car and large quantities of ram-rod straight green mountain pines. However, as the road they had been travelling took a short bend, the view in front of him began to become sparser and sparser with trees until it expanded into a sunny, rolling, jewel-green valley; one covered in boulders and pastel-coloured mountain flowers which swayed as one in a gentle breeze.
Harry stiffened.
On his lap, Hermione gripped the car door and stared out the window, beaming, a warm breeze blowing her hair back from her face.
"Oh, Harry look; oh... it's so beautiful!"
In the front, James said nothing; his fingers as they gripped the steering wheel turning white at the knuckles.
Harry stayed mute as well, a lump swelling in his throat at the sight before him and a wave of strange nostalgia sweeping him over...
As the valley swept along beside the car, long buried flashes of a very short life with his parents flickered through his mind so quickly he was not sure it was not a product of his imagination.
His mother holding his small chubby hand and laughing as he stumbled along the green grass, ripping up unsuspecting little flowers as he went... the ground had looked so very close, covered in tiny criss-crossing roots...
For me? What a beautiful flower! Thank you, Harry!
His father, James, tall and messy-haired like his son was now, calling playfully for him as he, Harry, sat hidden in a large clump of grass, giggling; his grubby, little fingers grabbing at a cricket and stuffing it into his mouth...
Harry, I don't see you! Have you turned invisible?
Harry alternating walking and swinging between his parents as they held his small hands and helped him along; laughing as they swept him off his feet to launch upward, the blue sky overhead rushing at him...
You can fly, can't you? Only, you can fly without Daddy's broom! Aren't you clever? Here we go...
Harry's heart flipped over. Ahead and drawing closer as they neared, half-hidden in a small clump of trees that seemed to stand apart on their own and that formed a U-shaped hollow, stood an abandoned log cabin with a wooden swing set into the front porch, the wood greying and old from years of weathering.
Like ghosts from the past, more haunting images began to sweep in and out of his thoughts.
James and Lily sitting on the porch swing and rocking gently in the night, baby Harry in- between them... the swing had flipped over once on accident, they had all three fallen down...
Oh, Harry... are you alright? Don't cry honey, I'm not laughing at you...
Harry stumbling along the raised wooden porch after a small kitten and almost falling off the end if not for his father catching him just in time... He actually had done once; he had been quite accident prone, hadn't he?
Leave the kitty alone Harry, he doesn't want to fly...
Harry levitating his cat quite by accident and dropping it off the porch...
Songs sung gently into the night as the image of impossibly large trees and a soft moon blinked foggily in and out of his sight... Lily singing him to sleep as they sat on the porch to spend time alone with James...
Lullaby, and good night... so that Daddy and I can sno..og... James had chuckled.
Inside the cabin had felt warm and safe... Sights and smells permeated his thoughts...
Red and gold stars hanging above his crib, (he swatted at them with tiny hands)... The image of a patterned rug covered with magically flitting snitches lying on the sitting room floor; he had crawled about on it, playing, trying to catch snitches even then... Orange fire licking at logs in a large hearth as his father and mother sat on a deep red couch near him, talking...
Don't touch the fire, Harry! No,no... It burns!
Blue fire erupting from the Muggle gas stove Harry's mother had used to warm up his milk...
Don't touch the stove, Harry, it burns! Ouch! See?
Green fire blasting out from a long wooden stick, travelling toward who he had thought was his father...
Lily, take Harry and GO!
and then his mother...
No, mommy, daddy... don't touch the fire... it burns...
Their bodies crumpling to the floor, Harry staring at them from between the wooden bars of his crib, moonlight illuminating them in the darkness...
The same green fire travelling toward him like a jade lightning bolt... Fire burning his forehead, (he hadn't touched it, it had touched him! He had been a good boy, hadn't he?) Fire deflecting back from him and smashing back into the tall dark figure it had come from...
The figure shrieking and sweeping from the room like a living nightmare...
And his parents would not get up.
He was crying... screaming... he was reaching for them between the bars of his crib and still they would not move... Why wouldn't they get up and come to him?
Alone.
He was alone.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the cabin. Ron jerked awake and sat up straight, sputtering.
"What..wh... we're here? Where's here? What is this place, what... Wait... Hold on..."
He stared ahead at the grey cabin, looked over at James who sat very still, his face pale, and then twisted abruptly in his seat to stare at Harry, whose face was pressed into his hands, while Hermione, her arms wrapped tightly about his waist, murmured into his shoulder.
"It's where you lived, isn't it? It's where they w..were..." She paused and hugged him even tighter, her voice almost fierce. "You're not alone, Harry... Listen to me- you'll never be alone again."
In the front seat, with his head bowed low, his eyes closed, and his hands still gripping the steering wheel, James took a few moments to compose himself.
"I thought it might be here," said Ron very quietly, turning round to stare out the windshield once again. "I wasn't sure but I thought.. I thought it might be."
James nodded heavily, his voice coming out very gruff. "This was our home, right on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow... Lily and I moved here some two years before Harry was even born. We were hidden here, safe; for a time, anyway... This was our place."
He turned round in his seat to look at Harry, who had finally lowered his hands and was staring past James at the cabin.
"You remember some of this, don't you son," James stated more than asked.
Harry nodded as if he were in a trance. "Somehow... yeah, I do."
James nodded heavily and sighed. "I thought you might, even as young as you were. The mind has a way of bringing about memories you didn't even know existed, especially ones suppressed through trauma. It's why I didn't want you to come with me. I thought… I reckoned you'd been through enough."
Harry tore his eyes from the scene beyond the windshield to look at his father. "I needed to come. I need to see them."
"I know you do," James sighed and twisted so that he could reach a hand out and place it on his son's shoulder. "And so do I, incantation or no. I used to come here a lot but, well... it got too hard. I've avoided it long enough now, I think."
For a few moments they sat there, James mentally preparing himself to revisit the old place after many years, and Harry preparing himself to take it in for what seemed like the first time. After sitting immobile in the car for more than five minutes, they decided not to avoid it any longer.
The old porch creaked and groaned under their feet as James, Harry, Hermione and Ron moved to the door, James taking out a long skeleton key and jiggling it in the old rusty lock until he finally had to use his wand to unlock it.
"Alohomora."
The lock gave one solid, scraping click, and the door snicked open. James entered first, very slowly, with Harry close behind.
No one spoke a word as they surveyed the derelict place. It was as if they had entered some sacred haunt.
The main room was filtered through with dusty sunlight. The old red couch Harry had just seen in his thoughts lay on its back where it had fallen, covered in a thick layer of dust that did little to hide a few dark magical gashes marring the front. Ron moved forward wonderingly to finger the wand marks, feeling as if he was witnessing the ruins of something historical.
