Heaven's Light and Hellfire

Heavens Light and Hellfire

Chapter One:

It can't rain all the time

The pained man walked to the window to look out upon a dreary world. His back ached, his muscles pained him more than ever and he had an indifferent suspicion that he'd die from the pain of living through the pain than from any spell or battle. Grasping firmly on his cane for support he lowered himself onto the drab green high-backed velvet chair facing the window and felt the weakness of his physical state take over his mental state as he lazed back against the chair staring out the window.

He felt depression seep in from the corners of abyss and halfheartedly knew he should push them back, before he let them swarm over him. "There's no reason to fight it anymore...why bother...," the young man thought. The rain pattered down harder, but not hard enough to wash away the daylight from the man's eyes. He had just leaned his head back against the corner of the chair when something pinched the small hairs on the back of his neck snapping him from his stupor.

Reaching back he felt the chain of a necklace though he could not remember it; unfastening the necklace and taking it out from under his robes, he looked at a brown leather bag at the end of the chain enclosing something. Removing the leather covering, he half way pulled it off when it burned him and he had to drop it. Carefully picking it up by the leather he shook the pendant out of the leather covering and out fell a silver teardrop pendant. Feeling something tugging at the edges of his mind, he recalled words he forgot he knew and knew not their meaning:

We walked the narrow path,

Beneath the smoking skies.

Sometimes you can barely tell the difference

Between darkness and light.

Do you have faith?

In what we believe?

The truest test is when we cannot,

When we cannot see.

He carefully opened the teardrop locket and heard a melody that sounded

Far away, but he heard a near forgotten voice calling him back as the

Wolf remembered. He remembered a time when he was in hiding, over nineteen years ago.

*Flashback*

He was in Paris at the time, hiding in a cathedral. He worked there as a servant to the clergy and asked for nothing more than food, drink, and a place to stay. The Arch-deacon graciously allowed him to stay, offered his home even, but Remus declined being satisfied with the cathedral's tower as a lodging for the time. The tower had a beautiful view of the city and offered its soul when the sunset upon the rivers horizon surrounding the city. During his changing moments of the month, he found the old crypts, deep within the cathedrals depths to be satisfactory place to lock himself in and muffle his cries. He tried as he could to not inflict harm on his surroundings, not to destroy the already decrepit tomb, or noticeably himself. Other than his bodily disturbances he was left much alone, except for his meals being provided for by the church and brought up by the nuns, or acolytes, whichever wasn't busy. But once he was disturbed, but wasn't bothered much by this disturbance, more pleased than anything.

Remus' POV:

An old woman, she came with tears streaks staining her dirty face, but she was smiling all the same. She carried a knapsack that was feather light but with all her belongings. Said she came to drop something off that she needed to leave for others who would seek out refuge with the outcasts. I helped her climb the beams to where she said it was to hang. And there she hung it. A sort of necklace to be tied to a beam by a thin leather strand, I had helped her tie it there and heard her mutter words that were incoherent, but had a rhyme to them all the same. Afterward, the woman and I had a meal and she didn't say much about her, but comforted me in my troubles and when I showed her the view of the city, she stood in awe for a long while. I brought out chairs for us as we finished our wine and she sang a rhyme to me:

//I hear pounding feet in the...in the streets below...and the women crying...and the children know that there...that there's something wrong, and it's hard to believe that love will prevail.//

Her voice was old, but it was calming and I had had no contact to wizarding England and only grown worrisome in my stay in hiding. But she calmed me; she sang words that could comfort me for days on end.

//Oh it won't rain all the time. The sky won't fall forever. And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.//

Her voice continued as the sun shown pink and orange on our faces, still warm in the September air. As she found herself slightly lost for words, I added on what my heart felt to sing:

//Oh when I'm lonely, I lie awake at night and I wish you were here. I miss you, can you tell me is there something more to believe in? Or is this all there is? //

She smiled at me and gently closed her eyes as I continued to sing to her and to all of Paris in a light voice:

//Last night I had a dream. You came into my room; you took me into your arms. Whispering and kissing me, and telling me to still believe. But then the emptiness of a burning sea against which we see our darkest of sadness.//

She opened her eyes and sang again to me this time:

//Until I felt safe and warm, I fell asleep in your arms. When I awoke I cried again for you were gone. Oh, can you hear me? //

I finished the song for us both as she fell asleep as the sun finally began to set.

//It won't rain all the time. The sky won't fall forever. And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.//

End POV.

She lived for one more month before passing away, and when she died it was in her sleep while watching the sunset one last time. She was a calming, but lively woman who knew of life, heartache, and all its trials and tribulations. She taught Remus of the city and its history of love, its hate, and the patterns of the world's turmoil. She didn't fear the future or what it offered but was hopeful, said that the world would always have its troubles; else what would we teach our children about the past? She said all would come in due time; no sooner and a good thing too, because you always needed a good sleep before hand.

