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sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-07 01:10 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-07 01:10 pm
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Laocoon's Children: The End Of The Story, Part One
I've been meaning to go back to Laocoon's Children for a long time. I've talked about my hesitation and the reasons for it here, and I decided finally, in the end, it's too much. There's too much to write, and I want to focus on other things now. But I've felt guilty leaving it unfinished, so I wanted to post my notes.
Turns out I had a lot more notes than I expected. I even had scenes to share.
This is a summary of what I had been planning to write, to finish this project. Some of it is a bit vague, and some of it has been adjusted to take in the last two books, which were published after this plotting was finished. I hope you enjoy it; I present it both with pride for what it is, and with my apologies that it isn't all it could be.
THE RIVER HOUSE:
A couple of the River House stories went unfinished, so I thought I'd toss those in first.
TYRANNOSAURUS WAS A BEAST:
Harry's tenth birthday yields a particular surprise; a rare trip outside of Llangynog district, to the Natural History Museum in London. There is, of course, a secret door that leads to the Wizarding wing, which has MOVING dinosaur skeletons and lots of snakes for Harry. The gist of this story was that Remus had invited Snape to come see Harry, so Snape slunk around the exhibits watching Harry have a good time, and was satisfied that the boy was being properly raised.
THE LOST OWL:
Lucius Malfoy beat Sirius to finding Peter after the deaths of the Potters because Remus, who was meant to leave for Rome the previous day, sent Sirius on a wrong turning. Remus didn't leave because his ticket-money was late; his ticket-money was late because the post owl went astray; and the post owl went astray because it was knocked off course by a mysterious broomstick-riding figure. That's really all there is to this one -- it's just a vivid description of the reason that the two stories, canon and Laocoon's Children, branched. I'll come back to this one in the summary of book seven.
And onwards we go...
BOOK THREE: The Rest Of The Story.
I do have the opening of the next chapter, quite a bit of it actually.
***
With no plans to retaliate against the Twins for their prank during the Qudditch game, May stretched out before Harry as an unending month of study and work, swotting for exams in June and practicing Quidditch for the Cup against Gryffindor. Padma was too busy studying to help them plot pranks of any kind, and Neville swung wildly between studying madly and worrying incessantly. Harry dreaded to think what a wreck Neville might become when they had OWLs and not just regular Hogwarts exams.
He spent a lot of time with Draco, out on the Quidditch pitch, generally when neither of their captains could catch them though Madam Hooch insisted on being present when any student was practicing. The Dementors liked to drift over and skulk in corners, though they didn't like her whistle and would generally disperse if she blew it.
Draco needed help learning to react to the precision flight of the Firebolt, and Harry just plain loved to fly on it. Draco had already said he could borrow it for the Cup, so it was just as well he was learning too -- the Firebolt was meant for adults in professional play, and could be tricky about braking and sudden turns.
"Well, that bollockses the rest of the afternoon," Draco said, leaning on Harry's Nimbus and staring up at the clouds beginning to gather over Hogwarts. Harry, dismounting the Firebolt carefully, followed his gaze. "It's going to rain soon."
"We can practice in the rain, it'll be good," Harry said. "The Cup's two days away, what if it rains during the game?"
"Sod that, I'm not getting rained on for the sake of you winning the Cup," Draco answered with a grin. "Come on, Harry, let's go inside and get something to eat."
"Time to go in, boys," Madam Hooch called, forestalling any argument Harry could have made. She brought her broomstick down next to them and dismounted. "You've done good work, Potter, but Professor McGonagall thinks you're neglecting your studies. Mustn't ignore lessons for Quidditch; you might play for England in a few years' time but you'd better have an education when you get out of it."
"I study!" Harry protested.
"Good; now study more. Think how ashamed Professor Lupin will be if you don't pass your Defence exam," she said, giving them a gentle shove. Harry sulked a little as they hung up their broomsticks, until a thought crossed his mind.
"Do you suppose Madam Hooch knows about Remus and Sirius?" he asked Draco, stepping back outside. The promised rain had begun, just a drizzle for now but intensifying every minute.
"Maybe," Draco said. "Doubt it, though. Why would she know?"
"She's friends with McGonagall. McGonagall definitely knows. I don't think it's as big a secret as they think it is," Harry added. "I mean, people must be able to put two and two together."
"Why should they? That kind of thing doesn't happen a lot in the Wizarding World."
"Says who?" Harry demanded. "It's just not talked about, but I bet there's loads of men like my parents."
"Well, don't snarl at me about it, I couldn't care less. If people don't talk about it then they probably don't even know much about it, so they don't think about it. Anyway, the people who do add it up probably keep shut about it because they'd be accused of thinking about it too much."
"Now I'm thinking about it too much. You don't reckon the kitchen has cold butterbeer, do you? This rain's awfully humid," Harry complained.
"Bet the elves would go down to Hogsmeade and get us some," Draco said. "In fact...Dobby! Dobby, are you around?"
There was a soft pop, and Dobby appeared in front of them so suddenly that they had to stop walking. He was holding a dish in one hand and a towel in the other, obviously in the middle of doing the washing-up.
"Master Draco summons Dobby?" he squeaked excitedly.
"Well, not if you're busy," Draco said, eyeing the plate.
"Dobby is just doing the washing, but Master Sirius Black is not at home, and Dobby can wash it later," Dobby said. "What is Master Draco requiring?"
"We're going up to the library," Draco said. Harry glanced at him, frowning. They weren't supposed to have food in the library. "I need you to bring us something."
Dobby bowed, nearly dropping the plate.
"Please go down to Hogsmeade...here," Draco dug a Galleon out of his pocket. "And get us some butterbeer? And then very, very quietly bring it to me in the library? But put the plate back first."
"Butterbeer, quiet in the library," Dobby said determinedly. "And put the plate back first. Dobby will be doing it, Master Draco!"
"Thank you," Draco said, and Dobby disappeared again. The rain began to fall harder, and Draco pulled the back of his jumper over his head, protecting his face. "Come on Harry, we'd better run for it."
Behind them, the grass began to bend and ripple as the rain fell in earnest.
***
The day of the Cup match dawned clear, despite the heavy rain that had begun on Friday and poured throughout Saturday. Rosmerta took it as a good sign; lots of people would be in town for the match, and if it was clear but muddy they would want to stay in one place to drink. She put mud-brushes at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, scrubbed the place until it shone, and listened on short-wave Floo broadcast as the game got underway. Rosmerta was not an enormous follower of the game, but its outcome generally affected her income, so she made a point to have the matches on when she was likely to get a crowd. People began to arrive during the game too, of course, but on a day like this most would either be at the match or (wisely) at home and under good cover.
"Reckon that Flint fellow be recruited?" one of her regulars asked, sipping his drink at the bar. On the floo broadcast, the game entered its second, determined, and score-tied hour.
"I don't see why," she replied. "From all I've heard, he's not terribly good, is he?"
"Nah," the man answered. "Made a good go of the team, though. Slytherin been well-night unbeatable this year, eh?"
Rosmerta shrugged just as Lee Jordan's voice, coming over the Wizarding Wireless, picked up in tempo and pitch. Both of them listened intently as the noise began to grow to include the shouts of the crowd in the stands. When the shouting deafened Jordan entirely, Rosmerta switched it off and smiled.
"Stick around," she said. "Sirius Black will be here soon, and you don't want to miss it."
People did begin to arrive a short time later, trickling in at first as the early-leavers arrived and then pouring in as the honoured guests, parents, and professors who had remained behind to congratulate their students realised that what they really wanted was a hot drink to stave off the damp and somewhere loud to re-live the game. A couple of seventh-year students crept in as well, having snuck off from school, and Rosmerta kindly ignored them as a graduation gift.
HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE
The door burst open and a crowd of people pushed their way inside, shaking rain from their heads and stuffing umbrellas into the Quick-Dry Charmed Umbrella Stand near the entryway. Sirius Black was in the middle of the group, conducting a pair of seventh-years in a version of the school song that Rosmerta heard far more often than the hallowed halls of Hogwarts every would. Professor Lupin leaned on his shoulder, looking a little less exuberant than the rest, hand clenching Sirius' cloak tightly.
WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR SEVEN YEARS
IT'S TIME WE BUSTED FREE!
OUR HEADS HAVE HAD THEIR FILLING
WE'RE BORED OUT OF OUR SOCKS
AND NOW WE'D LIKE TO FILL OUR THROATS
WITH FIREWHISKEY SHOTS!
She began lining up glasses on the counter as they crowded around the bar, hooting and grinning. A few grim-looking Gryffindor parents in the back seemed as though they were trying to be good sports.
WE'D LIKE TO FIND SOME WOMEN
AND SHOW THEM WHAT WE KNOW
WE HAVE THE FINEST WANDS AROUND
AND THEY KNOW HOW TO -- OH!
HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE!
The rest of the bar burst into applause. Sirius bowed deeply; Rosmerta saw Remus Lupin stagger as Sirius' arm suddenly threw him off balance.
