Promises Remembered

RobinLady

Story Summary:
Sirius is ten years out of his time. Remus is having disturbing visions. James is struggling to hold the world together. Peter is trying to learn how to live without lies. In the sequel to "Promises Unbroken," the Wizarding World remains on the edge of disaster, and Voldemort seeks final victory.

Chapter 33

Chapter Summary:
Sirius is ten years out of his time. Remus is having disturbing visions. James is struggling to hold the world together. Peter is trying to learn how to live without lies. In the sequel to "Promises Unbroken," the Wizarding World remains on the edge of disaster, and Voldemort seeks final victory. {This chapter: the world begins to unravel, Death Eaters attack, and the outcome of Rita Skeeter's new article}
Posted:
10/15/2004
Hits:
1,220

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Limits of Endurance

He was pelted with angry owls the next morning, along with upwards of half a dozen Howlers. Most concerned the necessary and immediate removal of one Professor and Deputy Headmaster Severus Snape, but a few concerned Remus' carelessness in allowing Hogwarts to be attacked. That incident was all over the papers, of course, though Rita Skeeter had managed to mangle the facts in her usual manner. Still, the basics of even her article were truthful enough--the school had been attacked, and parents were worried.

Those letters he put aside with a little less care than the others; they stung. He had done all he could do, and more--few were those who had faced Lord Voldemort and survived, no matter how indirect the method. Remus did not rejoice at joining the survivors' number, but he was glad that Hogwarts was safe.

In the end, little mattered to him more.

He stood slowly, trying to force a smile. The effort failed, but a flick of his wand sent the stack of irate letters and Howlers sailing into the fire--a much more fitting and safer place for them than any garbage bin. Remus was well aware of what the attack seemed to say about Severus, and he was equally prepared to ignore the criticism. Those who mattered knew the truth, and those who didn't, well...they would simply have to deal with the situation as it stood. Severus was far too valuable to Hogwarts, to Remus, to leave because some worried parents thought he had invited Death Eaters to the school.

And yet, things had not been as bad as they could have been. Of that he was sure. Without the Font, he would have failed, would have fallen, even with Severus' warning. But the Font had enabled Remus to seal the school against all comers, and he had held. Just as Dumbledore had years before, he had held.

Remus sighed, listening to his own thoughts. He hated being compared to Albus Dumbledore. He hated the parallels being drawn simply because he was Hogwarts' headmaster, and he was now the nominal head of the Order of the Phoenix. No matter what happened, he could not replace the kind and wise old man who had so often guided the Wizarding world through one disaster after another. Remus was not Dumbledore, and though he loved the same things Dumbledore had loved and was willing to fight for them in the same manner, he could never replace the old man. Nor would he wish to.

Walking towards his office's exit, Remus tried to push those thoughts away, and managed to, in part. He would never escape the nagging suspicion that others saw him as Dumbledore's mirrored replacement, but Remus supposed that he ought to be complimented by the comparison. He had admired Albus Dumbledore all of his life, and it was nice to know that he had not yet failed the old man.

Even so, there was work to be done, and Hogwarts' headmaster stepped out of his office and into his school, once again remembering that he was, in the end, just another teacher.

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He'd had to dodge a dozen irate Hogsmeade residents and watched three Howlers explode in his face along the way, but Snape had finally managed to escape. He'd ended up Apparating onto a lonely-looking Muggle street, which he walked along with apparent unconcern, trying to blend in and not attract attention. The last thing he needed was to be seen by either side, because what he was doing was just plain foolishness.

But it was also a favor for an old friend, and Severus Snape upheld his obligations. His family's age-old honor demanded that friendship be remembered no matter what, and when a friend had asked for help, he had answered. Especially when the trip offered him a much needed chance to escape the increasingly-tense environment that Hogwarts had become. The students were not nearly as hostile as their parents had become, but he had been assaulted by owls, eagles, Howlers, and exploding envelopes since four hours prior to dawn. Severus was tired of it, and felt fully confident that Remus would find a suitable way to dispose of his hate mail.

Or perhaps Dung will simply hex the letters, and then send them back, he thought wistfully. It would have been nice to see his obnoxious correspondents get a dose of their own medicine.

Shaking his head, Severus knocked on the old door, noticing belatedly that the old silver serpent was gone, replaced, instead, by a growling lion. Typical. He wanted to snort, but did not. Even if the house's owner was not currently in residence, doing so would be bad manners. He knew better. His own mother, rest her soul, would have haunted him forever for that.

The door opened to reveal a pretty red-haired woman whose vitality had not faded as the years passed. The war had aged many of their generation, but not Lily. Lily would always be timeless.

She smiled. "Severus! I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"I apologize for being late," he replied, trying not to return the smile--somehow, Lily always made him smile back. "Getting here was...complicated."

