15

Chapter 15 - Long Walk, Short Pier

Looking into the mouth a gaping hole of darkness, Harry couldn't express his sense of loss. Being displaced from his reality had been disorienting, to say the least.

But this was his home. The same town, the same street, the same house.

A house that was a skeletal blackened shell of what it had once been. The roof was caved in like a poorly constructed tent.

Naomi's house, his house, their home, gone in a blaze.

Carefully Harry entered the structure he had raised his son in.

Everything was black, charred, and he could only vaguely discern where things had been.

When he brushed his hand over the couch, it dissolved in a puff of dust, metal frame included. It was clear it hadn't been a natural fire. And as much as Harry would have loved to place every evil at Voldemort's feet, he had the sense that it wasn't him.

Combing through the house he found nothing he could salvage, nothing.

He slammed his bedroom -what had been his bedroom's door shut. More than stupid given the condition of the place.

The full-length, blackened mirror on the outside of his door shattered.

Harry stepped back and turned to survey the damage, he pulled his wand and flicked it at his wrist where the glass had cut him, then he repaired the glass, or tried to. The mirror shards stayed motionless on the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Harry reached deep into his own pool of power, and tried to repair everything, anything, in the house.

His magic swept through the space, finding the foundation and- nothing.

He felt it then, the black magic, that had remained dormant after the fire, now reactivated by his magic, smoke began to billow out from the holes in the floor.

Harry cursed.

And when he tried to apparate away, he couldn't, clever trap.

Looking around himself to the quickest exit, something on the floor caught his eye. He bent and picked out of the mirror shards a six-pointed star, with long hexagram at its centre. There was gold writing on it that Harry could not decipher, but he could make out the thin lines of Celtic knots. It, unlike the house, didn't have an aura of black magic.

Pocketing the thing, Harry chose to go through the window in what was once Teddy's bedroom.

The glass was long gone, the wooden frame broke like packed snow, but he had the oddest sensation of forcing his way through cotton. It was like swimming through a pillow, and just as suffocating. Holding his breath, he pushed through the illusion and gasped as he made it to the grass.

When he turned the house was ablaze again. The house gave completely, and the walls fell like sticks.

No, not a mundane fire. And what was more, it was activated by Harry's magic. The muggle firefighters had been relatively safe.

It wasn't Voldemort's style, or maybe the trap had been designed that way on purpose. Clearly, whoever had performed arson on the house had known it belonged to a wizard despite the muggle town.

Regardless, Harry needed to get to his next class.

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When Remus's uncle, Professor Rell stormed into class he looked nothing short of formidable.

As he was passing their table he came to a sudden and complete halt.

Turning on them, expression unfathomable, he asked in a cold voice, "Where is Mr. Pettigrew?"

Remus forced himself to stillness, he wouldn't be the one to give them away.

"No idea, Professor," Padfoot lied smoothly. Though he would never be a Slytherin, Sirius had some quirks that made it pretty obvious he had at least been raised by them.

His uncle's eyes did not stay on Sirius, Remus couldn't tell if he believed the lie or not but his eyes narrowed on James with a frightening intensity.

Remus saw that he had black ash on the side of his face, odd, Professor Rell was always immaculate.

James didn't break, "Honest, Professor, he didn't show for lunch."

Remus, refusing to look away and give up the game, realized, for perhaps the first time, how very alike his uncle and James looked. Sure, it was more than likely they were related somehow, but still… if Uncle Rell cut his hair, he would look like an older James with green; green eyes that he had seen before…

No sooner did he think it, than those emerald eyes were on him.

Remus felt sweat bead on his upper lip, he could almost here Sirius, James, and his uncle thinking, the weak link.

But before he could spill his guts, his uncle sighed, and continued to the front of the class. "Cushioning charms," he announced, "next week we start using stunners and you will be responsible for your fainting self."

Considering they had only been learning protection charms and anti-curses, and every one of them had at some point worried about their life and sanity in previous weeks, no one complained about cushioning charms when offensive spells were next on the docket.