"Drinking already, Professor?" she asked, over the noise.
"Bad example! Never. I've been ill," he replied. He certainly looked it; his cheeks were flushed with excitement but his skin was pale and his bright eyes were slightly sunken, as if he hadn't been sleeping quite right.
"That's right," Sirius said, turning back to the bar. "Rosmerta. Beautiful corrupter of my youth. Something hot and bracing for Lupin, and a round of firewhisky shots for any who want them. My Harry's won the Cup!"
"I heard," Rosmerta grinned. "I thought you might be by. I never thought I'd see the day you celebrated a Slytherin victory, Sirius Black."
"Tease me now, while I'm in a good mood," he said cheerfully. "And toast, will you?"
"I most certainly will," she said, pouring a small glass of firewhisky for herself and holding it up. Lupin picked up the hot toddy she'd made him and touched rims; Sirius tipped his shot glass against hers.
"To Harry Potter," he said. "The fastest, smartest, keenest boy to ever ride a broomstick!"
"Harry Potter," Rosmerta agreed, taking barely time for the shot before someone tried to get her attention at the other end of the bar.
Slytherin green was everywhere and the parents of Slytherins tended to be wealthy people who wanted interesting drinks; if Gryffindor had won she could have poured beer until dawn and everyone would have been happy, but by the time she'd set up the charms to mix drinks and colour the vodka green and distribute the rum only to those who could really and truly handle rum, Lupin's glass was dry.
"Another hot toddy for you, luv?" she asked.
"Easy on the firewhiskey," he said, nodding. "And nothing stronger than butterbeer for Sirius."
"Oi! We've won the Cup. It's practically traditional to get roaring drunk and mortify myself in public," Sirius replied.
"When you're seventeen, perhaps. Can we settle for only a little drunk and skip the public mortification?" Lupin asked. He coughed, and Sirius looked guilty, though Rosmerta couldn't see why Sirius Black should feel guilty that Professor Lupin was ill.
"Well, I suppose the rest of 'em can do the drinking for me. Sure you're all right, mate?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Lupin said, as Rosmerta pretended to busy herself with the hot water for the toddy. His voice dropped lower and she could only make out a few words; see the Cup from Lupin, and something about two days before from Black. Still, Lupin did seem to perk up a little as he sipped his drink, and Black took advantage of the packed pub to lead another scurrilous anthem.
Oh, there was a maid who loved young Will,
A farmer in Hogsmeade town,
But she was a student on the hill,
And ne'er was allowed to go down, go down,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
So she took the kit of a local boy,
And a fair young lad made she,
But her hair she could not hide away,
For a hat she was in need, in need,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
"I'm quite fond of this one," Lupin said to Rosmerta, as Sirius bellowed the nonsense words. "It's not very clever or original, but it's one of the few where nobody dies of love or gets stabbed in a duel."
Rosmerta, who had been noticing that Sirius Black's hand was in the small of his best friend's back and creeping downward, glanced up at him.
"What do you suppose whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay means?" she asked.
"Couldn't tell you. Probably they meant to go back in and put in real words later."
She took up a hat laying on a shelf,
And placed it upon her head,
Did she know not it was a Sorting Hat,
She did not know, she did, she did,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
And her young Will saw her on the road,
A fair boy he thought was she,
So out he called, will ye rest, young boy,
Under the tall oak tree, with me,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
Young Will took hold of the fair boy's sleeve,
And kissed him on the cheek,
And the Sorting Hat cried IT'S YOUR TRUE LOVE!
And Will shouted, OH BUGGER ME! BUGGER ME!
SING WHACK-FOL-A-RIDDLE-ALLA-TAY!
Rosmerta saw Lupin laugh and toast to the singers with the last of his toddy, but it looked suspiciously as though Sirius Black was the only person in the entire room that he personally gave tuppence about. Before she could ruminate on what precisely this might mean, a flashbulb popped and Sirius turned suddenly.
"You!" he said, pointing with an empty shot glass at the photographer in the doorway. A woman was standing just behind him, quill and parchment in her hand. "Sod on off out of here before I break that!"
"Ah, you can't keep the press out," the woman behind the photographer called.
"Watch me!" Sirius retorted, and with a flick of his wand the door closed on the camera and, once the horrified photographer had pulled it out of the repeatedly-slamming door, latched itself. The rest of the room broke into applause.
"One more round on me," Sirius said, even as he took his cloak off the hook by the door.
"Leaving already?" someone called.
"I'll let you lot carry on till dawn," Sirius said with a laugh. "Come on, Lupin, let's get you home, and then I'm off to see if the Cannons have recruited Harry yet. Besides, that Skeeter's bound to skullk round the back. Tell her for me," he said, and the room fell silent, "Tell her for me that if she can write one coherent word about Quidditch on her own, I'll pay her thirty Galleons."
Rosmerta smiled fondly on the pair of friends as they left. She had watched many students grow up and go off into the world and come back to celebrate their childrens' triumphs in her pub, but it had to be said that there was nobody quite like Sirius Black.
***
"How're you feeling?" Sirius asked, as he and Remus walked slowly down the rutted road towards the house overlooking Creadonagh Valley.
"A bit tired, but not too bad," Remus replied. "I'm grateful I shan't have to teach on Monday. Ollivander's coming up on Sunday to get my notes, by the by. I've told him I'll meet him at Hogwarts."
"You couldn't have him come down to the house?"
"I think we've been indiscreet enough lately, don't you?" Remus asked gently. "We'll have all of Saturday together, and I won't be gone long on Sunday. And you can look after me and stuff me with food all day on Monday." He shivered a little as the wind blew against them, and Sirius threw his arm around his shoulder.
"Did you see Harry looking for us after he won?" Sirius asked, trying to keep Remus' spirits high. "Did you see him wave the cup at you?"
"I'm fairly sure he was waving it at you," Remus replied.
"Us, then."
"Us," Remus agreed, stopping at the crest of the gentle slope that led down to the house. He shaded his eyes against the orange glow which was all that remained of the sunset. Sirius ran his fingers up the back of his neck, threading them through his hair. Remus closed his eyes and smiled.
"Reckon we'll have to begin closing it up soon," Sirius said. Remus opened his eyes, glancing at him. "Bound for Betwys Beddau in a few weeks. Strange life, eh?"
"Wouldn't trade it," Remus said, thinking of the dreams he'd had, dreams in which he was always cold, and Sirius was never there. He leaned forward impulsively and kissed Sirius -- a kiss that drew on until Sirius gently stepped back, stroking his cheek.
"Me either. Come on, I'll -- did you see that?" Sirius asked suddenly. Remus glanced at him.
"See what?"
"I thought I saw something in the hedge..." Sirius released him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder before crossing the road to investigate, wand at the ready.
"Probably just a bird or something," Remus called. "Leave it alone, scavenger."
"I'm sure it was bigger than that," Sirius replied.
"Well, then a deer, maybe. Sirius, come away from the undergrowth," Remus said, unsteadily joining him and tugging one shoulder. Sirius, peering into the blackness, shook his head.
"Lucius Malfoy's still out there," he said reproachfully.
"Yes, and if you go hurtling through the darkened forest after him you're liable to get yourself killed. Then I'd have to fill out all this paperwork, and pick you out a burial plot, all of which is an enormous waste of my very valuable time," Remus said, as Sirius reluctantly moved away and began walking down the road once more.
"Don't bury me somewhere," Sirius said. Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"That wasn't the conversation I wanted to have."
"I mean it, though. Don't Muggles donate their bodies to Science? I want to do that. I'll donate my body to Magic," Sirius said. "Besides, it'll be one up the nose of my family."
"Your family -- Sirius, your family is me and Harry and the Tonkses."
"Well, you know what I mean." Sirius kicked a rock, which thumped down the road and collided with their front door. "All the Blacks are buried in a giant crypt. Dad used to take us there sometimes."
"I remember you saying something about that at school. Isn't your mum there?" Remus asked. He did not have pleasant memories of Mrs. Black.
"Last one ever, far as I'm concerned. When I die, call up St. Mungo's and ask them if they have any use for a handsome daredevil animagus."
"You're so sure I'll outlive you?" Remus asked, unlocking the door.
"All right, what do you want done with your carcass when you die?"
"I don't want to think about it, thanks."
"You won't have to! You'll be all lazy and quiet in your casket and I'm going to have to think about it," Sirius replied, slipping out of his shoes and helping Remus out of his heavy cloak.
"Let's talk about something else," Remus said. "Weren't we discussing Betwys Beddau?"
"Yes, and I've had an idea," Sirius said, flopping down onto the sofa in the living room. "I'll make you a deal."
"Nothing good ever starts with the phrase I'll make you a deal."
"Hear me out! I'll buy a shop in Hogsmeade next year and open it up, but in return, you have to be a gentleman of leisure all summer long. No bookstore clerking, no tea-pouring, no gainful employment."
Remus sat in the large soft chair by the window, relaxing joint by joint, eyes closed. "I like to work. What would I do with all the spare time?"
