Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Her heart screamed at her when she saw his injuries, and it felt almost as if she was inflicted with them as well. Lily felt worry, anxiety, relief, and a comfortableness that frightened her. The foreign feeling was slowly growing in spite of her efforts to stop it, because it made her lose control.
And in this war-torn world, that and her pride were the most precious things that she could afford to keep. He was lying there, dozing, but not really asleep. She stared at his unusually silent form for what seemed like eternity before turning away. She had ruined it.
She had ruined a friendship that could have escalated into great heights, but she squashed it down before it could grow. She tried to be glad; she tried to be happy that she was still a soldier, still unattached to someone who could die at any given moment of the day. She wasn’t stupid, and Lily knew that attachments in war were irrational, unreasonable.
But no matter how she tried to silence the whimpers in her heart, it would not be stifled. She was sick of being the reasonable one, sick of being the rational one. Too many times had she turned down opportunity after opportunity, challenge after challenge, chance after chance…all because of the fear of failure. All because of the fear of loving and losing.
The fear consumed her.
But the redheaded witch wanted to be irrational and unreasonable and fling her cares to wind. She wanted, for once in her existence, to live her life with the impulses and open choices that she had been given. She had been offered a friendship that could last a lifetime…
But that offer was gone. And she wasn’t sure that it would ever knock on her door again.

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“Is there anything?”
“…No. I don’t see any trace of them, Sirius.”
Sirius growled in frustration, as they searched the surrounding forest. The search group had fanned out in two’s; carefully searching for anything that might lead them towards the missing Order members. So far, no one had found anything.
Sirius sighed irritably, as he glanced sourly at the sodden land beneath him. It had stopped raining momentarily, but the fresh smell in the air blocked any smells that might have been left behind, and dissolved any tracks. The heavy clouds also obscured his vision, as there was no light save the dim light of the lantern that Remus carried.
It was as if Lady Fate had indeed been meddling again in mortal affairs. And it seemed as if she was a woman scorned.
A scowl twisted Sirius’ lips, staring up at the cloudy heavens, desperate for a lonely beacon of hope.
But the clouds obscured everything from view. Their fortune was hazy, much like that of James and Lily’s future. However even on the darkest of nights, a small star peeked out and shone its brilliance for all those who were seeking it.