People spent the class falling forward on their hands, a few people bruised their knees and elbows, and few unlucky ones smacked their heads. The girls, Slytherin and Gryffindor, just folded back in a sitting position. Three of the boys had to go to see Madame Pompfry with self-inflicted injuries, Professor Rell showed them not the slightest bit of pity.

"I'm disappointed Pettigrew didn't show up," Severus said on their way to the library.

Lily gave him an askance look, "Why?"

"Did you see Professor Peverell? He came in with a right temper, I would have loved to see him chew out that little worm."

She wrinkled her nose, "He's the worst."

It was Severus's turn to make a face, "Potter is the worst." He knew she didn't mean the professor, she was one of the few Gryffindors who didn't hold the Peverell's near-official Slytherin status against him.

"No," she said loftily, "He's the most annoying, and Black is the most childish. But Pettigrew… he's… well, he's the worst."

Severus stopped, "Did that rat do something to you?"

She stopped too but wouldn't meet his gaze, "No, it's… it's just the way that he looks at me, and at the other girls. The younger girls too. He creeps me out."

"Potter drools over you all the time."

She shrugged, "He's a dunderhead, but I don't think he would hurt me. Pettigrew… I don't know, it's just a feeling, a bad one."

Severus looped his arm with hers, "You spend all your free time with a Slytherin, and yet it's that whelp that scares you? He can't even aim."

She leaned into him and whispered, "I think I saw him coming out of the girls' lavatory once. He was lurking, and… Severus, can you just trust me? There's something wrong with him."

"Dropped on his head one too many times?" Severus asked.

"More like out of a moving car," Lily muttered. "I swear, Potter wouldn't be that bad without him around. I don't know why anyone would be friends with that creep."

"I'll hex him next time I see him lurking around on his own," Severus said, only half-joking in attempt to cheer her up.

She didn't tell him not, and that gave Severus the chills.

Vellin swam in a spiral down to the bottom of the lake, her tail flicking through the water excitedly.

"He started!" she sang through the water.

Aslin came out to greet her followed by several other merpeople.

"Finally," said one mermaid, crossing her arms, "Took him long enough."

"Are you sure?" Vellin asked her.

She nodded and did a backward flip, "The centaurs confirmed it."

"Did he find it?" he asked.

She snorted, "Of course he didn't, Naomi Lupin did write down the answer. That would have been simple and we could have done this shit ourselves."

"But he found something, something our side didn't?" he pressed.

She nodded, "Centaurs didn't say what, just that he was-" she made water quotes with her fingers, "-he had found the correct path."

Harla hissed, "I hate that we have to rely on a wizard for this."

Vellin shook his head, his dark green hair billowing side to side, "I just hope the goblins don't screw this up for us."

They all sighed, no one liked working with the goblins.

Cygnus kissed his daughter's brow, "Are you sure you are fine to head back on your own?"

For the hundredth time, Narcissa nodded, "Yes, Father, I'm fine. I'm just going to stop by Diagon Alley."

He frowned.

"It isn't late yet," she argued.

"Yes, but it gets dark earlier these days."

She kissed his cheek, "I'm a grown witch, I can take care of myself."

"Yes, but, it costs me nothing to go out-"

"Father, I appreciate you, but I need some time to myself. I promise to curse anyone who looks at me too long."

He kissed her cheek again, and she started down the street.

"Narcissa," he called, she looked back, and he said, "About Professor Peverell, I approve."

Her lips twitched. "You are only saying that because you heard he's a Parselmouth," she called back.

He grinned and waved, "That's good blood, daughter, take it or kill it."

The old phrase made her laugh in this context. She blew him a kiss and turned back into the night, walking in the shadows of old street lamps.

She made it to the store half an hour before closing. Her new robes -not that she could wear them at work, were ready.

She had planned to blow Rell off his feet… but, she sighed as she exited the shop. Rell…

"Well, if it isn't one of the Black sisters," a man said from around the corner.

She looked up and reached for her wand as several black cloaks surrounded her.

One of them laughed, "It's the pretty one, I can't wait to see that pretty blonde head of yours-"

Her curse struck him in a silent strip of indigo, his mask melted to his face and he dropped to the ground.

They converged on her, growling expletives.