"I can think of one or two things," Sirius answered, flopping down on the floor next to his legs. Remus' hand strayed down to stroke his hair. "Maybe more than two."
Remus could feel himself dozing off, slipping away from the house and Sirius into blissful darkness. His muscles wouldn't hurt when he was asleep; if he could, he'd sleep until the full moon was over and school was finished, and they were on the train to Betwys Beddau.
***
He woke in the dark, uncertain where he was at first, conscious that he'd dozed off in the chair -- or had he been in the Forest already when it happened? He was in the forest now...
He pushed himself up off the leafmould that carpeted the Forest floor, the sharp damp bark cutting into his palms, dirt clinging to the skin of his chest and hips. He drew his legs up under him, finding himself naked, vulnerable...weak. Subject to the cold, his body already shaking with fatigue, the sun in entirely the wrong place. Only a minute ago it had been going down over Creadonagh Valley...
And now it was rising in the east, cutting through the trees.
No, he hadn't fallen asleep in the chair, he had been...standing for the Change, and Harry had been there, and so had Sirius.
He moaned and pressed his hands to his face, rocking back and forth. It was one of those dreams, the dreams where he touched a man across some invisible divide, where he looked in on a cold and dark world where he was always scrabbling and struggling and starving. He wished desperately to wake up; he had no desire to share in the other man's misery. He wished he would go away, or die, or something. He wished he could die now.
No, the other him wished he could die...he had betrayed Sirius and Harry, and he had ruined everything. They'd had Peter right where they wanted him and Sirius was going to go free and he'd be allowed to take Harry away from the horrible people who were raising him, and then he, stupid, stupid Remus Lupin, had forgotten the potion and ruined it all.
He felt his body bend back to the earth, pressing his face against his arm, and hot tears poured down over his skin, helpless tears of wrath and frustration.
"Moony?"
He looked up, but it wasn't Sirius standing there; strangest of all strange things, it was Albus Dumbledore. And he was speaking in Sirius' voice.
"Moony," Albus Dumbledore said, in Sirius Black's voice. "You're a disaster, mate."
He opened his eyes, again, and...
***
...looked up at Sirius, clean shaven, the hollows in his cheeks filled out, eyes bright, silky curly hair falling in his face. His Sirius.
"You've been napping. Come on, up to bed with you," Sirius said, and Remus banished the other poor bastard from his mind, allowing Sirius not only to support him up the stairs but to gropingly feel his bum on the way.
***
The Cup match had been played and it was difficult for the teams especially to remember that there was nearly another month of school still to go; Harry found himself restless, and knew that his teammates were as well. Even the normally quiet Draco strained at the restrictive leash a little, and the professors in general had trouble keeping control over their classes.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, was the most well-behaved class in the history of Hogwarts. The Monday after the full moon saw Ollivander substitute teaching -- the Ollivander, who not only already knew the names of everyone in the school but what wands they used and what the core was. He was strange and eerie and the children, even the big seventh-years, stood in complete awe of him. He taught faithfully from Professor Lupin's notes, drilling the students for their exams, but at the end of each class there would be fifteen or twenty minutes to spare, and he would lean back against the desk and give short, oddly mystical lectures about the properties of wands and their relationship to their makers and users.
"Many of you have heard me say," he said, while Harry passed a note to Neville about pick-up Quidditch that afternoon, "that the owner does not choose the wand, but the wand its owner. This is one of many things in your life for which no proof will be provided, and must be accepted on faith."
***
And that's where I stopped writing. I don't remember where I was going with Ollivander's lesson but I am sure it would have been awesome. This chapter was going to cover final exams, as well, and end with Draco being kidnapped by Lucius (in the same way Ron was kidnapped by Sirius at the end of the real book).
Harry and company were going to follow Lucius' trail back to the Shrieking Shack. In the Shrieking Shack I'd planned for a quite terrifying visual of Lucius stroking Draco's head, being very paternal towards him, creepily paternal, as he waits for Harry to arrive. He wanted Draco back, of course, but Harry is his real target because Harry can be used to find the Dark Lord. Lucius explains also that he's an animagus, a white snake -- Peter, who is in-fucking-sane, came to him as a rat in Azkaban and taught him animagery, and that's how he escaped.
There's a fight, in which Draco is more or less useless because he's scared out of his mind, but Padma and Harry manage to escape when Padma grabs Harry and gives the time-turning a quick flick.
Having jumped back in time, Padma and Harry face down the dementors on their way from the Shrieking Shack to Hogwarts, in an attempt to get help. They manage to make it only as far as Remus and Sirius's house. Remus and Sirus, of course, go charging into the fray and get their asses kicked, because Peter is incredibly strong. The problem is that Peter wants to slaughter Remus, Sirius, and the children, including Draco, because he only needs Harry. Peter and Lucius begin to infight, and the adults manage to get free and stage a second attack. Peter, reluctantly, flees; Lucius manages to escape as a snake, leaving Draco behind. It's also admitted at some point during this that Lucius is the one who gave Draco the Firebolt.
This is a scene from when they give chase, after Sirius has been wounded. They're in the forest and encounter some centaurs...
***
Remus stood slowly, holding up his hands. Several of the centaurs notched their arrows.
"We don't mean to trespass," he said slowly.
"You," the dark-haired one said. "You are on Centaur grounds."
"I know, and I'm sorry. Look," Remus held out his wrists. "You know the scent. We've been here before. You know we don't interfere with the Centaurs."
Harry held his breath. Remus swallowed and continued.
"We were chasing a trespasser," he said. "Peter Pettigrew."
Silence. In the quiet of the forest, Harry could hear the bowstrings tightening.
"The man who destroyed the Mirror of Ynitsed," he blurted, clutching Sirius' shirt tightly. A low murmur rippled through the herd.
"That's right," Remus agreed. "We were hunting him. If you find him he's yours, but there are children -- look," he said, gesturing at Harry. "My -- my foal. And three others. And my mate -- "
"Your mate?" the dark-haired one scoffed.
"Yes. He's hurt. Please. Do what you like with me, but give them safe passage. The children and my mate. Please," Remus said. Harry had never heard Remus beg before. "Please -- "
There was the twang of an arrow being loosed, but at the same time the thud of hooves, and Harry heard a sickening thud as the arrow found flesh. He waited for Remus' scream of pain, but it didn't come; instead, when he looked up, a pale white body stood between Remus and the herd.
"Get out of the way, Firenze," the dark-haired centaur snarled. A palomino centaur, his hair white-blond and tied back with a leather strap, stood shuddering in front of Remus. As Harry watched, he reached backwards and pulled the arrow out of his flank.
"We do not shoot colts," he said, snapping the arrow in half. Harry saw blood dripping down one leg.
"That -- half-breed is not a colt!"
"He is protecting his get, the same as we would," Firenze answered defiantly. "He did not come here to defy us. If you kill the man and his get, you will have to step over my body to do so."
Several of the bows lowered. Firenze turned his head.
"Is it true you came hunting the man who destroyed the mirror?" he asked.
"I swear to you," Remus said. Harry felt Sirius' heart speed up, and knew that he was waking. He pressed one hand over his mouth in warning.
"And the children?"
"Victims of the man. Take me as a hostage if you don't believe me, just let Harry go."
"There will be no hostages, werewolf," Firenze said. "I remember your scent. Twenty years ago I remember a hunt with your pack. You were a cub then."
Sirius moved his arms. Harry leaned close to his ear.
"Don't move," he whispered. Sirius nodded and fell still.
"Any Centaur who harms a child in this forest will answer to me," Firenze said loudly. His voice echoed back eerily. "The colt will go now."
Harry felt Remus pull him away, and he struggled.
"Go, Harry," Remus whispered. "Run. Run fast and don't look back. We'll come for you. You promised you'd do as I told you. Run!"
He shoved Harry and the momentum put his feet on the path; once moving he could no more have stayed and fought than he could have sprouted wings. He heard crunching behind him, hooves on dead leaves, but he didn't dare turn around.
***
The time travel in this version is purely to free Buckbeak, and sort of a side-plot; Padma also gives up the time-turner like Hermione did, though I think I possibly planned to have it confiscated from her for misuse, I can't quite recall.
At the end of the third book, Remus and Sirius get outed. Skeeter had snapped a photo of them kissing -- you saw that in the earlier scene -- and intends to blackmail Sirius with it, but her plan backfires. This I have written as a scene, starting from the moment Sirius loses his patience for blackmail.
***
"Hell with this," Sirius said, and crossed the space between himself and Skeeter with startling speed. He plucked her up by her robes as if she weighed nothing at all, and her feet dangled a few inches off the ground.
"You listen to me and you put this in that bloody gossip rag of yours, or so help me I'll squash you like the insignificant insect you are," he said, while she struggled in his grip. "I am Sirius Black, paterfamilias of the House of Black, godfather of the Boy Who Lived. I am in love with -- there -- that man, Remus Lupin, and if anyone comes near him or my son or me I will kill them to protect my family. If my son suffers, I will kill them, if my lover suffers, I will kill them, and if anyone so much as dares to say a word against me the wrath of the house of Black will descend on them and everyone they love."
