Chapter Ten: A Man I Used to Love
Alistair Bones was a decidedly odd-looking man, with a lanky form, black eyes, and dark tufts of hair that stuck out at odd angles like a messy halo. His reputation, however, was anything but angelic.
He regarded James coolly, peering at him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. His thin lips were pressed together into a straight line, and he tapped his fingers idly on the top of the wooden desk before him. The other members of the Wizengamot were silent, their gazes switching back and forth between James and Bones.
Finally, the older wizard said, “It seems to me, Mr. Potter, that this is entirely a waste of our time.”
Rodolphus Lestrange, standing next to James, allowed himself a brief smile of triumph.
“A waste of time?” James repeated incredulously. He forced himself to remain calm, to keep his anger in check, but it wasn’t easy. Alistair Bones was known for his pro-pureblood ideology, and while that allowed him to treat James with a modicum of respect, it did nothing to help Lily’s cause.
Fortunately, Lily was not present for this meeting with the Wizengamot. In fact, she didn’t even know the meeting was happening.
“The Wizengamot has more important things to do than chase down supposed clues that most likely don’t even exist,” Bones said severely.
“But if Remus Lupin was being followed…” James started.
“There is no evidence of that,” Bones snapped. “The only person who claims this is true is Lily Evans, and she is on trial for his murder. Of course she is looking to blame someone else.” Narrowing his eyes at James, he added, “She seems content to constantly misrepresent the truth, so I will not put much faith in anything she says now.”
“And the person who attacked Frank Longbottom? The Fiendfyre that destroyed Mr. Lupin’s home?”
“If you can call that hovel a home,” one of the witches sitting behind Bones muttered under her breath. Her blue eyes fixed thoughtfully on James for a moment, then contempt curled her lips.
The others around her smirked in agreement.
“Miss Evans was in Azkaban when that happened. It could not have been her,” James continued. “I’m not asking for the Wizengamot to drop the charges against her. I am not asking any of you to investigate. I will do the investigation myself, with the help of Auror Longbottom. I merely want to delay the trial a few days so that this possibility can be properly explored.”
“This possibility is an attempt on the part of the defendant and her counsel to waste our time,” Lestrange spoke up. He gave James a derisive look and added, “Potter has failed to provide any evidence of anything. All he has are tricks with which he hopes to deceive this illustrious council.”
“I agree,” Bones said, nodding firmly. He was presiding over this hearing and possibly Lily’s trial, and it was clear that he had already made up his mind.
But as James looked around at the rest of the Wizengamot members, he noticed with some interest that not all of them appeared to agree with Bones. Nobody was speaking up against him, but a few people shifted uneasily in their seats.
“But surely a few days delay would not be too much to ask to ensure that justice is properly pursued.”
Bones’ glare darkened and he leaned forward. His words dripping with venom, he asked, “Do you presume to tell us how to run this court?”
Lestrange snickered under his breath.
“No. No, of course not. I am merely expressing my…” Here James paused, searching about for the right words. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, but he refused to look away from Bones’ contemptuous gaze. “I am expressing my confidence in your desire for justice.”
Bones smiled slightly, a cold, unfeeling smile that sent shivers down James’ spine. “Of course.” He picked up a quill that was lying before him and fingered it slowly, rolling the feathers between his thumb and his forefinger. Contemplating the quill, he said, “It is my desire for justice that makes me unwilling to waste this court’s time on such pointless questions.”
“Fiendfyre is hardly pointless,” James spat, his anger finally breaking through. The fact that he’d managed to keep his temper for so long was actually rather remarkable, but he was now past any abilities for self-control. Marlene had warned him about this before he’d requested the hearing with the Wizengamot, and he’d barely listened to her.
Perhaps he should have spent more time preparing himself.
“Mr. Potter,” Bones said severely, “you are not an Auror…”
“And you’re not either!” James hissed.
There was a dead silence in the room.
Common sense and rational should have told James to stop speaking now, before he did more damage, but he paid no attention to that part of his brain. The anger hummed in his mind, blood rushing in his ears, and he could barely think beyond his own emotions.
“How can you believe that we should not investigate further? You let your own prejudice blind you to the obvious fact that someone tried to kill Longbottom! And that someone was not Lily Evans!”
“I assure you that I am blind to nothing!” Bones snarled, rising to his feet. Situated on the raised dais, he towered over James. “Do not presume to accuse me of not caring about justice or Longbottom.”
