(no subject)
Title: Above the thunder
Prompt: above the thunder
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Rubeus Hagrid, Peter Pettigrew, Petunia/Vernon Dursley, and of course the boy who lived - Harry Potter
Word Count: 1,225
Rating: G
Summary: Voldemort has found Lily and James, their friends are left to the aftermath
Author's Notes: Written for my seventh James/Lily prompt at the 7spells fanfiction challenge. My prompt table is here.
Above the thunder
People were celebrating. All over the country there were witches and wizards celebrating and he’d never felt so alone or unhappy in his life.
How could they? How could they light fireworks, send shooting stars into the sky and hold parties? Didn’t they realise?
The world was never going to be the same again. Never. Two of the most incredible people he’d ever known were gone and their son an orphan.
At least, he considered, they’d managed to fit in the christening and Harry would have his Godfather. At least, small compensation that it was for his family.
Remus Lupin, angry, upset, and very very sad let himself out of the house silently. He had no wish today to explain the big red eyes and his tear-stained cheeks and his mother was bound to ask.
***
He didn’t know how he came to be flying towards Godric’s Hollow. It was a feeling more than anything, a whim based on something within his gut. The whole way he’d felt his stomach churning, afraid that what he’d heard would be true, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t be.
If only he’d not persuaded Lily and James to change, if only it had been him. If the Dark Lord had come to him for the information he’d have never given it. It would mean Harry was without a Godfather, of course, but he was presently without parents. How did a Godfather compare then? Better the secret keeper dead than Lily and James.
The first thing he saw was Hagrid, standing amongst piles of rubble and bending as if searching for something. Carefully, but quickly, he circled to lose height and eventually touched down as the giant man came from the wreckage, a bundle of dusty blankets inside of which was lying Harry. Harry James Potter the light of his parents’ lives, an orphan.
Sirius looked at Hagrid and held his arms out. “I’ll take him, Hagrid. I’m his Godfather.”
It was almost more than he could bear when the giant man, tears streaming down his face shook his head and declined. His orders were to take Harry to Dumbledore. Sirius wasn’t up to arguing, he was close to tears, but very angry. Instead he handed over the bike and went to sit on the remains of a wall. They say the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, and waiting to kill this one would be worth any punishment he was dealt.
***
Hagrid looked at Sirius Black, tears streaming down his face as he did so, and once on the charmed motorbike held out his arms for the bundle containing Harry. He’d rather have left the little boy with his Godfather, much rather do that than take him to the Muggles. But orders were orders, and orders from Dumbledore weren’t something he’d ever think of not following. Dumbledore was a great wizard, a wonderful man. He’d know what was best.
It was a fair old journey, Hagrid considered, best thing that little Harry had fallen asleep a few minutes ago. They’d been over Bristol then as far as he could tell, so the chances were they were making their way past Bath now and it wouldn’t be all that long till he had to hand him over. It was only a worry about waking the poor boy that had stopped Hagrid from wailing the whole way. His quieter sobs got carried back over his shoulder on the wind. Harry lying in his nest of blankets, which were looking cleaner now the wind had blown the rubble off them, was oblivious to it all.
Steeply Hagrid landed the bike in the road by Lily Potter’s sister’s house and there was Dumbledore. He’d hoped he might not have been there, that he’d got held up somewhere, or changed his mind and forgotten to say, and that he could have taken the boy back to Sirius, or even to Hogwarts to grow up. There were worst places to be a boy after all.
***
Peter Pettigrew hadn’t fled after he’d destroyed the house. He was telling himself that he was bravely staying where he was to put paid to anyone that happened to turn up, or that he was guarding James and Lily’s bodies, or that he was taking care of Harry, the son of his once best friend. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he was being a coward, that he was going to have to face the wrath of his fellow Death Eaters, or that his own life was at risk as things had gone wrong.