Behind her, Rita's quill was moving madly. She opened her mouth and he dropped her, covering her lips with one hand and still holding onto her robes with the other.
"You tell the world who I love," he said. "You tell the world that man is not a valet or a tutor, he is the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. And then you make bloody godsdamn sure they know what I'll do for the people I love. And if you don't tell the world that I love my family and I don't care who knows it, I will kill you. I will kill you. This is not an idle threat."
He released her and she staggered backwards, wiping her mouth.
"The scoop of the century," she said, catching her breath.
"You want a scoop?" Sirius roared. "YOU WANT A SCOOP? You bleeding sore, you fester on the populace? You think I'm the only homosexual in Wizarding Britain? There are thousands of men who would kill to be in my bed. There are women by the score who are going to read what you say on the front page of that cheap bumwipe you work for and turn to their wives and kiss them over breakfast. There are men who will come up to me on the street and kiss me on the mouth. There are boys fifteen years old who will read your words and go up to the boy of their dreams and ask them to the dance because Sirius Black likes men too. You want a scoop, you neutered kneazle? You'll have a bloody sexual revolution! And I say bring it on! So you had better say it, or I will buy the Prophet and burn it to the ground and bury you in the ashes. I will end you."
He snatched the quill and parchment out of the air and thrust it at her. When she hesitated, he drew close again.
"Take it, or I'll choke you with it."
She snatched the parchment out of his hands and bolted.
"READ THAT AND REMEMBER!" he shouted after her, as she ran.
With the roar of his pulse dying in his ears, Sirius caught his breath and became aware of a deep, impenetrable silence. He looked behind him; Remus was standing a few paces away, Harry in front of him. His arms were wrapped protectively around Harry's shoulders, and both of them were staring at him in jaw-dropped amazement.
"I swear to god if you don't kiss me -- " Sirius began, but Remus had already come forward and cut him off in mid-breath with a kiss.
"I love you," Remus said.
"Yeah, well, read the Prophet tomorrow and you'll know what I think about you," Sirius replied, and Remus smiled. "Harry, c'mere."
Harry came forward, smiling uncertainly. Sirius pulled him into the embrace, stroking his hair. They stood there until Remus began to laugh.
"This is not how I expected to come out," he said, around his laughter. "Front page of the Prophet!"
"Well, it was that or take out an advert, and adverts are expensive," Sirius replied, breaking down and laughing as well.
"Ex -- ex -- " Remus tried to get the word out and couldn't. "The front page," he gasped. "Bring on the sexual rev -- revolution..."
"The only homosexual in Wizarding Britain!" Harry hooted. "Men are going to kiss you on the mouth!"
"They'd better not," Remus added, and rested his forehead against Sirius'. "I'LL END THEM!" he added, and burst into laughter again. "Did you call her a neutered kneazle?"
"And a fester on the populace," Harry said.
"Good use of the word populace. Full marks for vocabulary," Remus said, wiping his eyes. "Oh, Sirius. You are trouble wrapped up in skin. Tomorrow's going to be a nightmare."
"I don't care."
"Well, then I don't either." Remus took his hand and kissed his cheek. "Take me out to dinner."
"With pleasure."
"I just have one question..." Remus said, as they began to walk.
"Only one?"
"Did you seriously use the word lover?"
***
The next morning, Sirius was woken with a tremendous hangover by Andromeda banging on his bedroom door.
"SIRIUS AEDELBERT BLACK!" she shouted. "REMUS JOHN LUPIN! YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"
"Oh god," Remus moaned. "Make it go away."
"I can't," Sirius replied.
"I think I'm still drunk."
"I'm not. Stay here."
Sirius threw a dressing-gown around his shoulders and pulled some trousers on, opening the door. Andromeda thrust a fistful of Howlers under his nose.
"They're going to explode soon and I won't be responsible," she said. Sirius took them and flung them out the window.
"Let 'em," he grumbled. "Where's tea?"
She held it out to him with her other hand, and he kissed her cheek. She leaned around his shoulder.
"Remus, get up."
"Can't," Remus groaned, burying himself in the blankets.
"Remus, you want to see this."
Sirius heard bedsprings creak, and then the rustle of clothing. He gently shoved Andromeda out into the hall and felt Remus touch his shoulder, following blearily.
They emerged into a living room full of owls. They were perched on couches and chairs, on the light fixtures, on the mantelpiece. Somewhere in all the piles of owl were Harry and Dora, Anne, Julian, Ted, and the rest of the werewolves.
When the owls saw him, as one they dropped the letters they were holding and flew out through every available window. Feathers drifted down in the silence that followed.
"They were waiting for you," Andromeda said. "Though a bunch already left."
"What time is it?" Remus said.
"Noon or so."
"Jesus Christ!"
"You're such a Muggle," Sirius said, leaning back to kiss him. Harry, sitting in the middle of a pile of opened envelopes, snorted.
"I like this one," Anne said to Harry, passing it across.
"Dear Mr. Black," Harry started.
"Oh no..." Sirius said.
"This morning I read the newspaper," Harry continued, "And then I kissed my wife. Best wishes for the wedding. Love, Andrea."
"Wedding?" Remus asked in alarm.
"I think it was figurative," Sirius said. "Do you want to get married?"
"No, and even if it were legal, werewolves need special pass. Do you?"
"No."
"Fine then. Living in sin forever," Remus said, flopping onto one of the recently owl-infested couches.
"Dear Mr. Black, this morning I read the newspaper and then I kissed my wife. Just because. Yours sincerely, Eric Jackson," Dora said. "Well, that's nice of him."
Julian held up another. "Dear Harry Potter, Will you go to the dance with me. That's a bit sick, he's only thirteen," he said. "Still, well-intentioned I'm sure. Oh, the kid's only fourteen himself. That's all right."
"Dear Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, I think you are -- well, not all of them are kind," Ted added hastily. He picked up another and opened it. "Here we go. Mr. Lupin, I knew you weren't a valet and we all had bets on when everyone would find out. I won the pool. We think you are adorable. I am a..." he squinted. "Bad handwriting...oh! I am a barman at the Owl's Roost in Knockturn Alley and if you ever want a drink ask for Nathan. You can bring Mr. Black too."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked.
"Some people like a well-groomed man," Remus said loftily, taking a handful of letters from Ted. "Here's one for you, Sirius, and there's a photog -- oh, my." He tucked the photo back in the letter and hastily put it in the envelope.
"This one's from Anthony," Harry said, eyebrows rising.
"Who's Anthony?" Andromeda asked.
"He just left Hogwarts, he was in Ravenclaw."
"Anthony Leeson?" Remus asked. "Let me see."
"Tall bloke, messy hair?" Sirius asked.
"That's the one, he played Beater for Ravenclaw for two years. Dear Professor Lupin, I fancied you for six months..." Remus blushed. "...but now that I know you have a boyfriend I've decided to fancy someone else instead. I reckon you'll get a lot of letters so if you get any from people who like Quidditch and Herbology please forward them. Cheeky bastard. Too clever for his own good by half."
"They're still coming," Ted said, as another letter flew in the window. "And there's Howlers, too."
"Let 'em howl," Sirius replied.
"It'll be trouble sooner or later," Remus said. "I did warn you."
"Well, every time someone's nasty to us, show 'em a letter," Sirius said. "Go on then, give me one." He unfolded the letter and scanned it. "Merlin, this one wrote a novel."
Dora burst out laughing, and everyone looked at her. She waved an envelope that was marked TRANSATLANTIC EXPRESS.
"You've been asked to Fire Island for the summer," she said, giggling. "Apparently the American papers covered it too, or someone in America gets the Prophet."
"And....an advert for a bath house in Exeter. I had no idea bath-houses even still existed," Ted said.
"When did you go to a bath-house ever?" Andromeda asked.
"Never, my own," Ted assured her.
"Dear Sirius Black," Harry said, holding a thick piece of parchment and frowning. The others heard the tone of his voice and fell silent. "My daddies say they would vote for you for Minister for Magic. They said I should write to you because this morning Daddy Alex brought over all his boxes and he's moving in with us and they say it's your fault. I hope you have a nice day. Sincerely, Maggie." He offered it to Sirius. "She's five."
Remus rubbed his eyes.
"Are you crying, you big nancy?" Sirius asked.
"I'm hung over," Remus replied, sniffling.
"Budge down," Sirius said, prodding him, and sat down next to him.
"It's not a revolution," Remus said. "After a few days things'll die down and go back to the way they were. You know that, don't you?"
"Not for Maggie and her daddies," Andromeda said. "Or for you, I guess."
"Slow revolutions are better," Sirius decided. "Pass us some letters, Harry." From below, the indistinct sound of bursting Howlers drifted up, but they were too far away to be heard clearly. "I want to see if there are any more naughty photographs. I think I'll send them to Rita Skeeter."
***
All this being said, Remus does end up leaving Hogwarts, mainly because he has Harry to consider. Dumbledore is more than willing to keep him on and fight for his rights, but Remus feels it's better for Hogwarts if he steps down.
