#sirius returns from the veil and suffers but eventually is happy

[impishtubist]

seven line saturday

thank you for the tag, @lynxindisguise and @femme--de--lettres!

“Uncle George, do you have anything for me to test today?” Teddy asks eagerly, and Harry shoots George an apologetic look. George laughs.

“I’m sure I can find something. Come on into the back. We can show Padfoot where the magic happens.” 

The back room is more extensive than the shop itself. It’s clear that this is where George does all of his product development, testing, and manufacturing. 

“Quite an impressive operation you’ve got here,” Sirius says.

“Thanks. It’s grown a lot since the war. Oliver’s the only reason our doors stay open. I don’t have the time or patience to manage all the details of running a business.”

Sirius looks askance at Harry, who says, “Oliver Wood. Former captain of the Gryffindor team, and George’s boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” George corrects with a smile, and Harry’s eyes widen.

Open tag because I have anxiety! 

[simplynotaneggworks]

Request by @Kaithepieman

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: None Rating: All Audiences Category: Sad?? Word Count: 947 Words Request: “Marauders fic, maype about 5 or so chapters long. Basically just random antics and them being cute friends. Maybe have them cause some kind of havoc about Hogwarts, or them messing with McGonagall (and they get stuck in a classroom or something)” A/N: So here’s the thing. I was requested this two months and a day ago and I tried to write something about this because I would love to see it, but I did not know how to do it in an efficient way. So, instead I wrote something centered around a specific Marauder, Remus, because I know that you (Kai) will at the very least like it, before saying you hate me because I made it sad like I always do 🙃 Anyhoo, read away.

March 10th 1960.

After hours of labour, Remus John Lupin was born to Hope and Lyall Lupin. A quiet child, he was, ever since the day he was born, yet happy and joyful and bright, until the age of four.

The night was quiet and peaceful, as was Remus, who slept soundly in his bed, although, during the middle of the night, he couldn’t shake away the feeling of being watched. Eventually, he ended up waking, due to the noise of his window being forced open.

Remus Lupin, age four, was forcefully turned into a werewolf, due to his father’s ill-mannered speech, and on that fateful night, no longer was Remus a bright, joyful child, but instead a child of loneliness and solitude.

Remus Lupin, aged eleven and a half, was fearful as he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express for the very first time, scared that someone would find out his secret. He met two boys that day, on the train; James Potter and Sirius Black.

By the time Christmas came around, he was confident that no one would discover his secret. His monthly excuses were working, and he begun to come out of his shell. He had befriended the two boys he had met on the train, and the three then befriended a small boy by the name of Peter Pettigrew.

Their years at Hogwarts were filled with excitement and joy, but, most importantly, fun. The four called themselves ‘The Marauders’, in careful reference to their behaviour towards the students and staff; pranking and joking with them for days on end.

By the time fifth year came around though, his excuses stopped working. The scars he received from himself during transformations becoming more and more prominent. It was James who figured it out initially, and upon confronting Remus, the latter broke down into tears. He had always been scared of his best friends knowing his secret, fearing they would abandon him on the spot.

Instead, the three of his friends suffered through the gruelling process of becoming animagi, and by January, Remus stopped having as many scars, being accompanied by his best friends turned animals. James, a stag, Sirius, a dog, and Peter, a rat.

Remus went on to graduate Hogwarts with some of the best marks ever achieved by a student, and his friendship with the boys, now men, lasted many more years. He attended James’ wedding, to a friend they knew from school, Lily, and he was there when their son was born. But he was also there when they died, and when Sirius went to Azkaban for the alleged murder of their friend Peter.

For years, Remus was alone once more. Three friends dead, and one in prison, and James’ son, Harry, in the care of his Aunt Petunia, separated from the wizarding world, unknowing of his background or importance to wizards and witches alike.

Twelve years it took for Remus to find the slightest drop of happiness once more, on the Hogwarts Express, on the way to Hogwarts, although returning as a Professor, not a student. For one year he served as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, teaching students, but most importantly, the son of his best friend, the way to survive in the face of danger. By the end of the year, a friend had also returned to him; Sirius. Proven to be innocent when Peter’s name showed on the map the four had created once upon a time.