She downed two more, one fell screaming as a sensation like fire ants crawled under his skin, the other passed out when her spell cut him throw the shoulder. She got one guy in the foot before they physically wrestled her wand from her.

She snarled at them.

And was greeted with a backhanded slap from the man's whose foot was bleeding out into the streets.

"Blacks, batshit crazy fuckers," he snarled.

Including, bleeding one, only he and one other were standing. The other was a big man with large meaty hands, he held her easily and cared not at all for her struggles.

"You going to play nice now, 'Cissy'?" he asked, lifting his mask. She realized who it was, "I am due a black sister."

She spat in his face, "Go take a long walk off a short pier, Lestrange."

He opened his mouth, and he must have heard something behind him, because like the coward he was, disapparated.

Without any command, the other pushed her onto the ground before making his own get away.

Aurors spilled into the alley, apprehending the two she had downed, and taking stock of the bodies of the two she had killed.

"Narcissa," Kingsley's voice rumbled.

She looked up at him gratefully, taking his offered hand to help her to her feet.

She looked around and found that her robe box had survived unscathed. She held out her hand and accioed her wand silently. It didn't come, so she tried it aloud, "Accio Wand."

It didn't come.

A sense of deepest loss overcame her.

Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder, "We'll get it back."

She wasn't going to hold her breath.

"Are you going back home or to Hogwarts?" Kingsley asked, not having to ask what happened to the men who had tried to jump her.

"Hogwarts," she said, she would not be able to face Father like this, he wouldn't let her out of the house alone again until she was married. She glared around at the other Aurors, "My involvement in this better stay out of the papers, and if it does, I hex any of you who lets it slip that my wand was taken into the next century."

"Lady, you care about your, wand, not that you killed two people?" one of the Aurors asked, outraged.

"Shut it, Lockhart," Kingsley growled, "It was self-defence. Come on, Narcissa, I'll escort you back. I have business at Hogwarts at any rate. Dumbledore has some explaining to do."

"What did the old coot do now?" she asked as he bent to pick up her robe box.

He offered his arm, "I'm certain you will hear tomorrow, either in the papers, or an announcement from Dumbledore himself tomorrow morning. Suffice it to say, he's fucked up."

Frowning, and feeling as if she had lost a limb without her wand as she took hold of her soon to be brother-in-law's arm, Kingsley disapparated them.

"Potter, Black, Lupin," Jordan the prefect called to them, he shook James awake.

Remus was already up, and had been before Jordan had entered their room.

"What is it?" he asked.

James groaned, and rolled over to grab his glasses.

Sirius slid to the floor off his bed, "I'm up, I'm up." He rested his head back on the side of the bed, "What time is it?"

"Nearly Two in the morning," Jordan said sourly. "McGonagall what's to see you three in her office."

"Now?" Sirius whined, sinking all the way to the floor, pulling his blanket with him.

"Now," Jordan stressed, then walked out slamming the door behind him.

"He's the one who wanted to be a prefect," Sirius sneered at the door.

"I'm a prefect," Remus said, "Jordan and Paulson just got off their rounds, I think."

James slipped on his robe, "Well, let's go."

"What's this about, anyhow?" Sirius asked with a yawn, pulling himself up with the bed poster, before getting his arm stuck into inside out robe.

"What do you think it's about," Remus said angerly, he had been up all night with the map, "Peter still hasn't come back yet."

"Wormtail will come back," Sirius said with another yawn, finally getting his robe straight and belted, "he always comes back. Do you remember when we first tried to shake him in our first and second year? He doesn't quit."

"Let's go," James said, not sounding as certain as Sirius yet not as panicked as Remus felt he ought to be.

Where ever Peter was, he wasn't in Hogwarts.

McGonagall's office wasn't far, and they were all surprised to find not just their Head of House but also Professor Rell, he stood behind her leaning against the bookshelf.

"What's he doing here?" James asked.

Rell's stony expression to flicker a bit.

"Have a seat you three," McGonagall said, her voice sombre as they had ever heard it.

They sat in the three chairs, and waited in silence for one of the professors to speak.

McGonagall leaned forward and sighed. With one hand, she squeezed her spectacle with the other, she rubbed at eyes with her fingers, "Rell, if you would, please?" Her voice almost broke after the last word.