The rug Harry had played on as a baby lay sprawled unevenly and slightly bunched in front of the couch, as if someone had slipped on it while running. Dirty golden-coloured snitches still flitted about its ragged loops and snags, although now moving very slowly, bumping into each other and the rounded outside hem. The fireplace directly in front of the little sitting area lay cold and long unused, filled with old whitish-grey ash.
Harry moved forward to the mantle above it and ran a finger through a thick layer of undisturbed dust covering the wood.
He was the first to speak.
"No pictures?"
"You've seen them," said James, coming up behind him and watching Harry as he rubbed the dust between his fingers. "In my room at Hogwarts. They're the only things I took from this place after the… after it happened. Everything else is just as it was that night."
Harry turned round to look at him. "Why?"
Hermione and Ron were now peering down the short hallway round the corner of the fireplace.
James looked away from Harry, his eyes sweeping old Muggle paintings and pictures of relatives on the wall, familiar nooks and crannies, dusty toys of Harry's scattered about on the floor, in the same position they had been in the night of the attack, and the old dining room table and chairs which had been upended as well.
He sighed. "I don't think anyone could bear trying to clean it up."
Looking around at the place, a home which must be full of more memories than he would ever know, Harry at once understood.
Ron took a step backward and peered past James at Harry, looking very solemn.
"Mate, look here," he pointed forward, down the hallway to the part of the house they had not yet explored. "I think this must've been your old room."
Harry moved forward immediately, very aware of Ron's eyes on the back of his head as his friend followed him down the short, dusty hallway, past a room whose door was shut, past the loo, and finally, to the room at the very end of the hallway.
The heavy, wooden door to the old room, already ajar, creaked quietly as he pushed it open.
Hermione was already inside the tiny room, touching little things as she passed by. A wooden rocking chair, lying on its side where it had crashed down, sat near a small table with a very dusty lamp in the shape of a unicorn which had been left miraculously untouched. A baby's dressing table with a padded top covered in dusty little pastel moons and stars was against the immediate wall, with half a bag of unused diapers, an old yellowed, plastic baby bottle lying on its side, and a soft, folded Winnie-the-Pooh blanket lying on top.
Harry fingered the dirty blanket, curiosity stealing through a bit of the numbness that had filled him up since entering the cabin.
"Strange seeing something like that, isn't it?" James said quietly, picking up the blanket when Harry had done with it and holding it closely to his chest. "You'll find not everything here is representative of the magical world. Lily had a lot of Muggle tastes growing up as she did."
Harry nodded, watching Ron move over to finger torn, ash-smudged golden curtains hanging over the window directly behind his old crib, and Hermione, as she continued to move about, touching things in the small room as if they were sacred; ones that belonged to an innocent time... A little tote bag patterned with flying brooms and bludgers, a toy box painted over with what looked to be a scene from a book Harry had once read entitled 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe'... She moved over to the old wooden crib, fingering the plush red and gold toy stars that hung above it, and immediately after, found a long burned out gouge that had been cut into the wood of the railing, her eyes moving beyond it to the black-smudged curtains Ron stood near. She touched the wounded bit of wood, her fingertips coming back sooty, and turned wide eyes from Harry to James.
"Is… is this from…"
"I've only been inside this old place once since that night," said James quietly, his voice cracking. "Hagrid came and rescued Harry before... before I had even heard what happened." He moved forward beside Hermione to inspect the rough notch cut into his son's old crib, his fingers trembling as he touched the wood. "But yeah... I reckon this is from that night."
Hermione turned to look at Harry who stood rooted to the spot, staring at the old black scar in the wood.
"Harry..."
Had his mother been sitting in that old rocking chair, upending it in her haste to reach him after Lupin cried out for her to grab him up and go? Had he, Harry, been sitting just beyond the old railing of that crib, watching green fire travel toward him after it had killed his mother and father?
"Harry..."
His mother had obviously not even had time to pick him up before throwing herself in front of him... He could almost see the entire scene playing out before him, written in the old clues left behind… could almost hear his mother screaming again, the same he had done the day a Dementor had attacked him in third year on the train on the way to school, forcing him to relive not the sights, but the sounds of that night, which were almost worse by comparison…
"Harry."
Harry snapped back to the present and stared at the three surrounding him. Hermione, Ron, and his father were gazing at him with some concern.
James walked over to him and grabbed him gently round his forearm, steering him toward the door. "Let's get out of this old place."
They moved back down the hallway and into the main room again, this time taking a sharp right and veering into the kitchen where the old Muggle stove Harry had remembered stood coated in years of dust, with a pot sitting on the smallest burner, still waiting to be used. On the back wall was a glass-paned wooden door that led out to the backyard, and Harry realised this was where James was leading them.
A warm breeze lifted their hair and the loose ends of their clothes as Harry, Hermione and Ron followed James outside, and as Harry shut the door behind him, hearing it reverberate with a final sounding click, he felt a good bit of his sadness stay behind, locked away from him within the house. He would not be going back in, of that he was sure. He would be moving forward from now on.
Beyond the house they began to tromp through a tall, rolling field of grass tangled with purple heather, one that must have served as a sort of backyard but which had no boundaries to make it more than a very large field. Harry followed James, wading through it with Hermione and Ron following directly behind him, a light breeze lifting and swirling little dried heads of heather into the air so that they had to swipe purple petals away from their faces with every few steps.
In the distance Harry could see a large clump of pine trees that marked the beginnings of a tree line. Snaking out of the pines and to the left was a tiny mountain stream that bubbled down into a small clear pond, one he instantly had a flash of playing in with his father. It was this edging of trees he realised they were walking toward.
It was after trudging over the top of yet another small hill, when he saw two half-moon shaped bits of stone in the distance rising above the heather as they neared, that Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart feeling as if it had seized up in his chest.
James heard his son pause but continued walking on his own, having predicted his son's reaction but knowing that if he stopped as well he might never continue on again. He had visited Lily and Remus' graves on several occasions throughout the years, and each time it became harder and harder to return; the guilt of knowing he had left them to go information gathering the night they had died gnawing at his insides and refusing to let him go. Common sense, in a voice that sounded remarkably like Lily's, reminded him yet again that had he been there that night he probably would have died as well, but his conscience simply would not let him alone. His only consolation in not dying with his wife was the fact that Harry still had one living parent, and no matter how long it had taken for him to be able to act as such, in his heart, no matter how head accused him, he knew Lily would have wanted it that way. He only wished it had been he, James, who had died that night, and that Lily had been left for Harry. She had always been the better parent.
He reached the graves and stopped short, feeling his heart give a familiar painful lurch upon reading the etching on the simple granite headstones once again. His fingers itched to grab out the parchment Dumbledore had given Harry, read it aloud, and have done with whatever was supposed to happen, but he wanted Harry to have the chance to visit his mother's grave properly before they were done and would not hurry him along for anything.