“And how are you showing your concern?” James scoffed. “By ignoring the attack on an Auror and refusing to investigate the claims of a defendant? All to further your own twisted pureblood aims!”
“That is enough!” Bones snarled. “This hearing is over.”
“Merlin, you’re not even going to vote?” James sneered. “Nobody else on the Wizengamot gets any say in this decision?”
There was some muttering in response to that, and Bones glanced around. James calmed down enough to look around as well, and he saw the look of resentment on the faces of many of the Wizengamot members. Clearly, they agreed with him that this wasn’t entirely Alistair Bones decision.
However, one glare from the man in question, and the muttering died down.
The hearing ended shortly after that, and James stormed out of the room, furious. Marlene was standing in the chilly stone corridor, waiting for him, and she took one look at his face and said nothing, whatever questions she wanted to ask dying on her lips. James stalked past her, and she walked quickly, matching his angry stride.
Neither looked back as the Wizengamot filed out of the room after them. But they heard the noise of the door opening and footsteps in the hallways, and then the rise and fall of Lestrange’s triumphant drawl.
James’ quickened his steps. They reached the bank of elevators at the end and entered immediately, a feeling of relief washing over him as the doors closed before anyone else reached them.
In the privacy of the elevator, Marlene glanced at him and said softly, “It didn’t go well.”
It wasn’t a question, but James answered anyway, “No, it didn’t. Alistair Bones had already made up his mind before we got there, and no one else in the Wizengamot would contradict him.”
Marlene nodded slowly, then glanced up at the few memos that zoomed around in the air above them like enchanted paper planes. “He’s friends with the Lestranges, James. He was never going to go against them.”
She opens the door and he’s standing there, before her very eyes, and she doesn’t know what to believe. He can’t be here, he truly can’t, because she hasn’t seen him in three years and it just doesn’t make sense. But he is there, and he’s gazing at her with a hunger and a longing that reminds her of their days at Hogwarts and afterwards, when she thought she could love him.
“Lily…”
There is something wrong, something off about the entire situation, and his eyes keep darting back and forth. He is afraid, she realizes, and he can’t seem to stand still. He shifts his weight back and forth nervously, and she watches him, her mouth hanging open.
“Lily,” he says again.
“Remus,” she answers.
“I… can I come in?”
She steps back quickly, allowing him to slip past her. He is thin and gaunt and his expression is shadowed and haunted. What things has he seen lately? What truths have stolen all the light from his eyes?
She feels numb. She doesn’t even understand how he can be here, standing in front of her. Three years. Three years. It doesn’t make any sense. And yet he is here, staring at her, his gaze filled with emotion.
He looks away, towards the window. She sees the fear again, and this time it sends a chill down her spine.
“Remus, what’s going on?” she asks, forcing out the words. She needs answers. After all this time, how can he walk back into her life? She knows whatever task Dumbledore sent him on three years ago was the final, irrevocable break in their relationship, so why does it feel like he belongs here?
“I can’t stay long, Lils,” he says. The nickname falls from his lips just like it always had, and she stiffens and wants to cry. He’s still not looking at her, but instead staring keenly at the window, and he says, “I think they’re watching me. I don’t want to lead them here, I don’t want…”
He stops, trails off.
She reaches for him, her hand hovering in midair only a few centimeters from his arm. He looks down at her fingers, and suddenly she drops them and steps back, away from him.
“Who is following you?” she asks, and some part of her wonders if she’s just speaking to fill the awkward silence.
He shakes his head, doesn’t answer.
“Remus,” she says, more urgency, more anger, in her voice. “Remus, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I found something,” he says. “But they want it back. I need to tell Dumbledore, I need to…” Again, he stops, eyes darting away. This time, they move to the door. He stares at it for a long moment, then shakes his head. “I can’t… If they’re following me, I can’t stay. I can’t lead them here, Lily. I can’t lead them to you.”
“Who are they?” she repeats, even though she knows the answer.
He pulls out a scrap of parchment with an address scrawled on it. “Please. I’m staying at this flat. Please… come over tonight. I can tell you then…”
“Tell me now,” she answers, and it is more of an order than a request.
“I… no. Tonight. Please.” He’s begging now, and she’s worried and scared, because this isn’t like him. This isn’t right. The Remus she remembers does not plead. Three years ago, he stormed away from her, out of her life, and didn’t look back. Three years ago, he put his desires and his needs and his sense of right and wrong above her, and he argued with her using a self-righteousness beyond anything she had ever seen.
