Immortalized

Immortalized

"Say cheese!"

CLICK

Dust covered my eyes after a few years. Nobody every entered this part of the attic. Too many memories.

Ages passed. The laughter next to me faded after awhile. I tightened my grip around the bundle in my arms. How old would he be now? Five? Eight? Thirty-six? You lose track of time after awhile.

The door opened and footsteps creaked across the ancient floor. The man with amber eyes sighed as he pulled out our box.

"Remus!" my husband exclaimed and, though the werewolf could never hear him, it was nice to have laughter again.

Remus sifted through the pile, pausing to look at us. I recognized the longing in his eyes. I tried to smile up at him, but he didn't notice.

Then there was darkness again.

Slowly, a line of light spread across the page. A boy peered in shyly, but curious all the same. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

A grin broke out on my face and my husband whooped with laughter. He had to be about eleven. He looked so much like his father.

The eyes looked up at a giant man and tried express his thanks.

The years passed quicker now. He'd take a look every now and them. I don't know who else was in the book, but I hoped they were happy memories.

Except 'he' wasn't always happy. Sometimes he was distraught, flipping through the pages like a madman. Sometimes he'd just stare at us, tears in his eyes.

I wanted to reach out to him and take him in my arms. I'd try to call out, "Ha - "

But I would always stop myself. There was no use in wishing for something I couldn't have.

I just hugged the blankets tighter. A soft giggle sounded from them.

He was more upset now. I could tell. He would just open this album and stare at the page opposite us. I couldn't see what it was of, though I occasionally caught a flash of black hair.

I chuckled ruefully. That mutt was always causing trouble.

But we never saw him from our page.

Grimmauld Place. I recognized it from the descriptions Sirius gave us. Why were we on the fireplace?

He entered the room. Spitting image of James as a sixth year. I could tell Severus wasn't overjoyed by that, if the glaring was any indication. That man certainly could hold a grudge.

It wasn't until then that I noticed. The rest of the room's occupants.

'It couldn't be!' my mind screamed. 'That would mean .... '

"Don't worry, Lils," James said soothingly, sensing my distress. "I'm sure it's not a meeting. The war is over - "

But the Order of the Phoenix was in business again. Voldemort was back.

My baby had to live through this.

Tears streamed down my face as a one-year old Harry sifted in my arms.

His older counterpart sat on the other side of the room, staring into the fire with determination. He was going to fight.

And there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was powerless, stuck in the background of life without any way to change it.

That's your fate when you are immortalized on film.