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James shifted, stifling a moan as even the slightest of movement brought a sharp stab of agony through the length of his body. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the pain to pass, and for the darkness to fade from his vision. He blinked up at the ceiling, and frowned. He truly did hate being without his glasses-it made him feel vulnerable, helpless.
Oh well, he couldn’t say that he thought much of the décor anyway.
Lily had scrambled frantically from her position to his side as soon as she saw him shift. She sat back hesitantly on her haunches, nervously chewing on her lip. What was she to say? What was she to do?
She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and silence reared its head once again. She sat absolutely still as James continued to blink at the ceiling.
“Lily,” James rasped.
Finally, Lily could stand it now longer. “I know what you’re going to say, Potter. And I know I deserve it. But look, Pott—James…”
He turned expectantly to her, and she turned her head away, taking a deep breath before facing him again. Emerald met hazel, and she continued. “I-I know that I was a jerk, all right?”
“Lil-”
“No, no, hear me out.” She took another deep breath. “I know I was a git, and a moron, and a prat, and I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you, you don’t know how much I regret them now-”
“Lily…”
“I want us to be friends, James,” She said honestly, earnestly, “I really do, and anytime that I say something stupid like that, just knock me upside the head…so…what do you say?”
James was silent for a few moments, overwhelmed.
Angrily, Lily’s eyes flashed, and her face flushed from the emotion. “I was just being a jealous little witch, what else do you want me to say?”
James gave a small snort of laughter, trying desperately not to break into peals of mirth. “And to think, all this time I just wanted a drink of water.”
Lily flushed a bright crimson to the roots of her hair. “Oh, well,” She fumbled. “I don’t think that you should really drink it, it’s nasty stuff…”
James smiled at her, squinting up at her embarrassed features. “Don’t worry about it Lily. I know that you didn’t mean it. Lets just put it behind us, all right?” His face was suddenly drawn, weary.
For who knew how much time lay before them?
As soon as the expression was there, however, it disappeared, gone behind the jester’s mask that he hid behind so well. Lily gave him a small, hesitant smile in response, and it slowly grew wider until it nearly lit the cell with its brightness.
James felt his own smile tugging at his lips. I would do anything, Lils, anything, to get you to smile like that at me all the time…
Lily’s smile lessened somewhat, becoming gentler. “I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, James. I…I—”
The cell door creaked open once more, and the two in the cell were immediately alert and tense. They blinked at the sudden light that was emitted from the doorway, and slowly the being that stood in front of them was recognizable. Even to James, who could not see anything more then a blob at the doorway recognized the almost tangible presence in the air, the feeling of utmost evil that made it hard to breathe.
If his scarlet eyes were indeed windows to his soul, then he did not have one. All that was left was the fiery malice and hate that reminded James and Lily to what hell must be like. Voldemort seemed unsurprised that Lily had awoken from her enchanted dream, but they looked past her and to the body that was sitting up on the makeshift cot.
“Evans. It seems that you chose to return to the land of the living once more. A choice, I’m sure, that you shall regret in the near future. However, you have some reprieve.” He turned to James, eyes smoldering with fury. “You lost me a servant. And now, it is time to see that you pay for your defiance. Say goodbye Potter. You come with me.”
Frigid, lifeless scarlet surveyed the room disdainfully, landing with disgust at the figures that were huddled together. Disregarding Lily completely, he stared past her and spoke to James who had weakly pushed himself up onto his elbows. Lily’s mouth was hanging slightly open in shock, eyes huge with surprise and terror. James was pale, but his mouth was a grim line of defiance and his eyes were hard.
Oh, how Voldemort hated that defiance. Defiance in his eyes that would never die, no matter how tortured the body was. Voldemort was indeed looking forward to the moment in which that defiance would be snuffed out of that body. It was a pleasure that he would partake in personally.
“You should be honored, Potter. It is quite rare that I spend so much time on any prisoner. But you…you are a special case. You shall be my public example to the wizarding community so they know exactly what will happen to those defy me. And then when I destroy the man he looks to as a son, then perhaps Dumbledore shall realize that he shall never win.” He smiled with pleasure then, if that’s what one could call the horrifying twist of lips that brought a cold jolt of fear through the prisoner’s spines.
“No!”
Startled out of his reverie, crimson eyes glanced at witch that was glaring at him, stubbornness written on her attractive features. She stood straight and tall, proudly looking at Voldemort in the eye.
“No?” Voldemort drawled, staring at her with cold amusement.
“I—I won’t let you!” She scooted a little bit closer to the battered form of the wizard that lay at her feet.
In an instant, he was in front of her, and Lily took an involuntary step back in alarm. “And what, you naïve child, could you possibly do to stop me?”
Lily regained her composure as she stared icily into Voldemort’s horrid face, putrid breath reaching her nostrils and decaying features meeting her eyes. Her fingers twitched for her wand that had been taken. Voldemort did not miss the action, and smirked at her, irking Lily with the sheer smugness of it all.
“How about this, my little flower? I will be giving you both a choice. I will let you have the decision regarding your lives. You must choose which one of you shall live, and which one of you shall die. One will be the traitor and live; the other shall be the one who dies a miserable death as the hero. Which one will you choose?”

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“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Sirius cried, searching the darkened forest with desperation, cobalt eyes wild, and expression dark. “There’s nothing bloody here!”
Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared up at the gray skies that threatened to break at any given moment. They had found nothing, it was true, and everyone was beginning to get a tad disheartened, for once the rain began, there would be nothing. The rain would wash away any footprints and scents that might have been left behind.
Funny how something so essential to life and wanted everywhere came exactly when and where it was not wanted. In general, Remus was one of those people who enjoyed rain. A person who enjoyed the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof, the rumbling thunder and beautiful lightening, and then the gentle, clean scent afterwards that left the earth renewed. It washed away the earth’s troubles, washed away the sin of mankind.
It reminded him that even the foulest of creatures could be cleansed spiritually. But he prayed now, with all his might, that the rain would indeed wait for another day.
For if it rained, they were doomed.

