Lost Memory: Prologue [Remus/Severus - R]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R (for later chapters)
Pairing(s): One-sided Remus/Lily, one-sided Severus/Lily, Remus/Severus.
Warning(s): Chan(ages ranging from 11-17), Slash/Yaoi
Summery: Harry knew that Severus had loved his mother. He did not know that someone else had as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own Remus, Severus, Harry, Hogwarts, or any other character or place within the confines of the Harry Potter series. The genius belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Critique/Author's Notes: Please. I can already tell that this fanfic will be one of my absolute favorites to write. I hope you will enjoy it on it's long journey ahead (and yes, it will be long), which is always a bonus for the reader.I also still need a beta.
Harry groaned as he reached into a large trunk full of schoolbooks, torn bits of parchment, broken quills and just about anything else you could imagine. He couldn’t help but grin as his hand gripped what looked like dead air but to Harry was his old invisibility cloak.
Chuckling, Harry could only shake his head. James was so like his father and his grandfather that it was near humorous rather than uncanny. Harry recalled that he hadn’t really cleaned out his trunk until what was supposed to be his seventh year at Hogwarts. In light of this, he made it a point to help his sons clean out their trunks. Besides, if he didn’t, his wife- their mother- would definitely have something to say about it. James, who had said he was going to the loo, still hadn’t returned after ten minutes. Harry decided it was safe to say that his eldest son had either fallen in or was not planning on returning anytime soon. He didn’t envy the boy when Ginny found out he’d left his father doing all the work. Not that Harry minded. No, he didn’t mind at all. It served him as his ticket into nostalgia, brought back to the days when he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny roamed the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He grinned as his hand gripped the map that was also passed down from father to son, the map that would show every room in the castle and every person that resided in those rooms. The Marauders’ Map. The map designed by Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs- or as he knew them, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James- his father- the original Marauders. He couldn’t help but frown at the thought of Wormtail. All of them… all of his friends were dead because he’d betrayed him. He then kicked himself mentally. The past was in the past and James, Remus, and Sirius still lived on through them. Through those who had loved them. It didn’t do well to dwell on the past, as Harry had learned first hand several times over. It was as Dumbledore had once said.
You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don’t recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?*
Harry smiled, picking up his wand that lay near the trunk and pressing his wand to it, said the words he hadn’t spoken in quite some time. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He watched as the lines spread out like vines on a house and before long he was looking down at the map, reminiscing. Shaking his head, he pressed his wand to it once more and muttered Mischief managed before setting it aside with his wand, emmiting a soft chuckle. “It’s true,” he said. “He is my son.”
His smile faded though the next moment as he looked into the trunk. In the far-left corner something glinted.
Reaching in, Harry gripped the object and brought it towards him, letting it sit in the palm of his hand as he inspected it. The object was a tiny glass tube, the kind that Muggle scientists often used to hold the substances they used, that held a dropper full of silvery blue liquid. He hardly moved as he just stared at the liquid. There were maybe a few droppers worth of substance, and Harry knew exactly what it was.
But whose? And why in Merlin’s name did James have it. His eyes scanned the corner he’d taken the tube from and sure enough they fell upon a tiny bit of parchment. Slowly, as if the parchment would surely burn him, he picked it up with his other hand. Bringing it close to his face, his eyes skimmed what was a note written in a hasty scrawl that looked familiar. Glancing down at the bottom of the note he nearly dropped the tube.
With renewed curiosity, he read the note, word for word.
I cannot say much here, as I do not have a lot of time. I have a feeling that I will not live to tell you these things. Besides, they are very hard to say, and I wouldn’t know how to begin and so I leave it to these memories to tell you. I hope that you won’t think any less of me, as I care about you so much, and I am indebted to you for making me see the errors of my ways. Dora and Teddy mean the world to me, and you made me see that. If anything happens to me as I fear it will, I want you to help Dora’s mother raise my son. I do hope that what you see will help you understand me just a little more. I am entrusting this to Neville, although I am not certain he is the right person for the job, but he is my only choice. I love you, and let your instincts guide you.
Harry blinked, looking from the note to the tube and then back again. Lupin had wanted him to have these memories? They were to make Harry understand his old professor more? This note had been written twenty years a go, and Neville worked at Hogwarts. Surely he hadn’t forgotten the tube and note for twenty years? Of course, this was Neville, and things always seemed to slip his mind. But something as important as this, surely he would have remembered. He had two of his sons as his students, surely he could have given it to one of them the moment he remembered.
James had to have placed it in his trunk several years ago, probably back in his first year and completely forgot about it. He groaned before looking at the tube. He wasn’t sure he wanted to watch the memories. Surely they would just bring up old tears. Regarding the liquid, he then closed his hand around the tube. It would be an insult to Remus’s memory if he didn’t watch the select memories that his old friend had deemed important for Harry to see.
With a nod to no one in particular, he decided that taking a little break couldn’t hurt. Grabbing his wand, which he’d discarded on the floor next to him, Harry stood up. The note and glass tube secure in his hand, Harry left James’s room and made his way to his study, locking the door behind him.
Somehow he knew that these memories were for him alone.
* Quote, Albus Dumbledore. PoA, Chapter 22, page 427 (paperback version).