Syzygy

NOTES: A quick shout goes out to all of you who reviewed Chapter 3. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long for this.

 

CHAPTER FOUR.

 

For a minute or so, it was all Remus could do just to sit still, on his bench, regarding the hideous, red mark on his arm. Violent, stabbing, shooting pains ran up and down his arm like fire. His head seemed to be swirling in an angry, red mist. Every sound around him was suddenly heightened, as it did when he transformed. He could hear the hissing and the spitting as chips were plunged into a deep fat fryer, he could hear the banging of car doors two streets away, the shrieks of children playing on the beach and the incessant crashing of breakers on the shoreline …

He stumbled to his feet. The bag of chips slipped off his lap and fell to the floor, scattering grease and fat across the dingy, grey slabs. Remus gasped for air … breathing was suddenly becoming very difficult indeed. He was dimly aware of people walking along, walking past him as he stumbled, feet barely contacting the pavement, over to the rail of the promenade. It was painted bright green.

Everything seemed to be slowing down. He was very dimly aware of someone shouting something at him, but when he looked around, gasping to keep down the bile and vomit that was rising in the very pit of his stomach, there was nobody …

"I know …"

Remus closed his eyes and gripped the railing tightly, turning his knuckles white.

"I know …"

The world seemed to be wheeling around him. He felt his fingers detaching, as if pulled by some invisible force, away from the rail. The ground seemed tantalisingly close, and right now, a very safe place to be. Remus’ legs buckled away underneath his weight, and he felt himself falling.

* * * * *

Black clouds were massing over the distant mountain summits, they churned and bubbled and spewed upwards into the clear afternoon air … God’s own chemistry set was boiling over. Gathering force, garnering within their obscene bulk the power of the elemental, of the storm, and of mysteries ancient and untold. The air crackled with static as the power grew in force and anger.

A red admiral butterfly alighted on a rose, paused and then took flight again, feather-light wings beating against the air.

Sirius wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and burped noisily, prompting a giggling fit from little Harry.

"Damn excellent steak, Prongs," he said, putting his cutlery together on the plate. He leaned across the table, plucking the crusty end piece of the baguette they had devoured with their meat. Delving fingers scooped out the fluffy white bread within, and mopped it around the plate, soaking it in blood red gravy.

"It’s nothing," James said. "I love cooking for people who enjoy their food."

Sirius popped the bread into his mouth, and split the crust in two. A rainstorm of crumbs and flakes tumbled onto his plate.

"More salad?"

Peter pushed his plate away meaningfully, and patted his stomach meaningfully. "Not for me. I should really be on a diet … been putting on far too much weight lately."

Sirius snapped. "Bollocks, Peter."

"I want to save room for desert," Peter said, grinning smugly at Lily, who smiled awkwardly.

"I wasn’t actually planning a sweet," she said. "I thought – what with the birthday tea later …"

"Sacrilege!" James roared mockingly, leaping to his feet, catching his shorts on the table and almost sending the whole ensemble crashing to the patio in a cascade of broken crockery and shattered post-prandial conviviality.

"A barbecue at the Potters’ …" Sirius joined in "… sans pudding! And Chudley will go top of the Quidditch league before I see the day!"

Lily blushed. "I suppose," she began. "Are you boys really that hungry? I feel like I’ve eaten a rhinoceros."

"We are always hungry, Lily," said James, matter-of-factly.

"This is true," said Sirius. "Eating is my life … that and motorbikes …"

"And shagging," said Peter.

"Goes without saying."

"You terrors will corrupt my little boy before he’s two …"

"Yes, think of Harry," James grinned.

"Really," Lily ruffled her husband’s hair. "I was thinking of you, dear."

"Shut up and get the ice cream …"

Lily smiled again. It was something she did a lot. "We only have three flavours," she said. "Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry …"

"Those will do nicely …"

"I hear that in America," Peter said, conversationally, "there are shops that have forty-nine different flavours of ice cream."

James’ eyes boggled at the prospect. "How do they find time in the day … ooh, Lily, don’t forget to bring sauce out, too! And do we have jelly?"

Lily turned. "It’s setting," she said. "And it’s Harry’s. You are not to touch it!"

She disappeared into the cottage.

"She’s a gem, eh?" Sirius remarked.

"Take it easy, dog-boy."

Peter was looking down the garden towards the mountains.

"We shall have rain," he said, quietly.

"I’m sorry?" Sirius leaned across again. James got quietly to his feet and began to stack their used plates, one atop the other.

"Look at that storm brewing," said Peter.

"Oh, blimey," said Sirius. "Yes … I’d sooner not be outside when that one breaks. Looks like we might have to have an indoor picnic later."

"An indoor picnic?" Peter looked at his friend. "Since when could one have an indoor picnic … surely the whole point …"

"Well," said Sirius. "I used to have them, even if some of us evidently had very deprived childhoods indeed. You need a bolt of material to serve as a tent, another one to cover up the floor and …"

"You’re loving this, aren’t you?" Peter mocked.

Lightning arced through the air. The wind was picking up, sweeping along the valley and bringing with it a sudden burst of frigid air, driving away summer’s latent heat.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "Looks like that storm might be sooner coming than I thought," he said. "We might want to go inside."

Lily stepped back out through the French windows, carrying two large wooden barrels, frosted over with ice. She stopped as she took in the approaching tempest.

"Oh my."

Clouds were pouring over the summit of Mynedd Mallean now. The dark, slate grey of the mountain was barely distinguishable from the towering, billowing shapes. They were moving swiftly towards them, like an advancing army, forming up into ranks.

Another blast of cold wind took them all by surprised as it fluttered round their ankles. The tablecloth flapped violently. Harry whimpered.

"Peter, get Harry inside," Lily said. "This is going to break sooner than I thought."

