Tattered and Torn

Lily met her eyes in the mirror as she combed her hair, just like she did every morning. And like every morning, she repeated the litany of her heart to her reflection. "You are not what you appear. You are black and rotten inside. You have sold your immortal soul to the devil. Only by begging for forgiveness will God consider taking your miserable life into His eternal home. You heartless hind, you left them both and never looked back. Dead or alive, no one deserves that."

Her eyes met a picture in the top right corner of her mirror, and she began to cry. It was a picture from Christmas sixteen years before—the only picture she had salvaged. Remus was seated at the piano; Lily, James, and Sirius stood behind him, singing along. Sirius held a small, chubby, happy baby in his arms, who was smiling one of the biggest smiles Lily had ever seen and clapping as his family sang. It only reminded Lily of everything she had lost, all she had done and all she’d left behind.

Voldemort had entered her home Halloween fifteen years before. She had run with Harry while James tried to fight him off…but James had died in the attempt. Lily had been determined to die defending Harry, but Voldemort had only stunned her. It had definitely been the Killing Curse, but obviously Voldemort had been more preoccupied with getting to Harry than actually killing her. When she woke up, the house was destroyed and Harry was gone. She knew—she just knew her baby had been destroyed. And she’d run for it without looking back.

She had come to this little village, as far from her home as she could. The pastor of the local church had taken her in, though he knew nothing of her past or guilt. She had been here ever since, trying to absolve herself of her sins, working as a piano teacher. Fifteen long years. Everyone called her Tizzy (her students called her Miss Tizzy) because she’d been such a mess when she arrived. As yet she hadn’t told them her real name. She was just Tizzy.

Controlling her tears, she pulled her hair back into the school-mar’m bun she always wore and headed into the living room to wait for her first student of the day.

Meanwhile, an ocean away…

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, wake up, wake up, wake up!"

James groaned a little and opened his eyes. Hazel eyes and white-gold tresses swam above him blearily.

"Yay! Daddy’s up!"

James laughed a little, sat up, and reached for his glasses. "Good morning, Princess."

Five-year-old Erin beamed. "Morning, Daddy. Jamie said it was time to get up."

"Tell Jamie I’m on my way."

"Okey-dokey."

After a quick shower, James entered the kitchen. "Morning, lassies."

"Morning, Daddy," chorused his daughters.

His daughters. James had never thought he’d have any…not after Halloween fifteen years before, when Lily—his Lily—his childhood bride and the love of his life—and his little boy had been killed. All in one night. He’d woken up—God only knew how, he was sure Voldemort had used the Killing Curse—and looked frantically for Lily and Harry. Both of them were gone. Certain they had been destroyed—would they have left him otherwise?—and stricken by grief, he had left town without even bothering to look for Remus or Sirius.

After some aimless wandering, he had wound up by the docks, where he bought a ticket on the first boat he could get, one that happened to be coming to America. He’d been there ever since.

And it was where he had met Leanne. They’d gone out a couple of times, and when she proposed he accepted before he thought about it, hoping Leanne would heal the hole in his heart. She hadn’t. No matter what happened, he’d never been able to banish Lily from his thoughts. No matter how many times he’d held one of his daughters—his and Leanne’s—in his arms, he couldn’t forget holding Harry.

Jamie—Jamesina—was the oldest. She was thirteen. A third year student at Salem. He’d spoken to the Headmaster the day Jamie’s letter arrived—before he’d told Jamie—and been assured that all the paperwork would be ready should the family return to England. James doubted he ever would—Leanne had never wanted to go—but he would be prepared. Now he was glad he had. Jamie had James’s messy dark hair and hazel eyes, but like Leanne her vision was perfect.

Virginia was next, age eleven. She had her mother’s long golden locks and soft blue eyes—she looked just like her mother. James dreaded the arrival of her Salem letter…he didn’t know why, he just did. He was glad he had Erin around; Virginia looked too much like he imagined Harry would, had he lived. She had a sunny smile and a personality to match.

Erin was the baby. She strongly favoured Leanne, but she had James’s hazel eyes. She was a fairly typical five-year-old—she gave huge hugs, she had a mild lisp, a charming way of capturing everyone’s hearts, and she was thrilled about starting school that fall.