Continue Onwards To Books Four, Five, and Six.
Turns out I had a lot more notes than I expected. I even had scenes to share.
This is a summary of what I had been planning to write, to finish this project. Some of it is a bit vague, and some of it has been adjusted to take in the last two books, which were published after this plotting was finished. I hope you enjoy it; I present it both with pride for what it is, and with my apologies that it isn't all it could be.
THE RIVER HOUSE:
A couple of the River House stories went unfinished, so I thought I'd toss those in first.
TYRANNOSAURUS WAS A BEAST:
Harry's tenth birthday yields a particular surprise; a rare trip outside of Llangynog district, to the Natural History Museum in London. There is, of course, a secret door that leads to the Wizarding wing, which has MOVING dinosaur skeletons and lots of snakes for Harry. The gist of this story was that Remus had invited Snape to come see Harry, so Snape slunk around the exhibits watching Harry have a good time, and was satisfied that the boy was being properly raised.
THE LOST OWL:
Lucius Malfoy beat Sirius to finding Peter after the deaths of the Potters because Remus, who was meant to leave for Rome the previous day, sent Sirius on a wrong turning. Remus didn't leave because his ticket-money was late; his ticket-money was late because the post owl went astray; and the post owl went astray because it was knocked off course by a mysterious broomstick-riding figure. That's really all there is to this one -- it's just a vivid description of the reason that the two stories, canon and Laocoon's Children, branched. I'll come back to this one in the summary of book seven.
And onwards we go...
BOOK THREE: The Rest Of The Story.
I do have the opening of the next chapter, quite a bit of it actually.
***
With no plans to retaliate against the Twins for their prank during the Qudditch game, May stretched out before Harry as an unending month of study and work, swotting for exams in June and practicing Quidditch for the Cup against Gryffindor. Padma was too busy studying to help them plot pranks of any kind, and Neville swung wildly between studying madly and worrying incessantly. Harry dreaded to think what a wreck Neville might become when they had OWLs and not just regular Hogwarts exams.
He spent a lot of time with Draco, out on the Quidditch pitch, generally when neither of their captains could catch them though Madam Hooch insisted on being present when any student was practicing. The Dementors liked to drift over and skulk in corners, though they didn't like her whistle and would generally disperse if she blew it.
Draco needed help learning to react to the precision flight of the Firebolt, and Harry just plain loved to fly on it. Draco had already said he could borrow it for the Cup, so it was just as well he was learning too -- the Firebolt was meant for adults in professional play, and could be tricky about braking and sudden turns.
"Well, that bollockses the rest of the afternoon," Draco said, leaning on Harry's Nimbus and staring up at the clouds beginning to gather over Hogwarts. Harry, dismounting the Firebolt carefully, followed his gaze. "It's going to rain soon."
"We can practice in the rain, it'll be good," Harry said. "The Cup's two days away, what if it rains during the game?"
"Sod that, I'm not getting rained on for the sake of you winning the Cup," Draco answered with a grin. "Come on, Harry, let's go inside and get something to eat."
"Time to go in, boys," Madam Hooch called, forestalling any argument Harry could have made. She brought her broomstick down next to them and dismounted. "You've done good work, Potter, but Professor McGonagall thinks you're neglecting your studies. Mustn't ignore lessons for Quidditch; you might play for England in a few years' time but you'd better have an education when you get out of it."
"I study!" Harry protested.
"Good; now study more. Think how ashamed Professor Lupin will be if you don't pass your Defence exam," she said, giving them a gentle shove. Harry sulked a little as they hung up their broomsticks, until a thought crossed his mind.
"Do you suppose Madam Hooch knows about Remus and Sirius?" he asked Draco, stepping back outside. The promised rain had begun, just a drizzle for now but intensifying every minute.
"Maybe," Draco said. "Doubt it, though. Why would she know?"
"She's friends with McGonagall. McGonagall definitely knows. I don't think it's as big a secret as they think it is," Harry added. "I mean, people must be able to put two and two together."
"Why should they? That kind of thing doesn't happen a lot in the Wizarding World."
"Says who?" Harry demanded. "It's just not talked about, but I bet there's loads of men like my parents."
"Well, don't snarl at me about it, I couldn't care less. If people don't talk about it then they probably don't even know much about it, so they don't think about it. Anyway, the people who do add it up probably keep shut about it because they'd be accused of thinking about it too much."
"Now I'm thinking about it too much. You don't reckon the kitchen has cold butterbeer, do you? This rain's awfully humid," Harry complained.
"Bet the elves would go down to Hogsmeade and get us some," Draco said. "In fact...Dobby! Dobby, are you around?"
There was a soft pop, and Dobby appeared in front of them so suddenly that they had to stop walking. He was holding a dish in one hand and a towel in the other, obviously in the middle of doing the washing-up.
"Master Draco summons Dobby?" he squeaked excitedly.
"Well, not if you're busy," Draco said, eyeing the plate.
"Dobby is just doing the washing, but Master Sirius Black is not at home, and Dobby can wash it later," Dobby said. "What is Master Draco requiring?"
"We're going up to the library," Draco said. Harry glanced at him, frowning. They weren't supposed to have food in the library. "I need you to bring us something."
Dobby bowed, nearly dropping the plate.
"Please go down to Hogsmeade...here," Draco dug a Galleon out of his pocket. "And get us some butterbeer? And then very, very quietly bring it to me in the library? But put the plate back first."
"Butterbeer, quiet in the library," Dobby said determinedly. "And put the plate back first. Dobby will be doing it, Master Draco!"
"Thank you," Draco said, and Dobby disappeared again. The rain began to fall harder, and Draco pulled the back of his jumper over his head, protecting his face. "Come on Harry, we'd better run for it."
Behind them, the grass began to bend and ripple as the rain fell in earnest.
***
The day of the Cup match dawned clear, despite the heavy rain that had begun on Friday and poured throughout Saturday. Rosmerta took it as a good sign; lots of people would be in town for the match, and if it was clear but muddy they would want to stay in one place to drink. She put mud-brushes at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, scrubbed the place until it shone, and listened on short-wave Floo broadcast as the game got underway. Rosmerta was not an enormous follower of the game, but its outcome generally affected her income, so she made a point to have the matches on when she was likely to get a crowd. People began to arrive during the game too, of course, but on a day like this most would either be at the match or (wisely) at home and under good cover.
"Reckon that Flint fellow be recruited?" one of her regulars asked, sipping his drink at the bar. On the floo broadcast, the game entered its second, determined, and score-tied hour.
"I don't see why," she replied. "From all I've heard, he's not terribly good, is he?"
"Nah," the man answered. "Made a good go of the team, though. Slytherin been well-night unbeatable this year, eh?"
Rosmerta shrugged just as Lee Jordan's voice, coming over the Wizarding Wireless, picked up in tempo and pitch. Both of them listened intently as the noise began to grow to include the shouts of the crowd in the stands. When the shouting deafened Jordan entirely, Rosmerta switched it off and smiled.
"Stick around," she said. "Sirius Black will be here soon, and you don't want to miss it."
People did begin to arrive a short time later, trickling in at first as the early-leavers arrived and then pouring in as the honoured guests, parents, and professors who had remained behind to congratulate their students realised that what they really wanted was a hot drink to stave off the damp and somewhere loud to re-live the game. A couple of seventh-year students crept in as well, having snuck off from school, and Rosmerta kindly ignored them as a graduation gift.
HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE
The door burst open and a crowd of people pushed their way inside, shaking rain from their heads and stuffing umbrellas into the Quick-Dry Charmed Umbrella Stand near the entryway. Sirius Black was in the middle of the group, conducting a pair of seventh-years in a version of the school song that Rosmerta heard far more often than the hallowed halls of Hogwarts every would. Professor Lupin leaned on his shoulder, looking a little less exuberant than the rest, hand clenching Sirius' cloak tightly.
WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR SEVEN YEARS
IT'S TIME WE BUSTED FREE!
OUR HEADS HAVE HAD THEIR FILLING
WE'RE BORED OUT OF OUR SOCKS
AND NOW WE'D LIKE TO FILL OUR THROATS
WITH FIREWHISKEY SHOTS!
She began lining up glasses on the counter as they crowded around the bar, hooting and grinning. A few grim-looking Gryffindor parents in the back seemed as though they were trying to be good sports.
WE'D LIKE TO FIND SOME WOMEN
AND SHOW THEM WHAT WE KNOW
WE HAVE THE FINEST WANDS AROUND
AND THEY KNOW HOW TO -- OH!
HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS
SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE!
The rest of the bar burst into applause. Sirius bowed deeply; Rosmerta saw Remus Lupin stagger as Sirius' arm suddenly threw him off balance.
"Drinking already, Professor?" she asked, over the noise.
"Bad example! Never. I've been ill," he replied. He certainly looked it; his cheeks were flushed with excitement but his skin was pale and his bright eyes were slightly sunken, as if he hadn't been sleeping quite right.