She had understood his suffering and somehow knew about his lycanthropy but never questioned about it when he came back after a few days all scratched and bleeding slightly with a limp and always weary. She took care of him, told him that he was a strong soldier of man and God is justly proud of how he had withstood this strife of a lifetime, and hoped he would teach others of such strength and endurance. He could tell she was proud of him: like a mother to a son, she loved him and he loved her back, knowing she was old and dying. It wasn't a disease that was killing her, it was time, something no one could fight and she taught him to be okay with that. Before she died, it was a hard concept to accept though he never voiced it, and she showed him that the best way to deal was through calmness and tranquility. Pain is a thousand thoughts, like the sands in the Ocean, and the water is time, slowly washing the sand away. You must learn to let all wash over you; just relax and let nature take its course. Cry and let yourself feel the pain, but let yourself relax in the pain as it ebbs over you and then flows back away like the waves in the Sea.

She made it so much easier for him to deal with her passing. He cried at first and took her inside, wrapped her up, and brought her to the nuns. He cried silently as he sat with her that night through her wake as prayers were said and the evening mass was held. He finally went to sleep lying outside on the stone balustrade, waking to the morning's light. He helped a page boy ring the morning bells and went down to see his old friend; she looked peaceful in her coffin. He had a closed church ceremony for her and the clergy was happy to help him with her coffin to the church graveyard where she was laid to rest at the side of a small hill where the sun shown right down upon her grave. He knew she would like it, exactly where she could watch the horizon and even a view of the river as it circled the city. That night he sat watching the sunset and fell asleep calm and content, knowing she was by his side. Knowing he would make it and live to see many more sunsets before his time, and knew she was proud of that. He would remember her always, and would always keep the tear drop she gave him. The tune he would always remember as he would her memory.

*End Flashback*

Remus closed the locket and slipped the leather covering back over it. He turned his face back to the window and smiled as he could make out the sunset through the water-covered glass and noted that the rain had stopped. He smiled as he watched the people below creep inside quickly as the front door was opened for them below. Many were too afraid to be seen outside the house for more than a second, others protecting their fellows as they kept looking over their shoulder, a habit that Remus knew wouldn't leave them for a long time.

He heard two pairs of footsteps headed his direction from the hall, both pairs in step and a slight bounce in them: The Weasley twins.

"Hey Remus, the members are assembling in the kitchen...," Fred started.

"And we need you anyhow..."

"What with Severus gracing us with his presence..."

"...And sitting in the same room as us,"

"And breathing the same air..."

"And just basically living..."

"Come help us," they both finished in unison.

"Alright boys, let me find the strength to move and I'll be there..."

"You could just apparate,"

"Like us," and with a pop both were gone leaving Remus to smile after them. It was for childish gestures like that that made Number 12 Grimmauld Place bearable.

Remus leaned on his cane with his right hand as he walked rather swiftly for a man with muscle damage down the stairs and was glad to see he was the last to arrive. Remus took his seat beside Severus and mustered his every ounce of control to contain the laughter building up inside him as he felt Severus glare blunt daggers that could spear a troll with his anger behind them. Opposite Remus sat Arthur Weasley and his wife Molly on his left. The seat on his right stayed vacant as Bill and Fleur choose to sit a seat down from him (probably out of respect for Sirius' memory). Across from Snape sat Minerva and at the head sat Albus' chair. Next to Molly sat Mad-Eye Moody, and on his left sat Tonks, who was looking solemnly at her hands with a drawn expression on her face. Kingsley and Dedalus Diggle were talking with Fred and George across the table about quidditch again. Hestia Jones and Sturgis Podmore were talking in low voices and giving less than liking glances towards Snape at the opposite head of the table.

No one sat on Elphias's right, but in the next seat over sat Mundungus Fletcher who was letting Elphias examine a small item under the table with his back to the twins. On Fred's left sat Charlie who was determinedly looking away from Fluer and chatting with his younger brothers about Ireland's current game outcome. She, however seemed to be nothing less than engaged with Bill as she stared dreamily in his eyes and he could only reciprocate the notion as if seemingly under her spell. Thankful for the space between Bill and him, Remus turned his slightly-more-than-utterly-depressed gaze to Severus who immediately came out of his reverie of shooting silver darts at the werewolf with his mind.

