Remember Me

Remus shivered in his thin clock, peering through the thick onslaught of rain. Water splashed inside his tattered boots, making his feet numb from the cold.

Tonks tripped over a loose stone in the pavement, and he automatically steadied her as she stumbled. The girl nodded her thanks and let go of his arm. They walked on ahead. The streets were empty – no Muggles were around apart from an old man singing in the doorway to the pub.

The rain was so thick it was hard to see through. Remus wished he’d thought to wear warmer clothes, as his thin robes offered little warmth.

There had been no time to think of such details.

His eyes burned with the effort of suppressing the tears that threatened to engulf him. He tilted back his head, letting the salty taste of them run down his throat. Beside him, Tonks was crying. He wished she hadn’t come; though she presented a calm persona when dealing with situations such as these, he knew what it cost her. After missions similar to this one Remus had had to comfort her as she wept uncontrollably on his shoulder, the steely glint in her eyes chased away by tears. She was too young to be involved in things like this, but no one had been able to keep her away.

The pale glow from the streetlamps fell onto the cobbled street. He saw them as pale fingers reaching through the night. He had no need of the light – that was one advantage of being a werewolf, he thought dryly. Night vision.

However, he was sure Tonks must be glad of it; though being able to see made no difference to her clumsiness.

How strange that it had happened here again.

The statue of his friends flickered and came into view in front of them. Lily and James, their faces smiling as they gazed down at the small boy in his mother’s arms. James would have liked being a statue; Remus could well imagine how James would crow with delight when seeing his face portrayed in bronze…and how he would then complain that they hadn’t got the nose right.

The two moved on through the storm, Remus fighting down memories. Memories of his school days did not hurt him now, as they had a few years before. He liked to remember.
Nobody knew of this. When he heard, it had taken him by surprise. Who was carrying out Voldemort’s wishes, when the darkest of wizards was believed dead and gone?
The house loomed before them, and he could see clearly the extent of the damage. The small cottage had been destroyed. It was hard to believe that a living person could be breathing under the rubble of bricks.

Tonks went through the gate first, her wand tip lit as she went up the garden path. Burnt patches of grass destroyed the lawn. Someone had planted pansies there. The bright colours looked out of place in the dismal scene.

“Should we…” Tonks asked, turning to him for conformation. Remus nodded his consent, and took out his own wand.

“Reparo.”

The rubble that lay at their feet was lifted into the air, bricks stacking themselves neatly, glass flying back into empty window frames. The roof tiles fell into position. There was even a trail of smoke coming from the newly repaired chimney.

Remus blinked the wetness out of his eyes and opened the blue front door. Inside, it was as if nothing had ever happened. A grandfather clock was chiming out the hour next to a small table. Flowers were placed in a vase nearby, the water swilling as Remus walked past them. Behind him, he felt Tonks shiver. She was too young to be seeing this, she should not have volunteered.

Remus took a sharp right into the lounge and closed his eyes at the sight he saw. The man and woman lay still on the beige carpet that blood was still sinking into. The two corpses were side by side, mangled and torn. Tonks let out a chocking gasp as she bent down beside the man and stroked his light hair away from his bruised face.
“She’s not here,” she said, wiping her nose silently.

Remus relaxed his grasp on the worn wood of his wand as he listened hard. Another gift that came to werewolves – exceptional hearing.

And then he heard it. A small cry from upstairs.

He didn’t stop to wait for Tonks; he hurtled up the stairs and into a canary-yellow room. A small toddler was sitting on the floor, her pudgy legs curled underneath her, butter-yellow curls framing her round face, which was red as her cries rose to a crescendo.
“Sh…” He took her in her arms, ignoring her screams and kicks as she realised he was a stranger. “Shh…”

He had believed it was all over, that things like this wouldn’t happen anymore. The young orphan bawled loudly in his arms, and he didn’t know how to comfort her.
Remus took her downstairs. Tonks was waiting for him in the hall. They shared a meaningful glance. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relived or sad, as he moved quickly past the lounge so the infant would not see the mangled bodies of her parents on the floor. “Shh now…”

Tonks had the baby now, talking to it, soothing it, a waterfall of meaningless words flowing from her lips and the toddler stopped her crying as she smiled and patted Tonks’s face with a fat hand.

“What now?” asked Tonks, gently bouncing the baby in her arms.

“We need to take her to Dumbledore,” Remus replied, stepping out of the house. He didn’t want to be in there a second longer than he had to. The blood-stained floor kept filling his mind, making him shudder from the horror of it. “He’ll know what to do.”

She nodded, and together they turned on the spot. The house disappeared from their sight, looking perfect in every way, ornaments and pictures still standing.

A memory from another life.