"I can imagine," she said quietly, then stepped aside. "Do come in."

"Thank you."

He had not been in the Black family home for decades, certainly not since before he'd joined the war. After his seventh year at Hogwarts, everything had changed, and the old social circle had shattered...a circumstance that's happening he did not very strongly regret. They had been so proud, in those days, so much better than the rest of the world. Back then, it had been so simple. So straightforward. Pureblooded wizards had the right to dominate the others. No one questioned it. No one wondered. No one spoke out.

It took years of torturing and murdering and creating nightmares that he would never forget before the truth had dawned upon Severus, and he'd begun to realize that people like Lily Potter had been right all along. She was one of the most gifted witches in his generation, and she was a Muggleborn. If that hadn't taught him something, nothing would have, but the truth still took years to sink in. Finally, though, two decades after entering Hogwarts, Severus Snape could smile and call a Muggleborn witch a friend--and mean it.

"I've been working on this experiment all morning," Lily explained in her rational voice--Severus remembered that Sirius Black used to call it her 'professor' voice when he teased her at Hogwarts. "And I've come to the conclusion that I simply have to be missing something. It ought to be so simple, but without an Invigorating Potion ..."

"Your victims simply collapse."

She scowled. "Exactly."

"Honestly, Lily, I'm not sure how much good I can do for you," he replied, shrugging as they descended into the kitchen. "I will certainly brew the potion for you, but I don't think it will help. I think you need something more powerful."

"Like what?"

There was a cauldron of something brewing over the hearth, and Snape paused to sniff the air before answering. The smell was familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint why... "I'm not sure. Killing or neutralizing Dementors is risky, at best."

"I know. It's taken years of study to figure out what we need," Lily said seriously. "Now if we could only figure out how to give one person the energy to do it."

"What must be done?" he asked, eyebrows rising. And what is that smell?

"Love," Lily said quietly. "Bravery and love. You can't kill a Dementor, really, because they aren't alive. But you can cancel one out." She shrugged helplessly. "Or at least you ought to be able to, if you could muster enough strength."

"Hence the potion," Snape murmured thoughtfully. "I begin to understand." He nodded. "It's certainly worth the effort, anyway, even if it does not succeed. I can brew a batch for you within an hour."

Lily's smile was bright. "When is a good time for you?"

"Now," he said bluntly. "I have no classes this morning, and I'd rather not be at Hogwarts to receive my...letters."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I had no idea it was so..."

Severus shrugged off the apology. "It doesn't matter," he cut her off. "I'm accustomed to the hatred."

Lily swallowed, and he had to speak quickly before she could say something else that was too compassionate for his current mood.

"What is that potion, anyway?" Severus demanded, gesturing at the cauldron. The distraction worked, and Lily turned to stare at it.

"Horrible, isn't it?" she asked lightly. "It's James' medicine; we have to heat the potion before he can drink it, and heating charms nullify the effects. James says that doesn't quite taste as bad as it smells."

Severus snorted. "Who brewed it?" Foul-smelling potions were simply not the product of a genuine Potions Master. There were always ways to make things smell better.

"Martha Blackwood, the healer in charge of James' care," Lily replied immediately.

"Hm. No wonder why it..." Suddenly, he trailed off, feeling something prickle at the back of his neck.

"What is it?" she asked, and Snape felt his heart pounding. What if...?

"Do you have a list of ingredients, Lily?"

--------------

Broad daylight, sitting at the kitchen table. Laughter.

"Louise, I simply think that--"

Bang.

Louise Agnes Longbottom sat up straight in her chair, her dark eyes flashing warily. Although well over ninety, possessing a horribly bad back, and looking the part, she was one of the sharpest witches Alice had ever met. "What was that?"

"I don't--"

Crack. More felt than heard. More magical than physical.

Giggling. "They're coming to take you away! They're coming to take you away!"

"Shut up!" Alice growled, just as Louise demanded:

"Who?"

"Servants of the Dark one! Bringers or murder and mayhem!" The half-made giggle cut off abruptly. "Destroyers of all I held dear..."

Dead silence. Alice stared.

The ghost that Frank had irritatingly named Mister-I-Refuse-to-Tell-the-Longbottoms-My-Name-Because-I-Died-In-This-House-Before-the-Longbottoms-Got-Here shot straight upwards, disappearing through an antique chandelier and into the ceiling. But his voice lingered:

"Go, go, go, before they come! Run fast!"

Louise blinked. "What in the--"

"No time." Alice rocketed to her feet, grabbing the older woman's arm. "Let's go."