Leanne would have been proud, James thought, looking around at his girls. Every time he thought of Leanne, he knew that he hadn’t loved her the way he loved Lily; while he couldn’t think of Lily without wanting to cry, thoughts of Leanne just gave him a mild, dull ache. She had died three months before, killed in a random shooting.

In fact, it was this that gave him the courage to say what he was about to tell his girls. Leanne would never have approved of the "trip", but James had to get back, find Remus and Sirius, see Lily and Harry’s graves. "Girls," he began, taking a seat seriously, "how would you like to explore your roots?"

Jamie’s eyes lit up. "We get to go to New Jersey?"

"No, not your mother’s roots. My roots. How would you like to go to England?"

"Ooh, do you mean it, Daddy?" Virginia asked excitedly. "We really and truly get to go?"

"I’ve booked tickets. We leave on Monday."

Erin grinned. "Yay!"

Jamie frowned slightly. "How long are we going to be gone, Dad?"

James hesitated. "Well…you know, we have no reason to stay here. I thought we’d move back there."

Jamie’s face fell. "Daddy, what about my school? I’d have to go so far away from home…"

"You’d transfer to Hogwarts. That’s where I went to school. Would you like that?"

Jamie leapt up, her face lighting up again. "Yes!"

James smiled fondly. "Good. Then it’s settled…Go pack what you’ll need for about two weeks. I’ll have Patty and Harold send the rest of it along later."

~~~

"You’re sure, Sir?" Remus asked incredulously, staring at Dumbledore.

"Positive. There’s no mistaking it."

Remus stared in shock, first at Dumbledore and then at the two small instruments that were humming madly. "Why didn’t this work before?"

"I had so many gadgets and gizmos crammed in here they were interfering with these two. Harry broke a lot of them in a mad rage last month—not that I blame him; in fact, I’m glad he did now—and all of a sudden these came alive. There can be no misunderstanding. Lily and James are alive—Lily in a small village in the south of England, James in a large town in America."

Remus swallowed. "Do they…I mean, why have they been there all these years?"

Dumbledore sighed and folded his hands on his desk. "I don’t know for sure, but I have a theory. I believe that when they awoke in the rubble—which must have been after Sirius and Hagrid left with Harry, having seen their bodies—they found Harry gone and the house destroyed. Each must have assumed that the other had been completely destroyed, along with Harry, and run without a backwards look, grieving. In all likelihood they’ve been cut off from the wizarding world, through accident or design, so they have no idea that Harry is alive."

Remus gripped his hands together tightly, trying to keep all his emotions in check. "What are we going to do now?"

Dumbledore gave him a half-smile. "I would assume that the first thing to do is tell Harry."

"I think that should be the last thing we do. I don’t want to raise any false hopes…Lily and James may have settled into new lives and may not want to accept right away that their son is alive. I don’t want to hurt Harry any more than he already has been." Remus’s voice grew soft. "Two hard blows in two short months would kill him."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I believe you’re right. All right, I am turning this over to your capable hands. Speak to them when you see fit."

"Excuse me," Remus said politely to the man passing by, who stopped. "I was wondering if you could help me find a friend of mine."

"My son, I’m the pastor of this village," the man said with a smile. "I know everyone. Who is your friend?"

Remus hesitated. He guessed Lily wouldn’t have given her right name. "She’s about my height, mid-thirties, long red hair, bright green eyes…" Like Harry’s, he added silently to himself, a small ache in his heart as he thought of the boy who had come to mean so much to him. "She’s probably been here for about fifteen years."

The pastor brightened. "Ah, you mean Tizzy!"

"Tizzy?"

"Obviously—or assumedly—that isn’t her real name, but we call her Tizzy. She was in such a state when she arrived that she seemed like a Tizzy, so that’s what we call her. She’s never given us her real name." The pastor nodded. "She lives at the parsonage with me—straight down that way, the white house with red geraniums in the window boxes. You can’t miss it."

"Thank you, sir."

"Any time."

The pastor continued down the street. Remus headed off in the direction the former had indicated. It didn’t take him long to find the little house. A woman about the pastor’s age was puttering in the garden. Two young children, one about eight and one about six, were playing on the lawn; an older boy, perhaps twelve, was helping the woman. It was he who noticed Remus first. "Mum…"