"That's right," Sirius said, turning back to the bar. "Rosmerta. Beautiful corrupter of my youth. Something hot and bracing for Lupin, and a round of firewhisky shots for any who want them. My Harry's won the Cup!"
"I heard," Rosmerta grinned. "I thought you might be by. I never thought I'd see the day you celebrated a Slytherin victory, Sirius Black."
"Tease me now, while I'm in a good mood," he said cheerfully. "And toast, will you?"
"I most certainly will," she said, pouring a small glass of firewhisky for herself and holding it up. Lupin picked up the hot toddy she'd made him and touched rims; Sirius tipped his shot glass against hers.
"To Harry Potter," he said. "The fastest, smartest, keenest boy to ever ride a broomstick!"
"Harry Potter," Rosmerta agreed, taking barely time for the shot before someone tried to get her attention at the other end of the bar.
Slytherin green was everywhere and the parents of Slytherins tended to be wealthy people who wanted interesting drinks; if Gryffindor had won she could have poured beer until dawn and everyone would have been happy, but by the time she'd set up the charms to mix drinks and colour the vodka green and distribute the rum only to those who could really and truly handle rum, Lupin's glass was dry.
"Another hot toddy for you, luv?" she asked.
"Easy on the firewhiskey," he said, nodding. "And nothing stronger than butterbeer for Sirius."
"Oi! We've won the Cup. It's practically traditional to get roaring drunk and mortify myself in public," Sirius replied.
"When you're seventeen, perhaps. Can we settle for only a little drunk and skip the public mortification?" Lupin asked. He coughed, and Sirius looked guilty, though Rosmerta couldn't see why Sirius Black should feel guilty that Professor Lupin was ill.
"Well, I suppose the rest of 'em can do the drinking for me. Sure you're all right, mate?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Lupin said, as Rosmerta pretended to busy herself with the hot water for the toddy. His voice dropped lower and she could only make out a few words; see the Cup from Lupin, and something about two days before from Black. Still, Lupin did seem to perk up a little as he sipped his drink, and Black took advantage of the packed pub to lead another scurrilous anthem.
Oh, there was a maid who loved young Will,
A farmer in Hogsmeade town,
But she was a student on the hill,
And ne'er was allowed to go down, go down,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
So she took the kit of a local boy,
And a fair young lad made she,
But her hair she could not hide away,
For a hat she was in need, in need,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
"I'm quite fond of this one," Lupin said to Rosmerta, as Sirius bellowed the nonsense words. "It's not very clever or original, but it's one of the few where nobody dies of love or gets stabbed in a duel."
Rosmerta, who had been noticing that Sirius Black's hand was in the small of his best friend's back and creeping downward, glanced up at him.
"What do you suppose whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay means?" she asked.
"Couldn't tell you. Probably they meant to go back in and put in real words later."
She took up a hat laying on a shelf,
And placed it upon her head,
Did she know not it was a Sorting Hat,
She did not know, she did, she did,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
And her young Will saw her on the road,
A fair boy he thought was she,
So out he called, will ye rest, young boy,
Under the tall oak tree, with me,
Sing whack-fol-a-riddle-alla-tay!
Young Will took hold of the fair boy's sleeve,
And kissed him on the cheek,
And the Sorting Hat cried IT'S YOUR TRUE LOVE!
And Will shouted, OH BUGGER ME! BUGGER ME!
SING WHACK-FOL-A-RIDDLE-ALLA-TAY!
Rosmerta saw Lupin laugh and toast to the singers with the last of his toddy, but it looked suspiciously as though Sirius Black was the only person in the entire room that he personally gave tuppence about. Before she could ruminate on what precisely this might mean, a flashbulb popped and Sirius turned suddenly.
"You!" he said, pointing with an empty shot glass at the photographer in the doorway. A woman was standing just behind him, quill and parchment in her hand. "Sod on off out of here before I break that!"
"Ah, you can't keep the press out," the woman behind the photographer called.
"Watch me!" Sirius retorted, and with a flick of his wand the door closed on the camera and, once the horrified photographer had pulled it out of the repeatedly-slamming door, latched itself. The rest of the room broke into applause.
"One more round on me," Sirius said, even as he took his cloak off the hook by the door.
"Leaving already?" someone called.
"I'll let you lot carry on till dawn," Sirius said with a laugh. "Come on, Lupin, let's get you home, and then I'm off to see if the Cannons have recruited Harry yet. Besides, that Skeeter's bound to skullk round the back. Tell her for me," he said, and the room fell silent, "Tell her for me that if she can write one coherent word about Quidditch on her own, I'll pay her thirty Galleons."
Rosmerta smiled fondly on the pair of friends as they left. She had watched many students grow up and go off into the world and come back to celebrate their childrens' triumphs in her pub, but it had to be said that there was nobody quite like Sirius Black.
***
"How're you feeling?" Sirius asked, as he and Remus walked slowly down the rutted road towards the house overlooking Creadonagh Valley.
"A bit tired, but not too bad," Remus replied. "I'm grateful I shan't have to teach on Monday. Ollivander's coming up on Sunday to get my notes, by the by. I've told him I'll meet him at Hogwarts."
"You couldn't have him come down to the house?"
"I think we've been indiscreet enough lately, don't you?" Remus asked gently. "We'll have all of Saturday together, and I won't be gone long on Sunday. And you can look after me and stuff me with food all day on Monday." He shivered a little as the wind blew against them, and Sirius threw his arm around his shoulder.
"Did you see Harry looking for us after he won?" Sirius asked, trying to keep Remus' spirits high. "Did you see him wave the cup at you?"
"I'm fairly sure he was waving it at you," Remus replied.
"Us, then."
"Us," Remus agreed, stopping at the crest of the gentle slope that led down to the house. He shaded his eyes against the orange glow which was all that remained of the sunset. Sirius ran his fingers up the back of his neck, threading them through his hair. Remus closed his eyes and smiled.
"Reckon we'll have to begin closing it up soon," Sirius said. Remus opened his eyes, glancing at him. "Bound for Betwys Beddau in a few weeks. Strange life, eh?"
"Wouldn't trade it," Remus said, thinking of the dreams he'd had, dreams in which he was always cold, and Sirius was never there. He leaned forward impulsively and kissed Sirius -- a kiss that drew on until Sirius gently stepped back, stroking his cheek.
"Me either. Come on, I'll -- did you see that?" Sirius asked suddenly. Remus glanced at him.
"See what?"
"I thought I saw something in the hedge..." Sirius released him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder before crossing the road to investigate, wand at the ready.
"Probably just a bird or something," Remus called. "Leave it alone, scavenger."
"I'm sure it was bigger than that," Sirius replied.
"Well, then a deer, maybe. Sirius, come away from the undergrowth," Remus said, unsteadily joining him and tugging one shoulder. Sirius, peering into the blackness, shook his head.
"Lucius Malfoy's still out there," he said reproachfully.
"Yes, and if you go hurtling through the darkened forest after him you're liable to get yourself killed. Then I'd have to fill out all this paperwork, and pick you out a burial plot, all of which is an enormous waste of my very valuable time," Remus said, as Sirius reluctantly moved away and began walking down the road once more.
"Don't bury me somewhere," Sirius said. Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"That wasn't the conversation I wanted to have."
"I mean it, though. Don't Muggles donate their bodies to Science? I want to do that. I'll donate my body to Magic," Sirius said. "Besides, it'll be one up the nose of my family."
"Your family -- Sirius, your family is me and Harry and the Tonkses."
"Well, you know what I mean." Sirius kicked a rock, which thumped down the road and collided with their front door. "All the Blacks are buried in a giant crypt. Dad used to take us there sometimes."
"I remember you saying something about that at school. Isn't your mum there?" Remus asked. He did not have pleasant memories of Mrs. Black.
"Last one ever, far as I'm concerned. When I die, call up St. Mungo's and ask them if they have any use for a handsome daredevil animagus."
"You're so sure I'll outlive you?" Remus asked, unlocking the door.
"All right, what do you want done with your carcass when you die?"
"I don't want to think about it, thanks."
"You won't have to! You'll be all lazy and quiet in your casket and I'm going to have to think about it," Sirius replied, slipping out of his shoes and helping Remus out of his heavy cloak.
"Let's talk about something else," Remus said. "Weren't we discussing Betwys Beddau?"
"Yes, and I've had an idea," Sirius said, flopping down onto the sofa in the living room. "I'll make you a deal."
"Nothing good ever starts with the phrase I'll make you a deal."
"Hear me out! I'll buy a shop in Hogsmeade next year and open it up, but in return, you have to be a gentleman of leisure all summer long. No bookstore clerking, no tea-pouring, no gainful employment."
Remus sat in the large soft chair by the window, relaxing joint by joint, eyes closed. "I like to work. What would I do with all the spare time?"
"I can think of one or two things," Sirius answered, flopping down on the floor next to his legs. Remus' hand strayed down to stroke his hair. "Maybe more than two."