So who is this person standing before her now? What happened to change him so much?
“Remus. Remus, stay,” she whispers. “I’ll put on some water for tea.” And she draws her wand and moves away from him, towards the kitchen. And he stands there and watches her, not arguing. She takes that for assent, and later wishes that she didn’t, because when she emerges from the kitchen once more, tea kettle in hand, Remus is gone.
And the scrap of parchment with the address remains, placed carefully on the table by the door.
She paused in the doorway of the room, eyes darting from the Aurors on either side of her to James’ frustrated expression. Something in his gaze must have worried her, because she entered with a slight trepidation in her step. The Aurors withdrew quickly, as they always did, leaving the defendant and her counsel alone.
James looked down at the table for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
Lily pulled out the chair and slipped into it, one hand reaching up and absently running through her hair. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and James thought idly that it was the first time she had started the conversation. Was she warming up to him as much as he was to her? Or had she simply become impatient?
“I asked the Wizengamot to delay the start of the trial,” James explained wearily. “There was some new evidence I wanted to investigate.”
Lily stared at him, looking torn. It was clear that she wanted to know anything she could about this new evidence, and also clear that she wanted to know what the Wizengamot had decided. The answer to one “ or both “ of those questions was troubling James, she could easily see that much.
“What is this evidence? Does it have to do with Remus? With why he was killed?” she asked finally.
James frowned, contemplating her. She was gazing at him with an open, earnest expression. One that appeared a lot more honest and upfront than any she had used in the past. He could only assume that she was beginning to trust him more, although, again, he didn’t know why. After all, their last meeting had been, at best, only barely civil and she had spent much of the time explaining how he had no understanding of what her life was like.
Aloud, he said, “Frank Longbottom was attacked when he went back to Remus’ place to finish up some of his Auror duties. Someone was there… maybe looking for something.”
“Looking for something?” Lily repeated, leaning forward with interest. “What?”
James pressed his lips together. “I think you know more about that than I do,” he answered a bit stiffly.
She eyed him for a moment, but comprehension dawned quickly. “The Headmaster visited you,” she said flatly.
It was not a question, but James answered anyway. “Yes, he did. He told me everything you had told him, and he told me all he could about what Mr. Lupin had been doing for the past few years.” James knew his voice was a bit harsher than necessary, that there was a thinly veiled accusation in his words. But she was his client and he should have heard all of this from her, and not from Dumbledore.
Why couldn’t she just trust him?
Lily blinked a few times and looked away.
In a slightly softer tone, James continued, “Whatever it was Lupin found while on his mission from Dumbledore, someone was looking for it.”
“Is it what got him killed?” Lily asked in a whisper.
“Maybe,” James replied. Then he sighed, and changed his answer. “Probably.” He didn’t know why some part of him suddenly wanted to protect Lily from the truth of all this. But it made him uneasy to sit here in this too-brightly lit room and so bluntly discuss the reason for her friend’s murder.
“Did they find it?” Lily asked warily. “And… is Frank okay? I mean, whoever attacked him… was he hurt?”
“I don’t know if they found what they were looking for,” James replied. “As for Longbottom, the woman… at least, he thinks it was a woman… She was wearing a hooded cloak, so he didn’t see her features, but… she attacked him with Fiendfyre.”
Lily’s eyes went wide. “Is he alright?” she demanded again, anxiously leaning forward.
“He escaped relatively unscathed,” James assured her, and she let out a breath of relief. “But the woman was looking for this missing object when he arrived. Whatever Lupin found… it’s still out there. Somewhere.”
Lily tapped her fingers idly against the wood of the table, lost in thought. Finally, she asked, “A woman?”
James nodded slowly.
“And she used Fiendfyre?”
Again, James nodded. He didn’t like the look in Lily’s eyes. It was an odd mix of revulsion and triumph, as though she had figured out the answer to something and didn’t like it. He opened his mouth to ask, but she had started speaking again.
“And the Wizengamot? What did they say when you told them this? What did they decide?”
“I told them only that Mr. Lupin thought he was being followed,” James answered, “and about the attack on Longbottom. Dumbledore requested that I keep the rest of it “ the exact details of Lupin’s mission and whatever it was that he found “ a secret.”
It did not take Lily any time at all to figure out the implications of that statement. “Dumbledore doesn’t think this is over.”