He’d seen Hagrid, the big bumbling oaf, turn up and sift through the rubble, wailing and howling. That probably meant he’d found the bodies, all three of them, that Harry had died too, though he was sure he’d heard him cry a little while ago as one of the walls had collapsed near him. Peter didn’t move from his place to check on the little boy, to keep him safe. Above the thunder of the rubble being thrown around came another sound from the horizon, one he recognised as Sirius Black and his flying motorbike. Peter transformed and slunk back into a crevice in the garden wall. He’d stay for a while, wait till his former friend and the gamekeeper had gone, and then think again. Wherever he was going to go tonight he had no idea, but it would have to be somewhere very safe if he wanted to live to tell the tale one day.
***
“Honesty Vernon,” Petunia Dursley complained when she found empty milk bottles on the kitchen work surface. “You might have reminded me to take those out last night.”
“Not to worry dear,” Vernon replied, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time this morning. “You can take them out now. No harm done.”
If he was perfectly honest Vernon wasn’t feeling entirely comfortable after the very strange happenings of the day before and they were probably entirely responsible for him not having remembered to remind Petunia about the milk bottles. Still, he’d not told her about what he’d thought he heard and that was for the best. He’d not want her upset over her peculiar sister now. They’d got over that sorry business years ago, back when the girl had married that odd husband of hers. Families with afflictions like the younger Evans sister had tended not to talk about them, and that was fine with him.
“I’ll be off then,” he called over his shoulder, reaching into his pocket for the keys to his company car. “Hard day ahead of me-“
What was the ghastly noise? Hurrying to the front door in response to his wife’s scream, all the colour drained from Vernon’s face when he saw what she had. A child, wrapped up in the nastiest blanket he’d ever seen.
“Vernon.”
“Petunia?” Vernon feigned innocence, though something deep within him was quite sure he knew what she was going to say.
“It’s him,” Petunia had placed the bundle on the floor where it was trying hard to escape from its nest. “Her son.” She held up the letter, her face white. “She’s dead, they’re both dead and-“
“And?” asked Vernon, his voice sounding full of impatience and giving the signs he was close to one of his outbursts.
“And he’s come to live with us.”
Prompt: above the thunder
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Rubeus Hagrid, Peter Pettigrew, Petunia/Vernon Dursley, and of course the boy who lived - Harry Potter
Word Count: 1,225
Rating: G
Summary: Voldemort has found Lily and James, their friends are left to the aftermath
Author's Notes: Written for my seventh James/Lily prompt at the 7spells fanfiction challenge. My prompt table is here.
Above the thunder
People were celebrating. All over the country there were witches and wizards celebrating and he’d never felt so alone or unhappy in his life.
How could they? How could they light fireworks, send shooting stars into the sky and hold parties? Didn’t they realise?
The world was never going to be the same again. Never. Two of the most incredible people he’d ever known were gone and their son an orphan.
At least, he considered, they’d managed to fit in the christening and Harry would have his Godfather. At least, small compensation that it was for his family.
Remus Lupin, angry, upset, and very very sad let himself out of the house silently. He had no wish today to explain the big red eyes and his tear-stained cheeks and his mother was bound to ask.
***
He didn’t know how he came to be flying towards Godric’s Hollow. It was a feeling more than anything, a whim based on something within his gut. The whole way he’d felt his stomach churning, afraid that what he’d heard would be true, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t be.
If only he’d not persuaded Lily and James to change, if only it had been him. If the Dark Lord had come to him for the information he’d have never given it. It would mean Harry was without a Godfather, of course, but he was presently without parents. How did a Godfather compare then? Better the secret keeper dead than Lily and James.
The first thing he saw was Hagrid, standing amongst piles of rubble and bending as if searching for something. Carefully, but quickly, he circled to lose height and eventually touched down as the giant man came from the wreckage, a bundle of dusty blankets inside of which was lying Harry. Harry James Potter the light of his parents’ lives, an orphan.
Sirius looked at Hagrid and held his arms out. “I’ll take him, Hagrid. I’m his Godfather.”