Remus could feel himself dozing off, slipping away from the house and Sirius into blissful darkness. His muscles wouldn't hurt when he was asleep; if he could, he'd sleep until the full moon was over and school was finished, and they were on the train to Betwys Beddau.
***
He woke in the dark, uncertain where he was at first, conscious that he'd dozed off in the chair -- or had he been in the Forest already when it happened? He was in the forest now...
He pushed himself up off the leafmould that carpeted the Forest floor, the sharp damp bark cutting into his palms, dirt clinging to the skin of his chest and hips. He drew his legs up under him, finding himself naked, vulnerable...weak. Subject to the cold, his body already shaking with fatigue, the sun in entirely the wrong place. Only a minute ago it had been going down over Creadonagh Valley...
And now it was rising in the east, cutting through the trees.
No, he hadn't fallen asleep in the chair, he had been...standing for the Change, and Harry had been there, and so had Sirius.
He moaned and pressed his hands to his face, rocking back and forth. It was one of those dreams, the dreams where he touched a man across some invisible divide, where he looked in on a cold and dark world where he was always scrabbling and struggling and starving. He wished desperately to wake up; he had no desire to share in the other man's misery. He wished he would go away, or die, or something. He wished he could die now.
No, the other him wished he could die...he had betrayed Sirius and Harry, and he had ruined everything. They'd had Peter right where they wanted him and Sirius was going to go free and he'd be allowed to take Harry away from the horrible people who were raising him, and then he, stupid, stupid Remus Lupin, had forgotten the potion and ruined it all.
He felt his body bend back to the earth, pressing his face against his arm, and hot tears poured down over his skin, helpless tears of wrath and frustration.
"Moony?"
He looked up, but it wasn't Sirius standing there; strangest of all strange things, it was Albus Dumbledore. And he was speaking in Sirius' voice.
"Moony," Albus Dumbledore said, in Sirius Black's voice. "You're a disaster, mate."
He opened his eyes, again, and...
***
...looked up at Sirius, clean shaven, the hollows in his cheeks filled out, eyes bright, silky curly hair falling in his face. His Sirius.
"You've been napping. Come on, up to bed with you," Sirius said, and Remus banished the other poor bastard from his mind, allowing Sirius not only to support him up the stairs but to gropingly feel his bum on the way.
***
The Cup match had been played and it was difficult for the teams especially to remember that there was nearly another month of school still to go; Harry found himself restless, and knew that his teammates were as well. Even the normally quiet Draco strained at the restrictive leash a little, and the professors in general had trouble keeping control over their classes.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, was the most well-behaved class in the history of Hogwarts. The Monday after the full moon saw Ollivander substitute teaching -- the Ollivander, who not only already knew the names of everyone in the school but what wands they used and what the core was. He was strange and eerie and the children, even the big seventh-years, stood in complete awe of him. He taught faithfully from Professor Lupin's notes, drilling the students for their exams, but at the end of each class there would be fifteen or twenty minutes to spare, and he would lean back against the desk and give short, oddly mystical lectures about the properties of wands and their relationship to their makers and users.
"Many of you have heard me say," he said, while Harry passed a note to Neville about pick-up Quidditch that afternoon, "that the owner does not choose the wand, but the wand its owner. This is one of many things in your life for which no proof will be provided, and must be accepted on faith."
***
And that's where I stopped writing. I don't remember where I was going with Ollivander's lesson but I am sure it would have been awesome. This chapter was going to cover final exams, as well, and end with Draco being kidnapped by Lucius (in the same way Ron was kidnapped by Sirius at the end of the real book).
Harry and company were going to follow Lucius' trail back to the Shrieking Shack. In the Shrieking Shack I'd planned for a quite terrifying visual of Lucius stroking Draco's head, being very paternal towards him, creepily paternal, as he waits for Harry to arrive. He wanted Draco back, of course, but Harry is his real target because Harry can be used to find the Dark Lord. Lucius explains also that he's an animagus, a white snake -- Peter, who is in-fucking-sane, came to him as a rat in Azkaban and taught him animagery, and that's how he escaped.
There's a fight, in which Draco is more or less useless because he's scared out of his mind, but Padma and Harry manage to escape when Padma grabs Harry and gives the time-turning a quick flick.
Having jumped back in time, Padma and Harry face down the dementors on their way from the Shrieking Shack to Hogwarts, in an attempt to get help. They manage to make it only as far as Remus and Sirius's house. Remus and Sirus, of course, go charging into the fray and get their asses kicked, because Peter is incredibly strong. The problem is that Peter wants to slaughter Remus, Sirius, and the children, including Draco, because he only needs Harry. Peter and Lucius begin to infight, and the adults manage to get free and stage a second attack. Peter, reluctantly, flees; Lucius manages to escape as a snake, leaving Draco behind. It's also admitted at some point during this that Lucius is the one who gave Draco the Firebolt.
This is a scene from when they give chase, after Sirius has been wounded. They're in the forest and encounter some centaurs...
***
Remus stood slowly, holding up his hands. Several of the centaurs notched their arrows.
"We don't mean to trespass," he said slowly.
"You," the dark-haired one said. "You are on Centaur grounds."
"I know, and I'm sorry. Look," Remus held out his wrists. "You know the scent. We've been here before. You know we don't interfere with the Centaurs."
Harry held his breath. Remus swallowed and continued.
"We were chasing a trespasser," he said. "Peter Pettigrew."
Silence. In the quiet of the forest, Harry could hear the bowstrings tightening.
"The man who destroyed the Mirror of Ynitsed," he blurted, clutching Sirius' shirt tightly. A low murmur rippled through the herd.
"That's right," Remus agreed. "We were hunting him. If you find him he's yours, but there are children -- look," he said, gesturing at Harry. "My -- my foal. And three others. And my mate -- "
"Your mate?" the dark-haired one scoffed.
"Yes. He's hurt. Please. Do what you like with me, but give them safe passage. The children and my mate. Please," Remus said. Harry had never heard Remus beg before. "Please -- "
There was the twang of an arrow being loosed, but at the same time the thud of hooves, and Harry heard a sickening thud as the arrow found flesh. He waited for Remus' scream of pain, but it didn't come; instead, when he looked up, a pale white body stood between Remus and the herd.
"Get out of the way, Firenze," the dark-haired centaur snarled. A palomino centaur, his hair white-blond and tied back with a leather strap, stood shuddering in front of Remus. As Harry watched, he reached backwards and pulled the arrow out of his flank.
"We do not shoot colts," he said, snapping the arrow in half. Harry saw blood dripping down one leg.
"That -- half-breed is not a colt!"
"He is protecting his get, the same as we would," Firenze answered defiantly. "He did not come here to defy us. If you kill the man and his get, you will have to step over my body to do so."
Several of the bows lowered. Firenze turned his head.
"Is it true you came hunting the man who destroyed the mirror?" he asked.
"I swear to you," Remus said. Harry felt Sirius' heart speed up, and knew that he was waking. He pressed one hand over his mouth in warning.
"And the children?"
"Victims of the man. Take me as a hostage if you don't believe me, just let Harry go."
"There will be no hostages, werewolf," Firenze said. "I remember your scent. Twenty years ago I remember a hunt with your pack. You were a cub then."
Sirius moved his arms. Harry leaned close to his ear.
"Don't move," he whispered. Sirius nodded and fell still.
"Any Centaur who harms a child in this forest will answer to me," Firenze said loudly. His voice echoed back eerily. "The colt will go now."
Harry felt Remus pull him away, and he struggled.
"Go, Harry," Remus whispered. "Run. Run fast and don't look back. We'll come for you. You promised you'd do as I told you. Run!"
He shoved Harry and the momentum put his feet on the path; once moving he could no more have stayed and fought than he could have sprouted wings. He heard crunching behind him, hooves on dead leaves, but he didn't dare turn around.
***
The time travel in this version is purely to free Buckbeak, and sort of a side-plot; Padma also gives up the time-turner like Hermione did, though I think I possibly planned to have it confiscated from her for misuse, I can't quite recall.
At the end of the third book, Remus and Sirius get outed. Skeeter had snapped a photo of them kissing -- you saw that in the earlier scene -- and intends to blackmail Sirius with it, but her plan backfires. This I have written as a scene, starting from the moment Sirius loses his patience for blackmail.
***
"Hell with this," Sirius said, and crossed the space between himself and Skeeter with startling speed. He plucked her up by her robes as if she weighed nothing at all, and her feet dangled a few inches off the ground.
"You listen to me and you put this in that bloody gossip rag of yours, or so help me I'll squash you like the insignificant insect you are," he said, while she struggled in his grip. "I am Sirius Black, paterfamilias of the House of Black, godfather of the Boy Who Lived. I am in love with -- there -- that man, Remus Lupin, and if anyone comes near him or my son or me I will kill them to protect my family. If my son suffers, I will kill them, if my lover suffers, I will kill them, and if anyone so much as dares to say a word against me the wrath of the house of Black will descend on them and everyone they love."