It took a full five minutes for James to hear the shuffling of feet behind him that indicated Harry's friends had finally been able to make him move him forward. The three stopped behind him, as fully entranced in the scene before him as James himself was. Two simple, polished headstones stood gleaming in the last pastel beams of the afternoon sun, looking only slightly weather-worn.
| Lily Anne Evans-Potter 1960 - 1981 Beloved wife and mother. Died protecting her family. |
| James Alan Potter 1960 - 1981 Beloved husband and father Died protecting his family. |
Harry stood stock still, his hands jammed in his pockets. He wanted to move forward and touch his mother's grave, to somehow let her know he was there and he had not forgotten her, but his feet would not move him forward. However, to his surprise, the sharp pain he had expected upon seeing her grave for the first time turned out to be more like a dull ache. He had had a long time to come to grips with her death, and even though seeing where she was buried did drive the fact home even deeper, somehow, in his heart, he felt that it was only her body lying there in the dirt. It hurt to know she had died so young, without getting to live life, but Harry knew she was in a much better place now and that she would never experience pain or suffering again. She had died willingly. She had died to save him.
Harry looked at Hermione, down at their clasped hands... and understood.
For a few moments no one said anything, but being the sort he was, Ron was the first to break the silence. Somehow it was a welcome intrusion.
"Blimey," he whispered, somewhat awed. "I wouldn't like staring at my own grave, that's for sure- even if it wasn't really mine."
"Well, it's supposed to be my headstone; we had to put my name on," James explained unnecessarily. "Would have been a might suspicious to have Remus' name etched there, wouldn't it?"
Ron grunted. "Well all the same- it's eerie."
Harry looked up at his father. "And now that everything's over?"
James smiled sadly at him. "Now that I can finally come out in the open, I want Remus' name where it belongs. He never got the recognition he deserved for what he did because I've had to hide for so long. I reckon now it's time he did."
Hermione had the distinct feeling both James and Harry were relieved that Ron had broken the silence, so that they now both found it easier to speak. The seriousness of the moment was not lost on any of them, but Hermione felt neither Harry nor his father could have been the one to speak up first, and silently thanked Merlin for Ron's presence once again as she had so many times before.
James fished his wand out of his back pocket and waved it over the words carved into his own headstone.
"Exsculpo."
The etched stone behind the lettering seemed to move forward as if melting the letters forward and out of itself, finally leaving behind a smooth, unmarked surface.
Harry stared at where the words had just been, feeling oddly moved, as if seeing his father's name disappear from the stone made it all the more real that James was, indeed, standing there in front of him. It had almost been easy to slip into some strange, alternate way of thinking about it, what with his father continuing to look like Remus Lupin after the revelation that he was indeed James Potter. Somehow seeing that name erase from an actual headstone made it all the more real.
James stood beside the grave, held his wand out again and placed it against the cool stone as if he was preparing to carve.
"Inscriptum."
The tip of his wand at once began to glow a fiery blue, and as he traced it gently along the stone, words began to form after it as if grooving into the hard surface of their own accord.
Remus John Lupin
1960-1981
Beloved friend and colleague
Died while protecting his friends.
When he had done, Hermione moved forward and laid a light hand on James' arm. "It's fitting."
"Yes it is," he agreed quietly. He placed a hand on the headstone, swallowing hard. "I wish I could give you better thanks than mere words Remus, my old friend, but they're all I have... You deserve so much more, but... thank you for giving your life for my family."
They stood for a moment more, taking in the solemnity of the moment until James finally pulled out the parchment Dumbledore had given Harry for him.
"I reckon it's time we get this over with, miracle gift or no, aye?"
Harry nodded curtly.
"You three step back," James said, holding out his wand and pointing it at Lupin's grave. "We've no idea what will happen."
Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and moved back from James, Ron following, until they were standing on the last hill they had topped before seeing the graves, some ten metres away. Feeling slightly foolish but not completely trusting the contents of the parchment, Harry grabbed Hermione's waist and pushed her gently behind him.
She smiled a bit strangely up at him, but complied. "I'm sure it'll be alright, Harry. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have given you or your father anything that might prove dangerous-"
"Call it habit," said Harry, smiling ruefully down at her. "And we don't know what's about to happen, do we? It could be anything."
He glanced over to Ron, and saw he was frowning at him.
"What?"
"I don't notice you pushing me out of harm's way or anything."
Harry stared at him for a moment and then snorted derisively. "Sorry- does ickle Ronnie need protecting?"
At once, Hermione looked offended. "Oh, but ickle Hermy does, is that it? I reckon you two don't recall how far you would have got in any situation without me by your thick sides-"
They ignored her.
"Sod off," Ron scowled back at Harry over Hermione's head. "Who did Professor Trelawny divine was the defense part of our 'triangle', huh? It's the principle of the thing, Harry-"
"-never would have found a single clue if not for me setting you both on the right path all the time-"
"So, in 'principle' you want me to hold you until the danger's over, aye? Right then, come here-"
"OY! Gerroff me you giant pile of-"
"You can both get off me! Or haven't you noticed I'm standing right between you!?"
Harry grinned. "We've noticed."
"-only wish Lav was here, that'd be a right sandwich-"
"Ronald Weasley!"
"Alright, you three?" James threw back at them, waiting for their consent to begin.
Starting a bit, the three stopped bickering at once and looked over at James who was squinting over at them with a small smile on his face. For a very brief, very foolish moment, Harry had almost forgot where they were or what they were supposed to be doing. He stared down at the two gravestones and at his father, and realised that the heaviness that had settled on him moment they had arrived at this place was strangely less evident. He looked fondly over at Ron and Hermione who were both avoiding James' gaze and looking extremely sheepish, and a surge of happiness that he was still alive and present in the world began to run through Harry's veins like it never had before. He smiled thankfully down at his mother's grave, glanced gratefully at Ron and Hermione, and called out to his father.
"All set, dad. Sorry. Go ahead."
For a moment Hermione again glowered up at Harry, but forgave him at once as she watched James turned back round to face the graves. She grabbed onto Harry's hand, squeezing it very tightly. To his side, Harry could almost feel Ron stiffen with excitement.
Up ahead of them and still smiling despite himself, having been suddenly reminded of a very similar group of friends he had had not long ago, James took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He pointed his wand at Lupin's grave, steadied himself, and began to recite the words written on the parchment aloud.
"Pati vicis desino. Esti letum dissocio nost bicorpus, pati quondam eveni denuo. Pati adaeque natura nunquam transformis."
Nothing seemed to happen. No blue light issued from the tip of his wand.
The brook nearby continued to babble into the pond. Other than that, all was silent.