There was a rumble of thunder.

"Sirius, you help me with the tablecloth."

Peter plucked Harry out of his highchair, and carried the squirming baby inside the cottage. James was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking concerned.

"I don’t understand where this is coming from," he said, as Peter bounced the snivelling Harry up and down in his arms. "The radio said the weather looked set for the day."

"These things happen," Peter said. "The Muggles don’t always get it right."

Another flash of lightning illuminated the whole room.

"We’d better light some candles," James said. "Reckon the electricity will go out again."

* * * * *

Remus certainly didn’t feel like he was dead. He was pretty convinced that he was, but surely, he reasoned, there had to be more to it than this. It wasn’t as if he had been expecting the Grim Reaper to show up, scythe in hand, leading him on with a gesture of his crooked, bony fingers. All the same.

He felt strangely detached from his body. He had no sense of his physical self anymore. The only thing he felt was something akin to floating. His soul and spirit were on the wing, freed and unconstrained.

Remus could see … if the concept of sight had any relevance to him any longer … at any rate, he could somehow sense the presence of great power. It was as if he was flying through space, above an enraged, seething mass. Something, somewhere … and Remus could no more tell what it was than he could tell what was happening to him, was very angry. This anger, he could now understand, had something to do with him.

Strange, glowing orbs were rushing at him out of the mist … they appeared at first much like planets in their structure and their vivid colours, but as they drew closer, these colours faded to a uniform, steely grey … almost, but not quite opaque. Remus had no way of telling what they were, or even if they existed. He tried to reach out to touch them … but he was possessed of no body to respond to his unthinking command.

Am I controlling this?

A bright flash of light suddenly seemed to consume the scene that was spread out before him … the steely spheres seemed to melt away, like quicksilver, and then the light moved forward and encompassed him and it was all as a dream.

Remus opened his eyes. He could feel pebbles, stones, clasped tight in his hands. He was looking up at a clear blue sky. The sun was beating down on him, and he could hear once again the shrieks of children splashing in the shallows.

He sat up, releasing the clutch of pebbles. He was suddenly very hungry again … when had he last eaten? Had he even eaten anything?

More to the point, how the bloody hell had he wound up lying on the beach. Remus stumbled quickly to his feet. He was about a hundred yards along the seafront from where he had … collapsed … right in front of the bandstand. Cars were still moving slowly along the road, and the promenade was still crammed with strolling families. It couldn’t, from the position of the sun, have been more than an hour or so later.

A light breeze was whipping at his hair as he walked along the shingle beach, back the way he had come. He could hear the clattering of pebbles as they were caught in the ceaseless swash and backwash of the ocean’s rhythm.

He reached the steps up to the promenade without incident, and mounted them swiftly, brushing past a small boy, who could have been no more than six or seven years old. He was wearing a loose white T-shirt over blue swimming trunks, and jelly sandals on his feet. As the two of them passed, their eyes met briefly. The boy licked his ice cream cone, and continued on his way.

The sea breeze was causing loose bits of paper to swirl round and about the legs of the strollers on the promenade.

Remus turned, and looked out to sea. There were yachts out there, bobbing up and down slightly as the water …

… the water …

It seemed to be churning, welling up into slightly bigger waves than should have been normal for such a peaceful summer’s day. The Muggles on the beach noticed it as well, for there was a sudden flurry activity as mothers rushed to retrieve their children from the usually benevolent shallows.

The waves were breaking slightly harder … each one tipped with white foam.

* * * * *

They sat in silence in the Potters’ tiny sitting room, bowls of fast melting ice cream on their knees. Nobody felt much like eating anything … it was as if the lifeblood had been sucked out of what should have been a most joyous day. Even Harry sensed it, as he roamed around the floor, playing with the discarded wrapping paper. He was suddenly very quiet, and completely transformed from the bubbly, attention-seeking toddler he had been just a few short minutes before.

James gazed upon him affectionately. Rain lashed against the windows.

"I never thought I’d see a fire lit in July," Peter said, by way of making some conversation.

James pointed his wand at the fire, where little flames were dancing merrily, throwing some heat into the cold room, and whispered an incantation. The flames grew slightly higher.

Lightning flashed again outside. The storm was right overhead now. Lily stood by the window and looked at the churning clouds without.

"It doesn’t look real," she said, quietly. "It’s like no thunderstorm I’ve ever seen before."

James got up from his armchair, and crossed the room, taking care not to scatter Harry’s toys. He put an arm around her shoulders, and they looked out of the window.

"It’s horrible," he whispered.

The clouds seemed to be descending from the sky. The rain was falling with such force that they could hear it pounding upon the roof with a dull, incessant roaring sound. It threw up little plumes of dust from the gravel driveway outside. It collected in the creases and crevices of the blue tarpaulin that was covering Sirius’ beloved motorbike. It batted the leaves of the trees away.

"By all the Gods," Peter said. "Why won’t this stop?"

Lily turned away from the window. The candles flickered slightly – the electricity had, indeed, failed some minutes earlier.

"I don’t know," she said. "But it’s bloody well scaring me silly."

Harry whined pitifully, and clutched at her skirts.

"I’m sure it’ll stop soon," said James. "Rainstorms this strong never last for long, anyway …"

He was cut off short by a sudden gust of wind that seemed to tear right the way through the cottage, penetrating into the walls, and extinguishing both the fire and the candles in one breath.

"Shit!"

A beam of harsh light … was that merely lightning … swept across the opposite wall … the rain came down even harder. There was burst of lightning another clap of thunder so loud and so near that it set Harry off. Lily bent to scoop her shrieking, terrified charge from the floor.

There was a pounding sound at the door.

 

END OF CHAPTER FOUR …

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FIVE …