"Ordinarily," Rell began, his voice sounded ominous in the room lit only by the fire place and a few candles, "The Headmaster and Aurors would be questioning you. But Albus Dumbledore has taken responsibility for the Vanishing Cabinet being left on the first floor, and the Aurors have agreed it was an accident, and Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew have waved their right to press charges. But you need to answer us honestly, who was responsible for pushing Mr. Pettigrew into the Vanishing Cabinet and what did you think was going to happen to him?"

Remus felt the world fall out from under him, and he was glad he was already sitting. He asked in a breathless voice, "Is he dead?"

Sirius and James turned horrified expressions on him.

"No," James said, then again with more adamantly, "No. He can't be dead. It was just a harmless prank. We put a tracking charm on him and everything just in case he got lost."

Sirius gave James a pitying look, but Remus looked back at the professors, waiting for them to say, 'No, he's not dead, but he is at St. Mungo's.'

Instead, McGonagall sniffed and looking up she said, "Yes, Mr. Peter Pettigrew is dead. And no, Mr. Potter, a harmless prank it was not."

Remus put his hands over his face and tried to breathe, no, no, no.

"What happened, exactly?" his uncle asked, he sounded rather indifferent, maybe a hint of anger but no sadness.

Remus let his hands fall to his lap, and met his uncle's gaze. He wondered if the wizard had disliked Peter so much that he wouldn't care if a student died.

If that were so, then perhaps his uncle really would have been a Slytherin, and not one of the decent ones.

Remus was going to explain it all, but Sirius beat him to it. James was still in shock.

"We got the message that pranks were bad, and that your new professor hear wasn't going to tolerate it. So we scaled back, we thought, 'no one's going to care if we prank each other.' James and I planned it out, and we got Remus to hold Peter back from lunch, after the crowd passed, I pushed him in as he was walking by."

James shook his head, "Sirius opened the doors, I pushed Peter in. This is my fault." He looked at Remus and Sirius, and the look…

Remus knew James had a good heart, because, in that moment, he saw the heartbreak at Peter's death, and the fact that Remus and Sirius were about to be expelled. James didn't care in that moment a wit for himself, and Remus was certain that he would have traded spots with Peter in a heartbeat.

And to prove him right, James asked, "Are Sirius and Remus going to be expelled? It wasn't their fault," he repeated, "it was mine."

"I'm glad that's registered," Rell said harshly.

"None of you are being expelled," McGonagall said tiredly, "Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew insisted no punishment be given. And accidents do happen. If the Vanishing Cabinet hadn't been broken, hadn't been left out, this wouldn't have happened." She paused before saying, "However, I believe living with this will be hard enough. You understand that the mysterious circumstances of Mr. Pettigrews body being found in a shop in Knockturn Alley will not stop the other assumptions students will make? Your part in his death will not be publicized, but neither will the staff suppress rumours. The consequences of this will be far reaching."

They all nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Remus squeezed out of his throat, not sure if he was talking to McGonagall, his uncle, or the universe. "I'm so sorry." He wiped viciously at the tears.

"I think, Mr. Lupin, it would be best to save apologies for Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew at the funeral."

Remus had to fight to keep from curling in on himself.

James was shaking in his seat, and seemed to be fighting down tears.

Sirius looked blankly off into space, and sat so still it was almost as if he wasn't there at all.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Rell began sternly, "would you feel as badly as you do now if it had been Mr. Snape who you pushed into the cabinet?"

James' sorrow seemed to turn to anger, "What kind of question is that? Peter is my friend."

Rell nodded, "It seems it needs to be impressed upon you that your actions have repercussions."

James stood to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor, "My friend is dead! I get it! I bloody well get it!"

Rell didn't flinch and stated calmly. "It would matter less to you if it had been Mr. Snape rather than Mr. Pettigrew who died."

"Yes!" James shouted at him.

"And yet, it would matter no less to Mrs. Snape than it does to Mrs. Pettigrew that her son is dead."

Silence.

James looked as if he had just been punched in the gut, and seemed to deflate where he stood.