Seconds ticked by. James continued to clutch the parchment containing the incantation in one hand, while holding his wand aloft in the other, as if he was hoping the spell that was to issue from it might have somehow been delayed. A soft breeze continued to waft in from the north, again harvesting little purple petals from the surrounding heather and lifting them in the air in front of them. Still, no flash of blue light issued from the end of James' wand; nothing extraordinary happened at all save for the fact that a flock of birds perched in the nearest tree took wing and flew off.
Harry frowned. It was as if his father had not spoken a thing. He guessed he had expected some immediate rush of wind, a mad changing of the sky's colour, a life changing event...
James lowered his wand and turned his back on the graves, sighing.
"Well, Sybil did say it might not work, didn't she? Whatever it was- I don't reckon we should have got our hopes up-"
And a low rumbling from the ground answered James' words, sounding like a far off, but steadily approaching train. Harry felt the earth tremble beneath his feet, the swaying heather surrounding them all now rocking back and forth enough that even more soft dried heads of flowers popped free and whirled about in the air, thicker than ever. Abruptly he realised Ron and Hermione now had their wands out, their eyes instinctively sweeping the surrounding area as if waiting for some attack.
"What is this- some sort of earthquake!?" Ron said aloud, his fingers twitching nervously around the handle of his wand.
Hermione grabbed onto Harry's arm as a particularly hard tremble shook the ground. "At the same time Harry's father spoke the incantation? I doubt it..."
"What the bloody-" Harry's mouth gaped open and he pointed ahead at his father. "Look there."
James, seeing the sudden change of expression on his son's face, whipped about and stared at Remus Lupin's grave, his wand pointed again, prepared for any eventuality. A large fracture had started at the top of the headstone, cracking it's way down through the newly etched words on the polished front and continuing on in a lightning shaped pattern until it reached the ground. The dried earth began splitting as well, a gaping crack wending its crooked way forward from the headstone on until it had reached where James was standing. Then as abruptly as it had begun, the cracking stopped and the trembling earth was still again.
No one moved. All four were shocked into silence.
And suddenly, a blue glow began to shine upward from the crack beneath James' feet as if someone below had switched a light on; a soft humming emanating from the same source. His first instinct was to run away from it, but something about the warm way it shone kept James rooted to the spot. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, Dumbledore had wanted him to experience it, and he knew the old man would never have given him anything harmful.
A soft, whitish dust began to rise from the crack, glowing a hazy blue in the light, and lifting lazily upward until it had reached about the height of James' head. He watched it with wide eyes as it drifted forward and began to envelope him in slow rotating circles, allowing it to swallow him whole; a tingling such as he had never felt before prickling all over his body like thousands of tiny needles.
At once Harry made to rush forward but a restraining hand from Hermione stopped him.
"Wait. Wait, Harry. Look what's happening. He's still standing; he's not being hurt..."
Harry's vision of his father quickly became completely obscured by the large amount of glowing dust that swirled about him, almost looking as if some new magical tornado had swooped down to envelope James alone. With each passing moment it swirled faster and faster, the tiny particles becoming a blur and the slight humming coming from the grave sounding louder and louder with each rotation. The blue was becoming brighter, the soft azure now mixing with what looked like a brilliant yellow, one so vivid it made Harry's eyes water. He could not see his father at all, but the fact he was still standing in the middle of the dual-blue coloured whirlwind must mean, like Hermione had said, that he was not being harmed.
The tornado began to slow, though just a bit. The multicoloured dust now seemed to be separating according to colour, the yellow particles now sweeping outward and downward, and disappearing through the crack over Lupin's grave in a rush of bright colour. The blue particles remained, swirling slower and slower with each rotation.
The large crack that had ended at James' feet began to re-seal itself, the earth sewing itself back together until even the defaced stone of Lupin's grave melted back together again, making it look as if it had never been damaged. The humming continued.
Harry could now see through the lazily swirling particles surrounding his father. He could see his form, the back of his head, though... Something was off. He seemed just a bit taller. The straight, light brown hair he had come to associate with Remus Lupin, and then his father, was not straight or brown at all. Instead it had become a bit longer, thicker, and very untidy, with streaks of grey marring its otherwise coal black colour, one piece sticking straight up at the back exactly how Harry's own did...
Harry jerked backward involuntarily, his eyes widening. Hermione stood very still.
Ron looked from James' form ahead and back to Harry, his voice coming out in almost a reverent whisper. "Bloody hell."
The azure blue was absorbing into James' body. The particles were lighting on his skin, melting inward, and for a moment it looked as if Harry's own father was glowing, until the light began to fade. Quite abruptly the strange humming sound snapped out of existance, and there was no light left at all save the last orange and pink beams of the afternoon sun.
All was silent.
James whipped around but did not look at the three on the hill. He was looking downward at his hands, ones which were suddenly different, a bit more olive in skin tone, and devoid of the many scars he had acquired on nights he had not taken his wolfsbane potion, though upon turning his right one over he saw a long faded scar running the length of his palm...
Sirius and I... our blood pact...
He yanked up one of his sleeves and stared down at his arm. The scar Lucius Malfoy had given him at Hogwarts on the night he had attacked him and stolen some of his blood was gone. He reached inside his shirt and ran a hand across his chest and stomach. Ridged scars that should have been there from the night four years ago that he and Sirius had fought as werewolf and animagus were gone as well, though one odd scar remained on his chest, in the exact same spot he remembered being gashed by a rock in sixth year, having taken a nasty fall from his broom during a particularly rough Quidditch game... Very slowly, his hands strayed up to his face. Remus Lupin's nose had had a very small bump in the middle of it. His nose however, now felt smooth, though a bit longer. No more long-ago healed gashes marred his face. His eyebrows felt different, his lips a bit fuller... A shock wave of realisation rattled through him. He looked up suddenly to see his son staring at him, Harry's hands shakily probing his own face as if verifying that an older version of himself was indeed standing before him, but with, as Harry had thought during his fifth year upon seeing his father in Snape's pensieve, 'deliberate mistakes'.
Hermione and Ron were staring down at James, completely transfixed.
With one long look at the three James whipped about and took off at a run, headed toward the pond he and Harry had played in so long ago.
With only a moments hesitation, Harry took off after him, Hermione and Ron following.
When the three reached him, out of breath, he was already on his knees and bent very closely over the water's edge, staring at his own wavering reflection and fingering his face with awe.
"My god... my god is this real?... How in Godric's name did he... Oh my god... I'm not a werewolf... I'm not a werewolf any more! I'll never be one again! I'll never have to take wolfsbane again!" He laughed aloud, and then sobered again just as quickly, still staring at his reflection in the water, touching his nose, his eyes... "But how can I look how I should now? Twenty one years old... My body was twenty one when Remus took it with him... but I'm not... I'm me... I'm me how I should look now..."
Harry stood back further than them all, not speaking.