But only two years did this joy last, as Sirius fell, through the veil, never to be seen again. And Peter, there was no hope for. A traitor, he had been, to the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Once more, Remus was alone, for what seemed the millionth time in his life, but soon, there was a light, one brighter than any other had been. He had fallen in love, and the young auror working with the Order reciprocated his feelings.

The two were quick to marry, up in the north of Scotland, as the war raging around them worsened. Only one month after they wed, it was revealed that Remus was to have a child. He had never imagined such a thing to happen in his life, and the moment he was told he was filled with joy, but there was also fear eating away at his mind. What if the child was like him? A sufferer of what was known as lycanthropy.

Fate, for one of the first times, was on his side though, as the boy he and his wife named Edward, or Teddy for short, was born in perfect health, although his hair changed colours quite frequently within the first hour of his life on Earth.

He appointed Harry godfather, after which he spent as much time as he could with his son, which proved to be feeble, as only days later he found himself at Hogwarts once more, battling against the Dark Lord and his followers.

But soon, he laid, side by side with his wife, on the stone floor of the Great Hall, still and unmoving. In his last moments on Earth, he thought about all those times, from the time he was bitten, to meeting his friends, to marrying the love of his life.

And for a moment, he worried for his son, but then smiled. He was in safe hands. He had Harry.

Moments later he found himself, reunited with his friends once more, and as unfortunate as it was for him to have left others he loved on Earth, it was certain that no longer would he be lonely, and in time others would join them, and all would be a family once more.

[mymindsmadness]

𝐹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈

Happy MyTake!Monday all!

This Monday I wanted to share something I’ve been messing around with for a while. Several drafts of this have been sitting in my folder forever. It was something I really liked the concept of, but wasn’t sure I could do justice. As of right now, it’s just a one-shot, but I’ve considered writing more. If I do, it probably won’t be every Monday, just for the simple fact that this took me so long to stop messing with. Either way, Enjoy!

Rating: T (as of right now)

Warnings: I’m very much an American. I try to get a lot of the terminology and whatnot as close as I can to not take people out of it, but nothing is perfect. Also, I suffer from insomnia. It doesn’t sound bad, but a lot of my editing was done under sleep deprivation. 

Notes: If you guys like this, make sure to leave a comment. As I’ve said, this is a one-shot right now. For me to even consider writing more, I’d have to know that people were actually enjoying it!

Summary: When Voldemort killed Harry, it was not Dumbledore he met at King’s Cross, but an angel of fate. Harry threw his fate off course, and she’s not happy about it. There is only one thing to do. Start over. 

Although Harry knew death would come quickly, he hadn’t quite understood it until he was standing in the ghostly version of King’s Cross Station. Was this… heaven? Did wizards even believe in such a thing? It didn’t seem like the heaven Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went on and on about every Sunday after church. There were no puffy clouds or harps. Most importantly, there were no people. Where were his parents? Where was Sirius or Remus or Tonks? Maybe this was some kind of… purgatory? Harry shuttered at the thought. Had he not done enough? Had he not earned his right to be with them? His whole life he had been nothing but a puppet on a string, dancing by the will of others. In the end his life wasn’t even his, but he sacrificed it anyway. If that hadn’t been enough to re-

His thoughts were cut off by his own (admittedly, embarrassingly high-pitched) scream as he turned to find a woman not much other than himself sitting on one of the pearly benches. She looked serene in this place that wasn’t a place. Her eyes were a haunting silver to match everything else around her, but her hair was a wild nest of black curls. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He didn’t know why, but he had expected her voice to echo within the not-place.

Nervously, Harry wiped his hands down the front of his trousers. “Err – not your fault I suppose.” He tried for a polite smile, but the twitching of her full lips told him he had failed. “Where are we? It looks like King’s Cross…”

“I suppose it does. Though, I’ve never seen it in person.” She hummed, her expression neutral as she looked around. “I think it’s supposed to be symbolic. Either way it came from your subconscious, so it’s hard to say.” She shrugged and moved to one side, patting the bench beside her.

He hesitated, his nerves from being on the run still frazzled. But what was the worst that could happen? He was already dead after all. Carefully, Harry moved to sit beside the woman. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

Again her lips twitched as those sharp mercury eyes turned to him. “I know who you are, Harry Potter.” She hummed again, taking in his appearance. “I’ve been watching you since you were a baby.”