Behind her, Rita's quill was moving madly. She opened her mouth and he dropped her, covering her lips with one hand and still holding onto her robes with the other.
"You tell the world who I love," he said. "You tell the world that man is not a valet or a tutor, he is the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. And then you make bloody godsdamn sure they know what I'll do for the people I love. And if you don't tell the world that I love my family and I don't care who knows it, I will kill you. I will kill you. This is not an idle threat."
He released her and she staggered backwards, wiping her mouth.
"The scoop of the century," she said, catching her breath.
"You want a scoop?" Sirius roared. "YOU WANT A SCOOP? You bleeding sore, you fester on the populace? You think I'm the only homosexual in Wizarding Britain? There are thousands of men who would kill to be in my bed. There are women by the score who are going to read what you say on the front page of that cheap bumwipe you work for and turn to their wives and kiss them over breakfast. There are men who will come up to me on the street and kiss me on the mouth. There are boys fifteen years old who will read your words and go up to the boy of their dreams and ask them to the dance because Sirius Black likes men too. You want a scoop, you neutered kneazle? You'll have a bloody sexual revolution! And I say bring it on! So you had better say it, or I will buy the Prophet and burn it to the ground and bury you in the ashes. I will end you."
He snatched the quill and parchment out of the air and thrust it at her. When she hesitated, he drew close again.
"Take it, or I'll choke you with it."
She snatched the parchment out of his hands and bolted.
"READ THAT AND REMEMBER!" he shouted after her, as she ran.
With the roar of his pulse dying in his ears, Sirius caught his breath and became aware of a deep, impenetrable silence. He looked behind him; Remus was standing a few paces away, Harry in front of him. His arms were wrapped protectively around Harry's shoulders, and both of them were staring at him in jaw-dropped amazement.
"I swear to god if you don't kiss me -- " Sirius began, but Remus had already come forward and cut him off in mid-breath with a kiss.
"I love you," Remus said.
"Yeah, well, read the Prophet tomorrow and you'll know what I think about you," Sirius replied, and Remus smiled. "Harry, c'mere."
Harry came forward, smiling uncertainly. Sirius pulled him into the embrace, stroking his hair. They stood there until Remus began to laugh.
"This is not how I expected to come out," he said, around his laughter. "Front page of the Prophet!"
"Well, it was that or take out an advert, and adverts are expensive," Sirius replied, breaking down and laughing as well.
"Ex -- ex -- " Remus tried to get the word out and couldn't. "The front page," he gasped. "Bring on the sexual rev -- revolution..."
"The only homosexual in Wizarding Britain!" Harry hooted. "Men are going to kiss you on the mouth!"
"They'd better not," Remus added, and rested his forehead against Sirius'. "I'LL END THEM!" he added, and burst into laughter again. "Did you call her a neutered kneazle?"
"And a fester on the populace," Harry said.
"Good use of the word populace. Full marks for vocabulary," Remus said, wiping his eyes. "Oh, Sirius. You are trouble wrapped up in skin. Tomorrow's going to be a nightmare."
"I don't care."
"Well, then I don't either." Remus took his hand and kissed his cheek. "Take me out to dinner."
"With pleasure."
"I just have one question..." Remus said, as they began to walk.
"Only one?"
"Did you seriously use the word lover?"
***
The next morning, Sirius was woken with a tremendous hangover by Andromeda banging on his bedroom door.
"SIRIUS AEDELBERT BLACK!" she shouted. "REMUS JOHN LUPIN! YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"
"Oh god," Remus moaned. "Make it go away."
"I can't," Sirius replied.
"I think I'm still drunk."
"I'm not. Stay here."
Sirius threw a dressing-gown around his shoulders and pulled some trousers on, opening the door. Andromeda thrust a fistful of Howlers under his nose.
"They're going to explode soon and I won't be responsible," she said. Sirius took them and flung them out the window.
"Let 'em," he grumbled. "Where's tea?"
She held it out to him with her other hand, and he kissed her cheek. She leaned around his shoulder.
"Remus, get up."
"Can't," Remus groaned, burying himself in the blankets.
"Remus, you want to see this."
Sirius heard bedsprings creak, and then the rustle of clothing. He gently shoved Andromeda out into the hall and felt Remus touch his shoulder, following blearily.
They emerged into a living room full of owls. They were perched on couches and chairs, on the light fixtures, on the mantelpiece. Somewhere in all the piles of owl were Harry and Dora, Anne, Julian, Ted, and the rest of the werewolves.
When the owls saw him, as one they dropped the letters they were holding and flew out through every available window. Feathers drifted down in the silence that followed.
"They were waiting for you," Andromeda said. "Though a bunch already left."
"What time is it?" Remus said.
"Noon or so."
"Jesus Christ!"
"You're such a Muggle," Sirius said, leaning back to kiss him. Harry, sitting in the middle of a pile of opened envelopes, snorted.
"I like this one," Anne said to Harry, passing it across.
"Dear Mr. Black," Harry started.
"Oh no..." Sirius said.
"This morning I read the newspaper," Harry continued, "And then I kissed my wife. Best wishes for the wedding. Love, Andrea."
"Wedding?" Remus asked in alarm.
"I think it was figurative," Sirius said. "Do you want to get married?"
"No, and even if it were legal, werewolves need special pass. Do you?"
"No."
"Fine then. Living in sin forever," Remus said, flopping onto one of the recently owl-infested couches.
"Dear Mr. Black, this morning I read the newspaper and then I kissed my wife. Just because. Yours sincerely, Eric Jackson," Dora said. "Well, that's nice of him."
Julian held up another. "Dear Harry Potter, Will you go to the dance with me. That's a bit sick, he's only thirteen," he said. "Still, well-intentioned I'm sure. Oh, the kid's only fourteen himself. That's all right."
"Dear Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, I think you are -- well, not all of them are kind," Ted added hastily. He picked up another and opened it. "Here we go. Mr. Lupin, I knew you weren't a valet and we all had bets on when everyone would find out. I won the pool. We think you are adorable. I am a..." he squinted. "Bad handwriting...oh! I am a barman at the Owl's Roost in Knockturn Alley and if you ever want a drink ask for Nathan. You can bring Mr. Black too."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked.
"Some people like a well-groomed man," Remus said loftily, taking a handful of letters from Ted. "Here's one for you, Sirius, and there's a photog -- oh, my." He tucked the photo back in the letter and hastily put it in the envelope.
"This one's from Anthony," Harry said, eyebrows rising.
"Who's Anthony?" Andromeda asked.
"He just left Hogwarts, he was in Ravenclaw."
"Anthony Leeson?" Remus asked. "Let me see."
"Tall bloke, messy hair?" Sirius asked.
"That's the one, he played Beater for Ravenclaw for two years. Dear Professor Lupin, I fancied you for six months..." Remus blushed. "...but now that I know you have a boyfriend I've decided to fancy someone else instead. I reckon you'll get a lot of letters so if you get any from people who like Quidditch and Herbology please forward them. Cheeky bastard. Too clever for his own good by half."
"They're still coming," Ted said, as another letter flew in the window. "And there's Howlers, too."
"Let 'em howl," Sirius replied.
"It'll be trouble sooner or later," Remus said. "I did warn you."
"Well, every time someone's nasty to us, show 'em a letter," Sirius said. "Go on then, give me one." He unfolded the letter and scanned it. "Merlin, this one wrote a novel."
Dora burst out laughing, and everyone looked at her. She waved an envelope that was marked TRANSATLANTIC EXPRESS.
"You've been asked to Fire Island for the summer," she said, giggling. "Apparently the American papers covered it too, or someone in America gets the Prophet."
"And....an advert for a bath house in Exeter. I had no idea bath-houses even still existed," Ted said.
"When did you go to a bath-house ever?" Andromeda asked.
"Never, my own," Ted assured her.
"Dear Sirius Black," Harry said, holding a thick piece of parchment and frowning. The others heard the tone of his voice and fell silent. "My daddies say they would vote for you for Minister for Magic. They said I should write to you because this morning Daddy Alex brought over all his boxes and he's moving in with us and they say it's your fault. I hope you have a nice day. Sincerely, Maggie." He offered it to Sirius. "She's five."
Remus rubbed his eyes.
"Are you crying, you big nancy?" Sirius asked.
"I'm hung over," Remus replied, sniffling.
"Budge down," Sirius said, prodding him, and sat down next to him.
"It's not a revolution," Remus said. "After a few days things'll die down and go back to the way they were. You know that, don't you?"
"Not for Maggie and her daddies," Andromeda said. "Or for you, I guess."
"Slow revolutions are better," Sirius decided. "Pass us some letters, Harry." From below, the indistinct sound of bursting Howlers drifted up, but they were too far away to be heard clearly. "I want to see if there are any more naughty photographs. I think I'll send them to Rita Skeeter."
***
All this being said, Remus does end up leaving Hogwarts, mainly because he has Harry to consider. Dumbledore is more than willing to keep him on and fight for his rights, but Remus feels it's better for Hogwarts if he steps down.
Continue Onwards To Books Four, Five, and Six.
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