Hermione moved forward and bent down to snatch the forgotten piece of parchment from the ground where James had dropped it, her eyes eagerly scanning over the words. Her mouth dropped open. "The ending here- Pati adaeque natura nunquam transformis. It means 'may it be as if the natural was never altered'." She stared at the back of James head, her face set with wonder. "So the incantation didn't actually switch you back, per se, it simply made it as if you'd never switched in the first place."
James stood up, his face still set with awe. "But if the incantation made it as if we had never switched, then it would've been me who really died that night, and not Remus-"
"No one can come back from the dead," Hermione interjected quickly, her face set with awe upon seeing how much Harry resembled James. "Besides, I don't think the spell could change those events of the past which were normal or natural. I don't think there's any spell or magical object that powerful save the time turner, and even then the user has to be the one who changes things. I think it was just able to correct certain aspects of the past which weren't 'of nature', or 'natural' in the first place, like your switched bodies. You were born with the body you're in now... Remus Lupin was born with the other. And the spell did use the word 'natural', as in, 'make it as if the natural was never altered'. It never said, change the past. It's simple really-"
"Simple... sure," said Ron, his gaze switching from Harry to James and back again. He looked over at Hermione. "And once again we're reminded you're probably the only swot in school who's studied Latin."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Ron. I know for a fact Ravenclaw has a whole Latin club. And if I hadn't studied up on it, you and Harry would still be stuck back wondering over Professor Trelawny's predictions this year."
"We'd have figured them out eventually; that's what books are for," scowled Ron.
"As if you've ever actually used those," Hermione responded scathingly, her eyes back on the parchment.
"Oy!" Said Harry in a mock-offended voice.
Ron glared at her. "We have actually, when you were taken last year. 'Course who needs to worry about books when you've got a walking, talking library by your side every second of the day."
"That's true you know," said Harry.
Hermione looked up from the incantation, her eyes flashing. "And like I've said before, if I wasn't by your thick sides every single step of the way these past seven years, you two would've accomplished exactly nothing-"
"Ho, ho!" Ron stepped back and jabbed a finger in her direction. "I reckon you don't recall being petrified by the basilisk during second year, then! Harry and I worked out where Ginny had been taken all on our own, didn't we?! Harry fought Voldemort all on his own! You were nowhere near-"
"That was one time! And Harry found that piece of parchment in my hand, remember? I was the one who figured out the basilisk was getting round school through the pipes. You'd have never known to go looking in Moaning Myrtle's loo for the entrance to the chamber if not for me. Anyway, this is ridiculous-"
"Don't forget fourth year," Harry said quickly. "Neither of you were with me for that one."
"That's right!" Ron seized on it and whirled back on Hermione. "Harry was on his own then too, miss 'you two are too thick to ever get along without me'. How do you explain that-"
"-hardly the point, Ronald. We weren't trying to figure something out then, were we? Harry touched a portkey. He was transported away. It wasn't as if there was some mystery involved we were trying to solve-"
"Exactly," said Ron, triumphantly. "You've just made my point. Unless there's some mystery to solve, Harry and I do just fine without you. The end. Now-"
"Well actually it was Hermione and I who went back in time third year to save Sirius," said Harry. "You were in hospital with your leg bandaged, Ron."
"I rather think you've all had a hand in helping-" began James in a placating voice, but Harry shook his head side to side just a fraction, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"That's right!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly, whirling on Ron, anything James had said already lost in the excitement of the argument. "And that time there was little to no mystery to solve! We already knew what was going to happen, and Professor Dumbledore sent Harry and I to save Buckbeak and Sirius-"
"Right.. that's right," said Harry, moving slowly over toward his father.
Ron scoffed at her. "That time was only because I was hurt and couldn't go in your place."
"How do you get you would have been chosen to go in my place!?" Hermione demanded, sounding stung. "There were several times when Harry wanted to jump out of hiding and do something rash, and it was only me who let him in on what a bad idea it was! Professor Dumbledore knew I would understand the importance of not being seen-"
"-and that was only because you'd already been using the time turner all year, and he'd told you what might happen if you-"
"-and if you'd been there with Harry, I've no doubt you would've both been seen and given away everything, which would've been disastrous-"
"Oy! You've no way of knowing that! And wasn't it me who led you two under the Whomping Willow in the first place? You would've never known Sirius wasn't a murderer if you hadn't followed me down there."
"He did, that's right," Harry interjected. Hermione glared at him. He threw up his hands in surrender. She turned back on Ron.
"Followed you down there!? You were dragged down there Ronald, if you'll recall, and Sirius was the one who dragged you! Harry and I followed you down there to get you away from the 'grim'!"
"We found Peter Pettigrew, didn't we? And who made that happen? Me!"
"You didn't make it happen, you git! Has your brain gone soft!? It was Sirius who figured out Scabbers was really Pettigrew! He's the one who changed him back over to a wizard, you didn't want him touched! And all because you didn't realise your rat was an Animagus! Honestly, a twelve year old rat, Ron!"
"He wasn't an ordinary rat, Hermione-"
"He wasn't," Harry agreed, edging away.
"That's right, he was an animagus for Godric's sake!"
"True," said Harry.
"You didn't know he was, either!"
"I didn't live with him practically my whole life either, did I!? You, however, did!"
"True again-"
"You tell me how I was supposed to know my rat was some dark servant of-"
His hands jammed in his pockets and smiling slightly to himself, Harry moved slowly away from the two and left them to their bickering, feeling slightly more sorry for Ron than he did for Hermione. He reached his father and motioned with his head for them to walk away. Neither Hermione nor Ron noticed.
Once they had got far enough around the small pond that Hermione and Ron's bickering was nothing but muted background noise, James spoke up, barely suppressing a grin.
"Well, that wasn't very nice of you."
Harry still had not brought himself to look his father properly in the face. He stared at the ground as they walked, smirking. "Maybe not. But if ever I want them distracted for a bit, the easiest thing to do is help them along with their arguing."
"Not get them arguing?"
"They don't need help with that," said Harry. "I just sometimes keep it going, is all." He grinned, cheshire-like. "And to think there were some in school who thought those two would start dating."
James looked over toward Ron and Hermione, who were still shouting at one another round the bend of the lake. "Those two? They remind me of how Sirius and Lily used to argue. They'd kill each other."
"I know," said Harry, smiling.
"Besides," said James, looking back at Harry. "From what I've seen, Hermione loves you more than life itself. I think I've known it ever since I saw you two in your third year, young as you were."
Harry shuffled his feet for a moment, his cheeks growing warm. "I know. I feel the same way."
James smiled at him for a moment, until his expression grew a bit more solemn. "Harry, please look at me, son."