"Bastard," Sirius muttered under his breath.

Rell turned on him, "And Mr. Black, is your future more important than preserving a friendship with someone who has no consideration for your circumstances?"

Sirius bared his teeth, "Long walk, short pier, asshole."

"Mr. Black," McGonagall reprimanded, though with less force than normal.

Uncle Rell was undeterred, "I may not have been raised in the wizarding world, but my wife explained to me the history of House Black. Do you think the law will be sympathetic to you in the future? Gryffindor or no, there may come a day when your friends are not around to help you and your actions are left to be judged with every bias against you present."

Sirius stiffened, "That's not fair."

"Life seldom is."

"Enough," McGonagall said, "Go back to bed, all of you, sleep if you can. I expect you to attend all your classes, homework completed."

Remus wished they would expel, give them detention, anything, but being made to go to class, to proceed like nothing had happened or changed…

It really was the worst punishment of all.

"Remus," Rell called as they three headed for the door, "a word."

Sirius and James gave him miserable expressions, and McGonagall followed those two out, clearly wanting to speak with them alone as well. Remus and his uncle, McGonagall and her two favourite students.

Coming around the desk, Uncle Rell spoke in a softer tone than he had used all evening, "Remus, would you like me to write a letter home, explain what happened?"

"It was an accident," Remus said without thinking, "You didn't have to be so cruel to James and Sirius."

"Yes, I did. They both have peculiarly thick skulls."

"Why do you hate them so much?"

His uncle smiled a little, and shook his head, "Quite the contrary, I assure you, but no one wants a repeat of this incident."

"Don't act like you care, you hated Peter the most, I saw it! And I think it's why you never have Teddy around for our classes. But you know what? You're wrong, Peter was my friend!"

Uncle Rell said nothing.

Remus suddenly had the urge to hit him. He wanted this calm, self-contained man to hurt like he was hurting. It was irrational, but he was out of control, and it was the new moon tonight so he had no excuse for what he did next. "I don't know why Aunt Naomi married a cad like you! You're an awful, heartless person! And there's a reason why your son is freakishly quiet! And it's because of you!"

He said nothing, and it was Remus' heavy breathing that filled the room.

Remus felt himself flush, and he swallowed, gaining control of his breathing but refusing to apologize. Screw him.

His uncle sighed, "Remus, losing a friend… You're never going to be the same again. I've made my mistakes. I lost my godfather in a series of poor decisions."

Remus just shook his head, crossing his arms, and digging his own nails into his biceps until he was sure there would be bruises to the sacred flesh.

"Remus, this was not your fault, I know it feels that way but-"

"You told me once to not let strangers define me, Peter, James, and Sirius are not strangers."

"No, they are not. So let me just say this, inaction can be as dangerous as action. I am not saying you should go running to the authority at every turn. But asking for help is not weakness, following others blindly is."

"I wasn't blind. I knew it was a bad idea and helped anyway. This was my fault."

"Then perhaps, speaking up for yourself would have been wise."

"I did!" Remus all but cried, "I told them it was a bad idea! I told them, I-" he cut himself off. Then said, "This is my fault."

His uncle approached him then, and tapped on his head, "Then next time, use your head, make them hear you. As I said, those two have thick skulls. And Remus, you don't have to do everything your friends tell you to do, you are your own person. Granted, it seems likely nothing short of going to a professor would have stopped them. But in the future, you need to make your own choices, and that doesn't necessarily mean you cut yourself off from everyone. If they are your friends, they will respect you."

Remus felt like crying again and hated it, "But they're all I've got aside from my parents. I'm a werewolf, I'm-"

The older wizard put his hand on his shoulders, "A good person."

Remus felt something break inside him as he looked up at this man, "How- How can you say that- after- after- what I've done?"

"Life goes on, tomorrow will come, and the day after that. It doesn't stop for our woes, it doesn't forgive, because it goes on regardless of right or wrong. Therefore it is for us to decide whether or not we keep trying."

Remus cried then, ugly, loud, snotty tears, and Professor Peverell wrapped him in a hug. He didn't know if it was because they were family or because Remus had been wrong before, well, wrong again.

His uncle did have a heart.