Many people had watched Harry his whole life, it seemed. Still, a chill of unease worked its way up his spine. “Are you… an angel then?” She certain looked angelic enough, if not for the mass of untamed curls that reminded him slightly (unnervingly) of Bellatrix’s.

“In a sense.” Her tone was light. “I’m a fate weave. One that happens to be in charge of your fate line.” His confusion must have been clear because she continued on. “The Greeks had it right – for the most part. Every person on earth has a fate line. Like… a thread that represents a path. You still have freewill, so sometimes that thread gets knotted. It typically sorts itself out, or it had been. Everyone’s thread is woven together into a… tapestry of sorts.” Standing, she held out her hand a moment before a wall of what appeared to be glowing, golden yarn appeared next to her. He couldn’t see the top, as it faded well above the not-place. The edges stuck out over what would have been the tracks, going on for quite some time. Most of the lines ended before it reached the thin frame that held it in place. It didn’t have a particular pattern, and there were loose ends sticking out in places, but it was… beautiful. Harry could have sworn he heard it humming in the silence of the ghostly King’s Cross. There was something about it that humbled him... made him feel insignificant for the first time in years.

“So that - that’s everyone on earth right now?” He asked, standing slowly. Millions of tiny strands, each practically dancing between several others, humming and pulsing it’s siren’s song. “Their fate lines I mean.”

“This is just a small portion.” Standing on her toes, she pointed to a strand of thread, following it with her finger. “This one is yours.” She came to the first small knot. “This is Ron Weasley’s… and a little further down, Hermione Granger’s.” The bands wove together into an elegant braid, at least, from what Harry could see. “You don’t know how hard it was convincing the fate weaver in charge of her line to keep her out of Ravenclaw. In the end, we knew it was for the greater good.”

Hearing their names hurt. He would never see them again. Here he was learning about their lives - their fates that were changed because of him. Maybe this wasn’t heaven or purgatory. Maybe this was hell. Sure, Harry hadn’t been horrible during his time on earth, but he hadn’t been a saint either. “Why are you telling me these things?” It didn’t seem possible in this not-place, but Harry felt… tired. He had been so tired for so long.

“Because you knotted your line.” The woman’s face had been a mask of calm until that point. At this, she looked distraught. “You really mucked it up, you know! I worked day and night to keep you on track, and then you threw your line off course with a bit of idiocy and panic! Because of that, several others were changed.” She pointed to a few loose ends before landing on a tight knot along his own line.

It wasn’t like the small knots that represented his life with Ron and Hermione. This was a nest of tangles that reminded him very much of that one time his Uncle Vernon made him spend the day unknotting Christmas lights. From the sides of the knot, several edges frayed and stuck out in all directions. Only a handful went on after that. Harry’s, he noticed, did not end. “Those ends… are they…”

“Deaths.” She hummed. “I’m going to get demoted now…” Her tiny tone of distress wasn’t meant for him this time.

“So you’re telling me… it’s all planned? I never had a choice at all, and I would always end up here? Dead?” A weight settled in Harry’s stomach that almost made him feel dizzy. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I fought Voldemort or just enjoyed my time with my mates?”

“Of course it mattered, Harry.” Her voice was gentle, her eyes soft. It was almost worse to be pitied. “Typically fate is set, that much is true. You would have always ended up here, but the journey could have been much better for everyone. You’re the first person I’ve ever met that managed to rewrite the outcome of several lives. In fact, this wasn’t meant to be your last stop at all. You were meant to go back.”

“Cheers.” Harry nearly barked. Of course he was the exception. “If fate is set, I don’t see how I could have rewritten it in the first place.”

“It’s like…” She paused, biting her bottom lip before reaching into her nest of hair and producing a hairpin. “This pin is meant to hit the floor, yeah?” She waited for him to nod. “It’s this pin’s fate to land on the floor. It will do so. I want you to try and rewrite its fate.” She released it.

It was only through war-trained senses and years of playing seeker that Harry was able to reach out and grab the hair hairpin mid-air. Holding it up for her to see, he raised an eyebrow feeling satisfied with himself. “That wasn’t very hard. I’m surprised more people don’t rewrite their fate.”