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked up at his father. Even as they were when he had seen James in Snape's pensieve in fifth year, he and his father were still within an inch of each other's heights. James looked so much like Harry himself, only a bit different and obviously older, that Harry felt as if he were staring into some slightly skewed funhouse mirror.
"It's almost too eerie for me," said James, feeling a bit awkward. "I can only imagine how it must be for you. Thinking all those years I was dead, only to find I'd switched bodies with Remus, and now... Well now, I'm here... I'm alive... and I'm how I should look as if none of it had ever happened."
Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. With Hermione and Ron by his side he was sheltered a bit from his true feelings. Now, facing them without distractions, he felt odd... almost displaced from reality... He was standing near the place where it had all happened, not twenty yards from where his mother, and who he had thought was his father, were buried. Yet here he was staring at his father, who had revealed not long ago that he was, in fact, not dead but trapped in a friend's body, and who now, suddenly, was no longer trapped in said body but was back in his own, looking as if he had never left it in the first place or that it had died at twenty one.
These things were strange, hard things to grasp at best, it was true, and yet they were not the oddest thing he was encountering or feeling. The strangest thing of all was the decrease of pounding anxiety and worry within him, two things which had been such a regular part of his very being for as long as he could remember that they had almost seemed part of what made Harry, well... Harry. Now everything was different. Now, Voldemort was dead. The war was over. He, Hermione, Ron, Sirius and his father had all made it out alive, (though Dumbledore had not). He was almost done with school. He did not have to live with the Dursleys ever again. He was free from almost everything that had caused him distress and anxiety for his entire seventeen years of existence. However, by no means did he think everything was suddenly better. He knew that. He understood that he would probably be scarred for a very long time, if not forever, over what had transpired during his short life thus far, though somehow, now he felt as if now some chapter had ended in the book of his life and he was inexplicably starting over, as if his life was split into different sections and he was now on volume two.
"Almost makes you feel as if you've travelled to some alternate universe where things never went wrong, but you've still got the scars from when they did, aye?" Said James.
Harry had to admit this was exactly how he felt.
"Yeah... yeah it does."
"I feel the same way," said James, shoving his hands into his pockets. He paused before speaking again. "You know, this is exactly why your mother did what she did for you... why she gave her life for you... the hope that someday you would be able to live happy. We used to sit up at night and talk for hours about what we hoped you'd become when you were grown... what sort of life you'd lead. We knew you were destined to be great... I think everyone did, even before Voldemort gave you that scar," he paused again, looking sad. "But Harry, we never knew what you would have to go through to achieve that greatness, what you would have to sacrifice, or what we would. Neither one of us wanted you to live this horror you've known as a 'life'-"
"It's not your fault. I don't blame you," said Harry quickly, looking concerned. "At least I don't... I mean, I'm not... Gods, if mum hadn't done what she did I wouldn't be alive at all... I'd never have the chance to really live, even if it did take up to now to be able to do it."
James nodded. "She knew the protection she was giving you; make no mistake. She was as bright as your Hermione over there," he said, smiling and pointing over to Ron and Hermione, who were now both staring over to where Harry and his father were, Hermione with her hands on her hips, looking disapproving as if she now knew what Harry had done. James smiled and turned back to his son. "Your mother gave her life for you so you could have one of your own."
Harry nodded, staring at the ground. "I know that... I know."
James stared at him. "Then I hope you know she'd do it again if she had to... and if given the chance, so would I. Your mother did what she did because she loved you, and so do I, and not because you've somehow earned it, but because you're my son. You won't ever have to worry about earning my love, Harry, or trying to deserve it. You've got it no matter what you do. Even if you didn't return it, it wouldn't matter. You didn't grow up that way, I know, and I know it's hard for you to take in, but Harry... this is how parents, real parents, feel for their children. This is how I feel for you. This is how your mother felt for you; how she still feels for you wherever she is. Don't you ever feel guilty for what your mother did. She gave herself willingly because she loved you, and if I'd been there that night, and I wish I had, I would've done the same thing... for her, and for you."
Harry nodded, his eyes still scanning the ground, though they were rimmed with tears.
James decided in an instant not to make his son any more uncomfortable and hitched a small smile on his face.
"And I hope you know I'm still me, after all this. Strange as this is, I haven't changed, I'm still the person you knew in Remus Lupin's body. I'm not someone you haven't met before because I look different. I understand this makes things really strange, but I think I understand why Dumbledore gave this to me, and I think it goes beyond my no longer having to worry about the full moon."
Harry smiled at that and squinted up at his father, feeling slightly ashamed of the tears drying on his face. "What d'you think, then?"
James sighed. "It just connects us even more, doesn't it? I mean, there's no mistaking you're my son or I'm your father, now. I think maybe the old man thought this might bring us even closer together, or somehow help you along with the fact that I am really your dad," and suddenly, James sobered a bit. "But I'm not trying to push you son. I'm not trying to make you feel that we have to be close all of a sudden-"
"I don't think that," said Harry with a slight smile. "But I do think you're right. I think that's exactly something he would've done."
Harry shoved his hands tightly in his pockets and stared out at the pond, shifting from one foot to the other, and completely unaware of the fact that his father and he had taken the same protective stance in their discomfort and were now looking more like each other than ever. A soft wind from the north breezed in again, making the early evening's chill evident and rustling the nearby pines. Tall patches of heather swayed around the pond, the water along its edge rippling slightly in the wind. The last bright rim of the sun sank below the horizon, it's pinkish orange beams now blending with a dusky purple, and outlining the sky in a darker shade.
An awkward silence had fallen between Harry and his father, neither quite sure how to break it, though this time it was Harry who finally did, squinting a bit reservedly over at his father as he spoke.
"I'll bet you are chuffed not having to worry about the full moon any more though, aye?"
James smirked, seizing on the conversation. "What's even better is not having to go to old Snivellus for my potions any more."
Harry grinned at the thought of how Snape would react upon catching sight of a 'renewed' James, most of his awkwardness fading with the prospect of sharing abuse of the Potion's Master. "Merlin, this'll ruin his weekend. I can't wait to see his face now you're back properly... And I'll bet he's loved having you owe him for brewing up your wolfsbane-"
"Oh yeah... Yeah, this'll be a black day for Snivellus," said James, chuckling at the look of wicked depravity on his son's face. "Just wait until he catches sight of Sirius and I standing together, just like old times..."
Harry's grin faded slightly. "Like old times?"
"Oh, we won't take the piss out of him like before," said James, his eyes happily gleaming with a far away look. "You've got to understand we were only fifteen then, and Snape gave as good as he got, Harry. Besides, you only got to see one biased side of it from that pensieve. I've no doubt he chose to forget the many times he deserved what he got. But no... No, adult forms of torture call for a bit more subtlety-"
Harry frowned. "Just exactly what do you mean by torture?"