It was almost more than he could bear when the giant man, tears streaming down his face shook his head and declined. His orders were to take Harry to Dumbledore. Sirius wasn’t up to arguing, he was close to tears, but very angry. Instead he handed over the bike and went to sit on the remains of a wall. They say the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, and waiting to kill this one would be worth any punishment he was dealt.
***
Hagrid looked at Sirius Black, tears streaming down his face as he did so, and once on the charmed motorbike held out his arms for the bundle containing Harry. He’d rather have left the little boy with his Godfather, much rather do that than take him to the Muggles. But orders were orders, and orders from Dumbledore weren’t something he’d ever think of not following. Dumbledore was a great wizard, a wonderful man. He’d know what was best.
It was a fair old journey, Hagrid considered, best thing that little Harry had fallen asleep a few minutes ago. They’d been over Bristol then as far as he could tell, so the chances were they were making their way past Bath now and it wouldn’t be all that long till he had to hand him over. It was only a worry about waking the poor boy that had stopped Hagrid from wailing the whole way. His quieter sobs got carried back over his shoulder on the wind. Harry lying in his nest of blankets, which were looking cleaner now the wind had blown the rubble off them, was oblivious to it all.
Steeply Hagrid landed the bike in the road by Lily Potter’s sister’s house and there was Dumbledore. He’d hoped he might not have been there, that he’d got held up somewhere, or changed his mind and forgotten to say, and that he could have taken the boy back to Sirius, or even to Hogwarts to grow up. There were worst places to be a boy after all.
***
Peter Pettigrew hadn’t fled after he’d destroyed the house. He was telling himself that he was bravely staying where he was to put paid to anyone that happened to turn up, or that he was guarding James and Lily’s bodies, or that he was taking care of Harry, the son of his once best friend. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he was being a coward, that he was going to have to face the wrath of his fellow Death Eaters, or that his own life was at risk as things had gone wrong.
He’d seen Hagrid, the big bumbling oaf, turn up and sift through the rubble, wailing and howling. That probably meant he’d found the bodies, all three of them, that Harry had died too, though he was sure he’d heard him cry a little while ago as one of the walls had collapsed near him. Peter didn’t move from his place to check on the little boy, to keep him safe. Above the thunder of the rubble being thrown around came another sound from the horizon, one he recognised as Sirius Black and his flying motorbike. Peter transformed and slunk back into a crevice in the garden wall. He’d stay for a while, wait till his former friend and the gamekeeper had gone, and then think again. Wherever he was going to go tonight he had no idea, but it would have to be somewhere very safe if he wanted to live to tell the tale one day.
***
“Honesty Vernon,” Petunia Dursley complained when she found empty milk bottles on the kitchen work surface. “You might have reminded me to take those out last night.”
“Not to worry dear,” Vernon replied, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time this morning. “You can take them out now. No harm done.”
If he was perfectly honest Vernon wasn’t feeling entirely comfortable after the very strange happenings of the day before and they were probably entirely responsible for him not having remembered to remind Petunia about the milk bottles. Still, he’d not told her about what he’d thought he heard and that was for the best. He’d not want her upset over her peculiar sister now. They’d got over that sorry business years ago, back when the girl had married that odd husband of hers. Families with afflictions like the younger Evans sister had tended not to talk about them, and that was fine with him.
“I’ll be off then,” he called over his shoulder, reaching into his pocket for the keys to his company car. “Hard day ahead of me-“
What was the ghastly noise? Hurrying to the front door in response to his wife’s scream, all the colour drained from Vernon’s face when he saw what she had. A child, wrapped up in the nastiest blanket he’d ever seen.
“Vernon.”
“Petunia?” Vernon feigned innocence, though something deep within him was quite sure he knew what she was going to say.
“It’s him,” Petunia had placed the bundle on the floor where it was trying hard to escape from its nest. “Her son.” She held up the letter, her face white. “She’s dead, they’re both dead and-“
“And?” asked Vernon, his voice sounding full of impatience and giving the signs he was close to one of his outbursts.
“And he’s come to live with us.”