“But you haven’t rewritten it.” She pointed out, a smug smile lighting her face. “Its fate is the same. You might not put it down now, but I imagine you don’t intend to carry it with you always. Maybe to make a point you would for a while, but sooner or later you’ll forget it. Eventually, it will fulfill its destiny. We can manipulate or alter the roads humans take based on their choices, but the outcome will always be the same… except... in your case.”  

“Look, I’m sorry miss…” He balled his fist around the hairpin, willing it to dig into his skin and take away some of his pain.

“Lyra.” She offered, her eyes moving to his fate line in dismay. “Lyra Black.”

Harry’s anger left him in an instant. “As in the Black family? Sirius Black?” It would make sense, now that Harry thought about it. She had the eyes and hair for it, though she looked younger than Sirius.

“Yes.” She was smiling again now, the tapestry nearly humming in protest as she turned from it. “I was his aunt - or second aunt’s cousin? It’s all terribly confusing when it comes to pureblood lines. I never cared for them. I am sorry about him passing through the veil, love. You’ll be happy to know he talked my ear off about you when he passed through here.” She gave him a small smile. “But where were… ah yes.” She pointed to the beginning of the large, unsightly knot. “Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry was still processing the information about his godfather when she mentioned the name. He scoffed, taking a step back in shock. “Lucius Malfoy screwed up my timeline? I should have known-”

“No, no. Don’t be silly.” She waved him off with her free hand. “Draco Malfoy. You used a spell on him… Sectumsempra. Nasty bit of work. Poor dear.”

“P-Poor dear!?” Harry’s anger returned in a flood. “He was going to crucio me! I’ve been fighting a war while he sat on his arse having tea with the dark lord! I hardly think-“

“Don’t be daft.” He was cut off by the sharpness of her gaze. It was easier to her relation to Bellatrix at that moment. “He was a scared child. Don’t you remember what Voldemort told you when you tried to use the cruciatus curse on Bellatrix? He wasn’t wrong when he said that you have to mean it. I hate to be the one to tell you this, Harry, but Draco wouldn’t have meant it. You weren’t meant to hurt him that day, you were meant to save him. 

“He never wanted anyone’s life on his hands. Why do you think he didn’t give you to Voldemort when he had the chance? Doing so would not only have saved his family, but given them a standing social status in the new world. He chose to save your life instead.”

Harry blinked, his eyes moving back to the tapestry. The gaudy knot stuck out more than anything else. Was it true? Was it all true? Part of Harry wanted to believe that Malfoy had not recognized him that day at the manor, but the larger part knew that he had. “I was meant to… save Malfoy? That’s ridiculous! Dumbledore tried!”

“Well Albus wasn’t meant to save him, now was he? Keep up, Potter!” He couldn’t argue with that. “Because you found that blasted book, everything was thrown off. Several deaths could have been avoided and now- are you alright? You’ve gone a bit green.”

Deaths. More death was on his hands. It had been more than just cutting Malfoy open, which he had already felt terrible about… he had killed people. “I think I need to sit down…” He sunk back into the bench behind him as the tapestry flew upwards and out of sight, making the not-place seem even emptier. “All those people… I could have…” He took a deep, shaky breath.

“You still can.” Harry’s chin jerked upwards to meet Lyra’s determined gaze. Suddenly, she looked a great deal more like Sirius than Bellatrix. “It’s against the rules, you see... There will be some things that you cannot change. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. However… if we can unknot the tapestry, you’ll get the fate you deserve and I won’t get sacked.”

Harry wasn’t sure how an angel could even get sacked, but he imagined it wasn’t pleasant. What did she mean? Did she want him to dabble in bringing the dead back? He had no desire to make Inferi, and he didn’t know of any other way. “I… I won’t bring them back to life.”

“Of course not, Harry.” She rolled her eyes. “But what if you could go back to that moment? What if you could do it all over knowing what you know now?”

In the back of his mind something prickled dangerously. It sounded an awful lot like Hermione warning him not to meddle with time. But what if he could. He would still be a horcux… he would still have to fight… but maybe, with more time, he wouldn’t have to die. Not like this. “Okay… yes. I want to do it over.”

Her smile was cat-like as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Chin up Harry. You’re going to love where this leads.”

As everything faded to white, the last thing Harry saw was the glint of light off the small black hair pin sitting quietly on the floor... 

 Also being posted to AO3 (in case). You can follow it HERE

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