James snapped back to the present and grinned wickedly at Harry. "There are much subtler ways of fixing a person than showing off their greying knickers, Harry. But no worries; Sirius and I've no intention of reverting to cruelty, I assure you... there's just a bit of overdue payback in order. Anyway, I rather think you should be worrying about that girlfriend of yours over there. She looks a bit miffed if you ask me."
Harry turned to look at Hermione, who was still staring over at him with her lips tightly pursed and her arms wound tightly over her chest, tapping her foot.
Harry chuckled. James clapped him firmly on the back as they began their ways back around the pond toward them.
"Just turn on the Potter charm, son- that'll sort her out."
Harry snorted at him. "It's obvious you don't know Hermione very well."
"No, I don't," said James, smiling, "not yet. But I've got the rest of my life to learn all about her now, don't I? About you too... And I've got a load of people to thank for that, I'd say."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."
The closer to Hermione he got, the more her expression made Harry wince. Even Ron was standing back a bit, though he looked amused.
Once they got within hearing distance, Hermione dropped her arms, one eyebrow raised and began to stomp toward him.
"Harry James Potter-"
Harry inhaled deeply. "Look, Hermione... I just wanted to speak to Dad alone-"
"No excuse to keep Ron and I fighting so you could sneak off with him! You could've just said something, you know. It isn't as if we'd have stopped you, for Merlin's sake!"
"This was the most effective way," said Harry, grinning, knowing full well that would set her off. He pinched one of her reddening cheeks.
Hermione scowled at him and slapped his hand away. "I'll show you effective-"
James, standing beside Ron, gave the younger man a nudge. "So much like Lily it's downright frightening."
Ron goggled disbelievingly at him. "Then I honestly don't know how you did it."
James laughed aloud. "Eh... It's all in whether you're right for each other. I can see pretty clearly those two are. They'll sort it out."
"Oh, I know they'll sort it out," said Ron, his gaze landing back on them again, watching Harry grin as Hermione ranted. "He's the only one who really knows how to handle her."
"And she him?" Asked James. "I've no doubt Harry can be a handful, if he's as hotheaded as I was at his age."
"Oh yeah," said Ron, his head moving back and forth between Harry and Hermione as if watching a particularly entertaining tennis match. "Harry's a 'heat of the moment' sort of person, you know. Ready to jump and run with the first bit of information we get. I suppose I'm the same way... Anyway, Hermione sort of calms him long enough to sort things out properly before we run off. I've no doubt we would've been killed on half the things we blundered through if it weren't for her."
James looked at him. "I don't suppose you could've acknowledged that to her. Might've spared you a fight today if you'd only told her-"
"Hell no," Ron grinned, laughing aloud as Hermione wagged her finger in Harry's face. "No, I rather enjoy it. She's too fun when you've got her all pissed off. She gets angry about it but secretly she likes it too. It's more fun fighting with her than it is Ginny... Well... Ginny would hit me, but you know... It's all relative."
James snorted at that. "Well, I think we should head toward the car, don't you?"
Ron frowned and gestured toward Harry and Hermione. "But shouldn't we..."
"No," smiled James. "No, we'll let them figure it out on their own. Besides, Harry looks as if he's having too much fun to spoil it. You head on to the car, I'll be there in a tic."
Ron agreed and began tromping back across the field toward the car. James headed over to Remus and Lily's graves and stood staring at them for a moment. He walked behind Lily's and brushed a hand over the headstone before moving around it, his eyes briefly landing on his son and Hermione, who were standing some yards away, still engrossed in their 'discussion'. He walked around the graves to stand in front of Lily's.
"I miss you love, more than you'll ever know... I wish you were here." He turned to glance at Harry. "But look what you've done for your son. He's still here. He's come over the hump and onto the other side. He's in love and he's happy, Lily. You did that." He sighed, the words forming a lump in his throat and knelt down before the headstone, his head bowed. "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you that night, love. Never... But I promise you I'll never leave our son again. I'll love him and be here for him as long as he'll let me. I swear it, Lily... I swear it... and... and I hope you're happy wherever you are. I hope you're filled with joy over seeing your son alive and set to live his life, the way you always wanted him to."
James stood, and this time, he looked up to the sky.
"I'll always miss you..." he smiled. "Someday Lily... someday you're going to turn around and there I'll be, standing right in front of you as if we'd never been apart... Wait for me, will you?"
The breeze picked up again. A silvery moon danced out from behind purple edged clouds, illuminating the area around him in patches and taking special care to shine down over the gravestones James stood near. He smiled.
"I'll take that as a yes."
For a moment he continued to look up at the sky, imagining Lily was looking down on him with a smile. With tears welling in his eyes he moved away from the graves, walked a wide circle around Harry and Hermione so they would not see him, and made his way back across the field.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hermione-"
"I simply can't believe you, Harry. You know how much I hate to argue-"
"You!?" said Harry incredulously. "I think you draw energy from it-"
"What!? What an awful thing to say!" Hermione blustered. "As if I I'd rather disagree with someone than have a pleasant conversation with-"
"Let me finish," said Harry, popping his hand over her mouth and chuckling as she continued to mumble beneath it. "And... I think it's one of the cutest things about you. It's one of the many reasons I love you... simply because you're you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Hermione's mouth stopped moving beneath his hand. She placed her hands on her hips as he moved his hand away, narrowing her eyes up at him as if scrutinising him.
"I hope you know this doesn't mean you're let off the hook..."
" 'Course not," said Harry, snaking his arms around her waist.
"Because I recognise a smooth line when it's thrown at me-"
" 'Course you do," said Harry, drawing her body flush against his, his face inching closer to hers.
"And if I wanted to," said Hermione, a bit more breathlessly, "I could... I could be angry with you for the rest of the night. You'd certainly deserve it, wouldn't you?"
"Absolutely," said Harry, his lips only a centimetre from hers. His eyes moved up to her own; glinting green on dark brown. "So why don't you?"
"Because... because in principle it wouldn't be right to kiss you now," she said, her lips brushing his, light as a breeze. "And I really want to."
"In principle..." Harry grinned and nodded. "That's right." He moved to crush his lips to hers but Hermione suddenly pulled back, looking round them.
"But we can't!" She hissed, staring back at Harry. "Ron and your dad-"
"Left us alone a few minutes ago," said Harry with a bit of frustration, pulling her back against him again.
"Left us alone... where did they go? We should probably-"
"I'm sure they went back to the car to wait for us," said Harry, moving so that his lips now brushed her ear. He felt her melt against him and smiled. "Do you know how long I've wanted to be able to kiss you without a load of worry clouding my mind?"
Hermione smiled up at the sky. "How long?"
Harry moved his lips nearer hers so that he now spoke against her mouth. "Forever."
"Me too," said Hermione, and she let him claim her mouth.