"Apparation--"

"No good. They have wards up." Half guiding and half dragging Louise with her left hand, Alice stretched her right hand out in an Auror's instinctive gesture. Immediately, her wand flew into her waiting fingers, the cool yew warming against her palm. Louise, too, had her wand out--she might have been old, but no mother of Frank Longbottom would ever go senile.

Quickly, they pounded through the kitchen and into the front hall, skidding around corners and aiming for the shortest route of escape. Alice could hear Louise's harsh breathing on her heels, but there was no time for worry. She'd released her mother-in-law's arm during their mad dash, but Louise was keeping up. She had to. They had not the seconds to spare for human frailty. However, their speed almost turned out to be as curse as a blessing. The pair had just come around the final bend, with the front doors in sight, when a transparent figure reared up out of the floor below the two witches.

"Not this way," Mister-I-Refuse-to-Tell-the-Longbottoms-My-Name-Because-I-Died-In-This-House-Before-the-Longbottoms-Got-Here told them, speeding towards the mahogany doors before either could object.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that ghost is trying to help us," Louise remarked.

Alice bit her lip. "I think he is."

--------------

Broad daylight, sitting at the kitchen table. Silence.

Three lifeless bodies stared blankly into a distance they would never see again. Three sets of matching brown eyes were glazed over and sunken into slack faces, never to clear again. Someone had obviously taken care in arranging the bodies after death: the little girl sat primly between her parents, her back straight and twin braids curling around her shoulders. The woman's platinum blonde hair was perfectly arranged, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Not a silver hair fell out of place on the husband's head, either, and his robes were immaculate, recently and neatly pressed.

Had it not been for the terror on their dead faces, the family might have been an image out of a Muggle painting, frozen in time at that kitchen table.

The table was dark cherry, with a red tint to it. The scrollwork adorning the legs and top was exquisite, marking the piece as a product of Colender's, the makers of the Wizarding world's finest furniture. The table was also exquisitely expensive, but that did not matter. Money was not an object. The family was well off.

Had been.

The table was beautiful, and everything would have looked perfect in a Muggle painting of the scene. Except for one thing--that dark shade of cherry was not meant to have such a red tint. The dark colors swirled and mixed with maroon, blending together almost perfectly. Almost.

There were words on the table.

This is what happens to those who resist.

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Screams echoed from the front hall as Alice and Louise rushed for the back stairs. They could hear the ghost taunting the intruders, screaming the same obscenities at the Death Eaters that he'd been hurling at the Longbottoms for years. Now, though, Alice did not mind. The sounds were welcome, because it meant that Voldemort's followers would be delayed just that one moment longer, and as she'd learned early on in Auror training, every moment counted.

But Louise was tiring, and that counted, too.

For once, she wished that her husband's family had not inherited a house as ancient and large as Glen Ridge. Had the house been any smaller and any less old, the trip from the front hall to the back exit would not have been so long or convoluted. Old houses, however (especially Wizarding houses), tended to be that way, and Louise's breathing was coming heavily at her back. They didn't have much time.

Frank's mother wheezed and almost collapsed, stumbling into Alice. The Auror barely managed to catch her balance and made a desperate grab for her mother-in-law, supporting Louise during precious moments that they did not have to waste. The old woman slumped against her momentarily, and then quickly straightened, as if refusing to feel her own weakness. Louise started to speak, but never got the chance.

Crack.

Again, the sound was not so much heard as it was felt. It was magical, and the signified that the wards were collapsing around them. For a split second, Alice felt the presence of sheer power, and wondered who it might be--but she knew. There was only one possibility, and she was suddenly very grateful that Neville and Frank were safe.

There were Death Eaters outside the back door, working their way in. She knew that without casting a diagnostic spell, just like she knew she was going to die.

"Run, Alice," Louise wheezed.

"What?" she demanded, spinning around to face the older witch.

"Go. You can make it alone." Frank's mother smiled Frank's sad smile. "I'm only holding you back."

"No," Alice stated flatly. "I'm getting you out of here."

"No you're not," was the surprisingly gentle reply. "I can hold them back, but I cannot run. I am too old."

"Not that old--" she tried.

Louise smiled knowingly. "Too old." She pushed Alice away. "Now go, Alice. Take the tunnel."

"But--" The old tunnel had occurred to Alice as an escape route the moment the attack had started, but she'd immediately discarded the notion. Not only was the tunnel's entrance all the way up on the third floor--physics in a Wizarding home simply didn't function in a normal manner--but the underground passageway was narrow and difficult to travel during the best of times. If Death Eaters caught up with someone in there...

"Go." The old woman turned, lifting her wand. She spared one last glance over her shoulder. "Quickly."

The stairs were only feet away, but still Alice hesitated. She'd spent her career protecting the innocent, dedicated her life to defending people like Louise Longbottom. If I cannot protect my family, who can I protect? Alice wanted to scream. She could not simply run while someone else defended her--but the understanding look in the old woman's eyes stopped her next objection.