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Shocked silence filled the room as the two stared at him with unadulterated horror.
“Well? Which one shall it be?” Voldemort hissed, glancing disinterestedly at them. “Hurry up now, this is an offer that shall expire soon if you don’t give me an answer.”
Lily opened and closed her mouth a few times without sound, creating a remarkable resemblance to a fish.
“I’ll do it.” Her voice was calm, unwavering, and resolute. “Let James go.”
“Lily, no-!”
Lily turned to James sharply, and hissed, “Shut it, you git! You’ve done all of this; you’ve gone through all of this all for me! Please, please allow me to repay the favor! Don’t deny me this, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you took my place. Please James, please. I am ready to die, as any soldier should be, and I’ll die at peace, I’ll die willingly, if I know that you would live. Let me regain my honor, James. Let me go. I’m ready.”
“But Lily!”
“No! I shall be the one to die. You have to understand, James. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
“But…” The words died on his lips, and he turned away in shame. When he spoke, it was in harsh, low tones that rasped his throat with emotion. “And what about me? How do you expect me to live, knowing I sent the girl I l-” he choked, “Knowing that I sent you to die? How?”
“James. I’ve made up my mind. I hope you’ll understand one day.” She stooped over and gave him a light kiss on his brow, ruffling the silky black strands through her fingers. James was pale, silent. In a whisper, she added, “You were a good friend…thank you.”
Lily turned to Voldemort, shoulders back with pride and determination. “I shall be the one to die. You will let James go.”
Voldemort sneered at her, features malicious with perverse delight. “You have reached your decision then? Very well. Potter shall die.”
“What?! No! But you said-”
“Evans, you seem to have forgotten one very important detail. I am Lord Voldemort! And I show no mercy. You have condemned Potter to death with your noble acts of courage.”
James gave a cry of agony before he stiffened, petrified, a look of abject resignation frozen upon his face. He was suspended in mid-air, and was calmly floated towards the door.
Lily gave a shriek of anger, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she lunged at the creature, but he only laughed, a chilling, bitter laugh, and she was suspended in mid-air, bound by invisible chains. “Now, now, Evans. Your time shall come.”
And with a bang, the cell door slammed shut, and the chains lost their grip. She lunged at the door, staring through the little bars at the figures that were getting smaller and smaller. A cry of pain crawled up her throat, tears flooded her eyes and emotion clutched her breast, making it difficult to breathe.
“James!” She sobbed, sinking to the floor. “Damn it, James…don’t go…please don’t go…”

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“Remus!” Sirius cried joyously. “Remus, get your skinny arse over here!”
Remus sighed and jogged lightly over. “What is it now, Sirius?”
“My good man, look at this!”
Remus squinted at Sirius’ seemingly empty hands, searching for whatever had made Sirius beam so proudly. At last a bit of light caught upon the long crimson lock, and it glinted gold in the faint light.
“By Merlin, is it--?”
“Yes, you git, it is! Lily’s hair! It isn’t much, but at least we know that they were around this area.” Sirius set out, rejuvenated with hope, in search of any clues. And there—there! There was the faintest impression of footprints!
“Come on, Moony! We’ll save them yet!”

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They were probably dead.
At least, that’s what Peter told himself. It was of little use to dwell on and mourn their passing when it was he who had condemned them to that fate.
And Remus and Sirius…they were most likely scouring the entire forest for a clue, a hint, anything. But Peter knew that they wouldn’t find it. Idly, he entertained the notion of helping them find the lair, helping them defeat Voldemort—
But the thought was quickly banished from his mind as reality set in. Voldemort would kill him if he double-crossed him, and it would not be a pleasant death. Peter was not ready to make such a decision so that his own skin would be at risk.
He had learned one thing in this entire bloody war.
Make no ties, no true loyalties until you were sure which side was strongest, which one was sure to win.
Survival of the fittest.
And Peter would do anything—anything to make certain that he was the fittest.

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Oh, wasn’t this just peachy.
James was rather frustrated as of late because of the sheer and utter helplessness he had felt in the past few hours. He was completely immobile, suspended in the air at the mercy of Voldemort with dark blobs—Death Eaters, he presumed, as he squinted a bit, flanking his sides. He was marching, rather, floating, to the gallows, and there was little he could do about it.
He had believed that he had banished the fear of dying from his mind, but there was still that twinge of fright, soon pushed down and replaced instead by grim determination.
How life had changed since the days of Hogwarts.
In Hogwarts, up to his fifth year, everything had been about himself, and only himself. He was a naïve moron, and life seemed so rich back then. He was untouchable. Death was a concept, a theory, that did not apply to himself. He had had a rather rude awakening. A lot had changed since those times.
He knew, with utter certainty that was to die, and felt only two emotions—determination and remorse.
Grim determination because if he was to die, then he would die like a man should die. His back would be straight and his features proud.
Remorse because of all the things that he would never be able to do, of things that he would never be able to say. There was so much left, but he supposed that time waited for no one. He had missed his one and only chance, and it was gone.
Never to return.
But he accepted his fate, more of less. He was going to die, but he was going to die fighting.
He would die with honor.