Oh gods, but that one act was going to be his undoing, Harry thought to himself. The feel of Hermione's soft lips beneath his was intoxicating, her wild hair brushing against his cheek, her hands roaming over the hard plains of his back, her firm breasts pressed against his chest, shapely belly pressed intimately against his hips... It had been so long since they had been able to share a proper kiss; since they had been able to share almost anything...
His tongue was dipping and sliding so sensuously against her own, his body pressed so deliciously into hers, that Hermione felt she might spontaneously combust right there, under the moon and stars with only Harry as her witness. His mouth was like a drug, leaving her feeling fuzzy round the edges and wanting more. It was exhilarating to know there was now nothing holding them back from truly loving each other the way they wanted, to know that all of the obstacles which had kept them so filled with anxiety and unsure of their futures were gone... and yet, something very real told Hermione this was not the time or place to let go with Harry. She pulled back from him.
"Harry..."
Harry barely heard her, deciding at once to let his lips trail from her lips to her cheek and over to her ear, sucking the soft lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the shell, his hands smoothing lower over her back to land on her rear, gently squeezing, pulling her closer to him, gently grinding his hips into hers...
Hermione swayed into him, and then found herself again.
"Harry... wait, Harry..."
He whispered into her ear, his breath on her sensitive shell making her shiver.
"What?"
Hermione found the strength to pull out of his embrace long enough to compose her thoughts.
"Look where we are."
Harry stared at her for a moment, and then began to understand what she was eluding to.
"I'm alright though. I don't need to... I mean.. I mean I'm coming to terms with it-"
"But you've never talked with her, love. You need to talk with her before we leave," said Hermione gently. She moved closer and placed a hand on Harry's cheek. "You need time alone with her, Harry... time alone here."
Harry opened his mouth to tell Hermione that his mother was not there in the ground... that it was only her body under the headstone... that he had always felt that to talk with her, all he needed to do was look to the sky, and that he did not have to be here in this old haunt to be with her... but somehow, the words did not come. He stared at Hermione, bathed by the white-silver of the moon, stared at the gravestones that he had never visited before, and knew she was right. He would not be coming back here again. Tonight, he would be leaving behind the physical things that represented his old life. He needed to say goodbye to all of it... He needed to say goodbye to the ghost of what had been, and the spectre of what he had always wished had been. He needed it to be able to move on.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed the hand Hermione had placed on his cheek, turning it over to kiss the palm.
"I know."
Hermione smiled at him. She pulled him forward into a brief kiss again, and then looked up into his eyes.
"I'll be waiting for you just over the hill, alright?"
Harry nodded and watched her walk away until the rolling hills obscured her from his vision.
He turned toward his mother and Remus Lupin's graves and crammed his hands into his pockets, stubbing the toe of his shoe along the ground. What could he say that would ever be good enough? What sentiment could he share with his mother that would ever compare with what she had done for him? Harry felt inadequate to talk with her, almost stupid for thinking to thank her. How could he properly thank his mother for giving her life for him? What words could he express to make her understand that he knew how much she had sacrificed? How could he ever tell her what she had done for him, when he himself did not understand and could not comprehend the sort of love she had had for him? The sort of love that feels anything is worth sacrificing if only to keep the other happy and safe? The sort that thought so much of the other, that death was preferable to keep the other from being hurt?
And then Harry thought of Hermione. He thought of how he had not thought twice about sacrificing himself for her when Voldemort had threatened to kill her if Harry did not come to meet him alone.
He began to understand. It was not the head that loved, with rationalisations and thoughts of one's own self, it was the heart. With a start, he realised that his heart had become so full of Hermione that it left no room for his own self interest. It was this that helped him understand his mother's sacrifice. It was this that enabled him to speak with her.
"I love you, mum. I always will... I don't know what to say but thank you," His throat constricted. Harry swallowed hard, shifting from one foot to the other and feeling that his mother was there somehow, watching him and listening. "I hope I've made you proud... I hope I've never taken your love or your sacrifice for granted or ever made it seem that way. I hope... I hope I've turned out the way you wanted me to... at least, well..." He paused, his mouth working. "I mean I know parents want things for their children and I... I hope I've not disappointed you. I hope I never disappoint you, mum. I want to make you proud. I want to... I want to live happy now. I want to put things behind me and move forward..." Harry then looked up at his mother's headstone and added very quickly, "But not because I want to forget you! I never... I couldn't ever forget you, I just... I just want.. to be able to... Now that Voldemort is gone I want to live happy, not just for me, but for you too. I know it's what you wanted; dad told me. He said it's what you two always talked about... So I want to do it for you, too. I'm going to work hard to put it all behind me, I promise, mum. I hope... I hope you believe me. I hope you know I love you, even though I didn't get the chance to know you. Dad says you're so much like Hermione it's frightening," Harry smiled. "If that's true then I feel like I do know you... And I feel like you know her. I love her, mum. I'm going to marry her. And it makes me happy to know I'm marrying someone who is so much like you. I know you would like her. I wish you could've met her, but... but somehow I know you see us, and I've got a feeling you would approve."
Harry moved forward to smooth his hand over the rounded part of the headstone, his chest tight with emotion.
"I... I don't know what else to say, except, I love you." He looked up to the sky, the moon full and outlining the clouds in a dark blue. "I'll always wish you were here... but I know you're up there watching us... me and dad... and I'll never forget you mum. Never. And someday I'll meet you, I know it... Will you watch for me?"
The breeze picked up. Bunches of heather swayed as one entity, their bodies bending to the night and brushing softly against Harry's legs. Pine trees clapped tiny needle hands, bows raising toward the sky as if lifting Harry's words to heaven for him. The moon smiled at him from above, her light bright and unfading.
Harry smiled back. "I'll take that as a yes."
With that, he leaned down, kissed the top of his mother's headstone, and turned to make his way back toward the car.
**********************************************************
A/N: Well I think you all probably want to kill me for the long wait. I don't blame you. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope I incorporated relief, sadness, nostalgia, happiness and humour in it well enough that you see what this chapter was about, and why it was so hard to write! I hope you aren't too angry with me... go easy on me about the long wait, please! Lol. And as always, let me know what you think.
Also want to let you guys know what the incantation James spoke means. Very loosely, it means, "Allow the switch (interchange) to end. Even though (notwithstanding) death divide our bodies, allow what once was (the former), to be so (occur), again (anew). May (allow) it be as if (like) the natural was never altered.)" Of course this is not perfect Latin or sentence structure, mind you, because I don't know Latin and got this off of a website.
OH! And I dedicate this chapter to Kiki, aka Kikilovesyou, and Sean, aka Syustat, who've been such faithful, wonderful, insightful, detailed, and persistent(!) reviewers that I wanted to give a shout out to them. Thanks you guys!