The woman looked over and smiled. "Can I help you?"

I hope this isn’t Lily. "I’m looking for…er…Tizzy."

"She’s in the living room." The woman gestured to the eight-year-old little girl. "Katie, show him the living room."

"Do you have a piano lesson?" Katie asked as she led Remus up to the porch.

The question threw Remus. "Piano lesson? No, why?"

"Miss Tizzy usually never has visitors unless they’re coming for piano lessons."

Remus smiled in spite of himself. "Well, I doubt there’s anything about the piano Miss Tizzy can teach me. She’s an old friend of mine, and as I recall I taught her how to play the piano."

Katie looked confused. "Oh."

Someone was playing the piano in the living room as the two walked in. Remus recognised the hymn—it was Of the Father’s Love Begotten, Lily’s favourite hymn and one he had taught her to play. Katie beckoned him in, then ran ahead of him to the living room.

"Someone’s here to see you, Miss Tizzy," Remus heard Katie say as he approached. "He says he’s your old piano teacher. I’m going back outside, okay?"

"All right, Katie," said a frighteningly familiar voice. "Thank you very much."

Katie darted past Remus. "All set."

"Thank you, Miss Katie," Remus told her kindly. She grinned and scampered off, and he proceeded on his own to the living room.

A tall, slender, woebegone red-haired woman was seated at the piano, her fingers lightly resting on the keys. She had begun playing Angels from the Realms of Glory.

"It jumps to a C, not a B," Remus corrected the woman as she tried to reach the higher register.

"Oh, thanks," the woman said, not looking up. "Can I help you with anything?"

Remus sat down next to her. "You can confirm my suspicions."

"What suspicions?" the woman said, still studying the ivory keys.

"I suspect that you aren’t really Miss Tizzy, the nameless, past-less piano teacher who boards at the parsonage. I suspect that you’re Lily Evans Potter, the bright-eyed, merry-hearted young woman I first met twenty-some years ago."

The woman froze. Slowly, she raised her eyes. They were Harry’s eyes for sure. Remus knew he’d found her. "How did you…" she began, but then stopped. "Remus?"

"Lily?" Remus asked again.

"You knew before you came in," Lily accused him.

Remus smiled and spread out his hands. "Guilty as charged. Lily, why have you been here?"

"You always did like cutting right to the chase, didn’t you?"

"Lily, please. I’ve spent the past fifteen years believing you were dead. I reserve the right to cut to the chase."

Lily sighed. "Okay, okay. I…Remus, I had to get out. I had to get away. I couldn’t live with myself."

"Why? What did you do? I’m the one who wasn’t there for my best friends when they needed me."

"No…Remus, I couldn’t save them."

Remus blinked. "Save who?"

"James and Harry. I remember clearly…when You-Know-Who caught up to me, I put Harry on the hall table behind me. When I came to afterwards—God knows how much later it was—Harry was gone. He must’ve been destroyed when the house blew up. And James…James was lying in the rubble…he was dead, Remus." Tears spilled out of her emerald eyes. "I couldn’t save them, either of them. I wasn’t strong enough…I let my baby die."

"Lily." Remus put one hand on each of her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. "You haven’t been in contact with anyone from our world since then, have you?"

"N-no, of course not. Why?"

Remus hesitated. "This is going to be a shock. Lily, they’re all right."

"What?"

"They’re both alive—Harry’s famous for it. Everyone knew he’d survived, but we were all sure you and James were dead. Dumbledore had these instruments tracking you, he only found out you two were alive a couple days ago—too much interference from the other instruments."

Lily looked up, her mouth slightly open. "Harry…and James…are alive?"

"Yes."

"And everyone thought I was dead?"

"Yes."

Lily leapt up. "I have to see them!" she practically shrieked. "I have to apologise…I have to tell them…"

"Lily, calm down," Remus said, standing up himself. "Please. We have to take this slowly. James is on his way here—he’s been in America, but he’ll be here soon—I’ll contact him when he gets here. And Harry…God, Lily, Harry’s convinced you were dead. He’s lived through hell the last few years. A shock this big—you two turning up out of the blue—could kill him. Let me break it to him slowly, okay? I’ll keep you updated regularly. And I promise, the minute you can see him—or James—I’ll let you know."

Lily took several deep, calming breaths. "Okay," she said finally. "Keep me posted."