"Yes Lupin... I'd suppose you have something of interest to say?" Snape clipped the words at the wolf with no trepidation as Lupin straightened his back to meet Severus' eyes. "As a matter of fact Snape, I do. Your potion, the last batch you made for me, isn't working properly; I can't control myself or feel my sense of mind. Something's different, like something has rendered it near useless. I can control myself enough to stay in one place, but not enough to control my mind and actions. Like there is another source seeping through forcing me to act the way I don't want to, and my consciousness keeps slipping in and out. Something's very wrong." The reaction rewarded to Lupin was not as grave as most would be, though Snape knew full well the impact of a werewolf out of control and untamed in a house where it was ever so important to keep him as such.

"Are you sure it's not you who has rendered the potion...useless? Adding anything to it, even so much as a hair will ruin it." Snape sneered with a glare that said his potions were perfect if made by him.

"I'm sure Severus, if I thought it was even remotely possible to be me, I wouldn't mention it to you of all people." The tension gap between the two was dripping with the mark of death. Finally Snape eased under the fury of the wolf with only half his sanity to call upon at the moment.

"I'll brew an entire new batch, go over every ingredient and see if I can find the source of the problem, if not find something to make it stronger."

Remus slowly let the anger within his gaze subside as he turned away with a nod.

Just then the kitchen door swung open and Dumbledore beamed cheerily at the gathered crowd with welcoming arms and began in a very businesslike tone, "I'm glad you could all make it tonight! I have a guest with me who has some very important information for us all on the occurrences in the States." Dumbledore stepped to the side to reveal an empty doorway, but he continued nevertheless, "You all are aware of the sudden attacks and burnings in the forests of the Appalachian Mountains in the Southern States, well I was lucky enough to have a survivor come to me knowing who I was and that I could offer some help to her and her people. She is here on her own accord, and I have asked her to stay with us for the time being. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Order I would ask you to please welcome her." Dumbledore motioned for someone to step forward through the door frame, and for a moment no one came, and then the house elf Dobby walked through holding the hand of a tall woman who seemed shy, but beautiful. She had a light tan, but to look like she had pale brown skin and had soft features with almond eyes that were an olive green with brown flecks around the pupil that could be seen from far away. She had high cheekbones and soft pink lips that were perfect; not to big, not small, a bit above medium: perfect. She had a broad shouldered outlook to her, as if she was brave, but at the moment, hesitant. She was clad in a slender leather dress that was cut off above the knee and made a diagonal cross at a small slope across her chest, with a partial sleeve going over one shoulder and making a diagonal path to attach itself to the bottom of the opposite blade. She wore leather moccasins that were a few sizes too big and had a necklace of beads and metal pendants woven in and out of her dark brown hair that shown with a ginger tint in the candescent light of the kitchen. Her hair draped down her back where she fiddled with it as she stood in the doorway, next to Dumbledore in the fore front.

The room was quite in a way as to say they didn't know how to say hello, they immediately realized she was what their ancestors had called a savage, a being of the wild with no civilized teachings, not like the names given to muggleborns or muggles themselves, but one who has literally lived all their life with no civilized teachings of human interactions. Minerva, however, sidestepped that obstacle and greeted the woman with kindness.

"Hello, my name is Minerva, welcome to the Order of the Phoenix! Um, do you understand me...?"

"She understands English, though she cannot speak much of it."

The woman removed her hands from behind her and held them in front of her as she tried to say something. She looked up at Minerva and waved her right hand and forearm from right to left vertically, then finished it by facing her hand palm up and making a horizontal arc with it from left to right.

"She says hello," Dumbledore explained to the questioning looks. She then gestured at her self and said in a strong accent with a light voice, "Catzahanzamusheis." The room understood at once, that was her name. She then raised both hands with the right palm facing down and the left directly below it facing up, and then said, "Catz".

"We may call her Catz for short, Minerva will you seat her please while I go get the penseive?" Dumbledore queried as he turned to leave, but halted to place a hand on Catz's shoulder and nodded with a wink before sweeping from the room.

"Come, follow me...," McGonagall gestured as she led Catz over to an empty chair next to Bill Weasley. Bill nodded at her and she nodded back, as did Molly who sat across from her. Catz turned her head to look to her left to see a man with a cane with hair that swept past his shoulders and had been pulled back with a band. Remus sipped from his goblet one last time before regarding her; she took him in as he did her. They both saw something in the other that they couldn't place, but before any thoughts could be formed Dumbledore swept swiftly back into the room with the penseive and placed it before him as he clapped his hands together and looked upon the group, now ready to begin. Begin a meeting to reveal what new horrors, catastrophes, and lives had been ruined as they sought desperately to try and save the world from the grasps of evil and thwart Lord Voldemort of his newest plan to take over the world. Remus sighed and rubbed his temples as he prepared for another long meeting and talk about the impending end of the world as we know it. Well, Remus thought, at least no one was over exaggerating.