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“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Lily growled, pounding on the door angrily. “You can’t die on me Potter, not until I say I’m sorry!”
She had screamed herself hoarse, calling for help, for justice, and then, when that did not work, cursing all of the Death Eater’s mothers. She pounded on the door more slowly now, her head leaning upon the hard wood, resting. Her hands were bleeding with splinters, but still she persisted.
“No, no, no—”
Clink.
She stopped, and froze, before she hissed, in absolute amazement, “-yes.”
The door creaked open slowly.
In the distance, a pale figure slinked back into the shadows, his dark Death Eaters robes caressing the darkness. And in his hands, there was a glint of silver as the light caught upon the cell’s keys.
Severus Snape slithered away from the cell, quickly, silently walking to where Voldemort was to perform his ceremony. He had been frightened—truly terrified when his shaking hand had unlocked the cell door. But now, oddly enough, he felt only calm. A soothing sort of tranquility, and a bitter sense of triumph that was unfamiliar in these sinister ages.
These emotions that stirred within him were strange, for they had laid dormant for the better part of the war.
His thoughts were in a turmoil, but he knew one thing, and one thing only. He would not, could not let Lily die.
She had always been kind to him, always defended him. They had been friends, once, long ago, before Voldemort had risen into power. They had met on the train, and had bonded immediately, staying the best of friends throughout first year, and ignoring the invisible barriers between their two very separate houses.
But somehow on the way, he had drifted away from her, drifted away from all his problems at school and at home by listening to and following the sweet, candy-coated words of Voldemort and his followers. Lily had stubbornly held on for many years afterwards, and Severus had done nothing except discourage her.
She was, after all, a mudblood.
Just a stupid little mudblood who never teased him. A stupid little mudblood who always spoke her mind. A beautiful, stupid, little mudblood that would die for a wrong that she had not committed.
Just a stupid little mudblood.
But for some reason, even after all his conditioning during the time in which he had joined Voldemort’s ranks, he could not condemn Lily for her birth, and in truth, she was the best witch that he had ever had the fortune of meeting.
Perhaps there was still time for redemption. He had done things that, upon reflection, made his skin crawl and his stomach churn. They were not things that he was proud of.
But Lily had been kind to him through even the darkest of times. Perhaps now it was time to return the favor.

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It was impossible.
It was absolutely and positively impossible. This was the sort of thing that only happened in picture books and fairytales.
The door, according to the rules of damnanation, could not be open.
Lily held her breath in anticipation and in irrational hope as she quietly pushed the dungeon door forward. It opened a sliver with an immensely loud creak, and Lily winced, and recoiled. An emerald eye peered out, and searched the abandoned hallway.
The fire from the torches cast eerie shadows upon the floor and the walls as the flames flickered and danced. But there was no sign of life.
She scanned the hallway again, but her keen eyes could discern no one in the shadows. For a moment, she entertained the thought that it was all an elaborate ruse, but she quickly banished it from her mind. Even if it was a ruse, there was nothing she could lose. Not anymore.
Silently, with stealth that would have made her instructors at the Auror Academy proud, she crept through the hallways, blending into the darkest and deepest shadows. She did not stop, though she had little idea of where she was. Anywhere would be better than the hellish room that she had just left.
She was in a corridor now, and she gasped involuntarily as she saw the décor that graced the walls.
Heads—human heads adorned the gray, concrete walls, mounted and stuffed. (1) They were displayed proudly, and were like the animal heads she had seen displayed in so many muggle homes.
The emerald-eyed witch recoiled, nearly vomiting. Their frozen faces were twisted in agony, their sightless gazes staring at her accusingly, demanding to know where she had been while they were killed. Why she hadn’t helped them.
Why she lived while they did not.
Her stomach clenched, and the redheaded woman swore that she heard the echoes of their dying screams in her ears.
As a child, she had often heard of the serial murders that plagued England All the muggles’ heads were decapitated, and all that had been left at the scenes of the crimes were their headless bodies. The police had been absolutely baffled by it, and they had never found any clues, nor caught the murderer.
She ducked her head, and kept her eyes trained on the ground.
Now she knew why.
Her sharp hearing detected no one save herself, and it was then that she could contain herself no longer. She fled; her footsteps light but quick, desperate to escape those blank, accusing eyes.

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Agony.
Agony seared through his every nerve, his every vein, his every pore and it burned with a fire that he could not extinguish. The crickets were singing loudly in the distance, and he could hear nothing save the rushing roar in his ears and their damned chirping.
The beast of the unbearable fire crawled up his throat, digging its claws deep in its desperation to escape.
To bring James release.
He resisted for a moment, before he relinquished his control. He opened his mouth to liberate the raging creature, but no sound came out. The beast stayed in his throat and in his chest, and he could not expel it. Only the sickening hissing sound when he drew breath was heard. There was no escape.
No release.
And the crickets grew silent in honor of the dying prisoner. For it was cruel to flaunt the freedom that they had when another did not.

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It was inevitable. It was bound to happen, as dictated by Murphy’s Law that everything that could happen at the worst possible moment would.
Damn Murphy to Hell.
It rained. Remus was, with the utmost certainty, sure that the very gods were against them. It seemed to be like a game, and he himself one of the players, tormented for their sick amusement.
Hope had been achieved for a single, beautiful moment, and then it was snatched away as quickly as it had been received. They had found one clue, yes—Lily’s hair. And with her hair they were able to find, courtesy of Padfoot, a single clearing in which there was evidence of a struggle.

The Order of the Phoenix.net

24 Hours - Part 5