"Go, Alice. Frank and Neville need you...and so does the world. Our world needs you far more than it needs a tired old woman."

"Louise..." she whispered, pleading.

Death Eaters came around the corner, no more than thirty feet up the hallway. Both witches jumped, but it was Louise who spun quicker, aiming her want at the intruders and firing off curses.

"Go, Alice!"

Louise bolted towards the enemy, leaving her daughter-in-law to stare at her back. Her bad back, Alice thought numbly. The one she always joked would kill her someday. A Death Eater's howl of pain snapped her back into the present, and even as she started to smile, Louise staggered. Green light flashed, then missed, and then again--

Alice ran. Hating every step she took, she pounded up the stairs, taking three and four steps at a time. Hot tears blurred her vision, and every instinct Alice possessed screamed at her to go back and fight. She was an Auror, for Merlin's sake--fighting Death Eaters was what she did. But she could not. Alice had seen the slender figure amongst the enemy. She had seen his glowing red eyes. More importantly, though, she knew what that meant. With Voldemort there, they should have both died.

If not for Louise. Fighting back tears as she ran, alice vowed to honor that sacrifice.

--------------

Their screams had echoed through the night, but those who had slain them did not care. This message was meant for another.

The Clearwaters had died to prove a point.

--------------

"This isn't right."

He was bent over the cauldron, leaning so close to the potion that his nose almost touched the surface. A few oily hairs hung around his face, but none, amazingly enough, escaped the ponytail Severus had put them in. Lily had only once before seen Snape so occupied with a potion that he tied his hair back, and that had been during the Potions N.E.W.T. in their seventh year. He'd gotten a perfect score on that test, a feat unheard of during the history of N.E.W.T. exams.

Lily only hoped that perfection would be equaled today.

"It's subtle," he continued. "Skillfully so....but not subtle enough."

"What is it?" Lily finally asked, unable to hold her impatience back any longer. This was the first time Severus had spoken in oven an hour; before he'd been studying the potion in absolute silence, casting light spells and then studying it more.

"Dark Magic at its finest," he murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, yes." Severus finally looked up at her, pulling his face away from the cauldron. His smile was almost as cold as his eyes, though it was lifeless, unlike the burning black orbs. Then abruptly, Severus shrugged, and the frozen look disappeared. He glanced back down at the cauldron, absently stirring the mixture with his wand. "What exactly did Blackwood tell you this was for?"

"A combination painkiller, muscle rejuvenator, and bone re-grower," Lily recited mechanically, still trying to register his words. Dark Magic?

He snorted. "It's a combination, all right."

"Of what?" she asked warily, feeling her heart leap solidly into her chest. Tell me it's not...

"Oh, this potion has everything she mentioned in it," the Potions Master replied. "Just not actively."

"What does that mean?" Lily was almost afraid to ask, almost afraid to wonder.

Snape looked up again, and this time he actually smiled. "Let's go see James."

On September 16, 1992, the Daily Prophet headline read: THE DEATH TOLL MOUNTS: David, Clarissa, and Marie Clearwater murdered in their home; Louise Longbottom slain by Death Eaters. The front page's picture showed the Dark Mark glowing green in the sky over a blue and white two-story house...and an identical mark over an imposing stone structure known to the Wizarding World as Glen Ridge.

Next to it was a dark picture of Hogwarts in the rain. HOGWARTS HEADMASTER REFUSES TO SACK DEATH EATER.

Seven small words though those were, they caused far more of a sensation than the news of further Death Eater attacks could. By now, the Wizarding World had almost become numb to death and destruction--but Hogwarts, Hogwarts, had long been a bastion of light and of hope. It was a symbol, and even those without children felt that the school had been tainted. Dumbledore, they whispered, had kept Hogwarts safe. But now a Death Eater freely roamed the ancient school's halls, and nothing was the same.

The media fueled the fire, students became afraid, and parents who had never cared about the war began to take sides.


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Author notes: Again, I apologize for the delay. We’ve been underway conducing testing that leads up to the ship’s final evaluation, so it’s been very busy. The good news is that I’ve plotted out the next ten or so chapters, and have come to the conclusion that I’ve long been afraid I’d have to. I’ve known it for quite awhile, though, even if I just now admitted it to myself. Promises Remembered may very well be too long for one story.

So, tentatively: 'Promises Defended'—Boyish oaths have the power to move the world, and one choice changed everything. Yet Sirius Black’s decision to remain the Potters’ Secret Keeper was not without risk, and now four friends are all that stands between their world and darkness.

Please let me know what you think in a review. Sequel: yes or no?