James didn’t answer. He had no doubt that Lily was a lot more aware of the details of this so-called Lord Voldemort given her friendship with Lupin and the two Longbottoms. But how much did she know? And her statement, her comment that this wasn’t over… was that in reference only to Remus’ death or to the broader possibility of the rise of this Dark wizard?
Lily, though, didn’t seem to notice his silence. She was too deeply lost in her own thoughts.
Finally, James said, “The Wizengamot refused to delay the trial. Alistair Bones is in charge… and I don’t think he cares for you much.”
“He was a friend of Bellatrix Lestrange’s in school,” Lily said numbly. She seemed to be considering something for a long moment, and then she looked up and said quietly, “Whatever happens at the end of the trial, will you… will you please look into this for me? If I can’t? I still want “ need “ justice for him.”
“Did you love him?” James asked, and then immediately cursed inwardly. What was he thinking, asking a client a personal question like that? Particularly a client who didn’t seem to trust or like him very much?
But to his surprise, Lily answered the question. “I did. I used to love him very much. But three years is a long time and… It seemed to me, Mr. Potter, that Remus stopped being the Remus I knew and loved after Alice died.”
“The desire for revenge can change a person,” James said quietly.
“I know,” Lily agreed. “But it was more than that. The missions he went on, the people and deeds he was confronted with… I can’t imagine what it was like for him. It couldn’t have been easy, constantly facing the discrimination of witches and wizards for being a werewolf, and the discrimination of werewolves for living among witches and wizards. And all the dangers of the mission. I am not sure that I was as understanding of the trials he faced and the changes he underwent as I should have been.”
James could think of absolutely nothing to say in response to that, so he simply sat there, silent, waiting for her to either continue speaking or clearly indicate that she was finished with the subject.
“He was different. After that first year… He didn’t see what it was doing to him. He didn’t see what Dumbledore’s missions were doing to him. I loved him and he changed and couldn’t even see it. But maybe… I didn’t love him the way he loved me. Maybe if I had loved him more, I would have been okay with him changing. Maybe if I had been in love with him… I don’t know.”
She gave a watery smile and shook her head a little, as though shaking herself out of a reverie. She looked embarrassed, and only met James’ eyes for a moment before letting her gaze drop to the ground. James wasn’t really sure why she was suddenly telling him all this after having withheld information or lied at every other one of their meetings, and it appeared that she was a little surprised by the sudden honesty, too.
He hesitated, wondering if he should push his luck now. But the curiosity in him refused to let go, and finally he found himself leaning forward and asking quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
She looked at him sharply, one eyebrow raised. “My love for Remus?” she asked incredulously.
James flushed. “No. I meant… everything else. Lupin’s missions for Dumbledore, that he found something before he came back. That he actually came to your home instead of sending you an owl? And why did you lie about your friendship with Narcissa Mafloy?”
She shrugged and did not answer.
“It makes a difference, Miss Evans. Can’t you tell that I’m on your side?”
“Are you?” she asked skeptically.
James frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes,” he snapped, annoyed. How could she question him? Hadn’t he told her, over and over, that he only wanted to help her? That he was the one trying to keep her out of Azkaban while everyone else wanted to make sure she ended up there?
She pursed her lips, green eyes flashing. “And what is it you are trying to do for me?” she asked.
James blinked. “I’m trying to keep you out of Azkaban,” he answered fiercely.
In a tone just as fierce, she replied, “But that isn’t what I want!” She pushed her chair back and looked away from him. “You still don’t understand, Mr. Potter, what it is that matters to me.”
“I told you that you can’t pursue justice for Lupin unless…”
“I am out of Azkaban,” Lily finished for him. “I know.” She slanted a look at him, then let out a long breath, “And do you really think I can avoid Azkaban? I got lucky with Malfoy. Lestrange isn’t going to let me go this time.”
James opened his mouth to argue, but found he didn’t know what to say. Lily’s earlier accusation that, as part of the privileged wealthy pureblood elite, he really could not comprehend the realities of her life, came back to him.
He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. He saw Lily’s lips quirk upwards at the way his hair stuck out at odd ends, and he tried to flatten it.
It didn’t work.
“So you’ve pretty much assumed that I have been wasting my time all along?” he asked.
“Haven’t you?” she replied.
Again, the silence. It was getting to be a fairly common occurrence in this meeting. He didn’t know what to say to her, and it was clear that she didn’t know what to say to him.
“It might have been less of a waste of time if you hadn’t lied to me in the beginning,” he muttered at last.
“How was I suppose to know that you would be different from everybody else?” Lily countered.
He stared at her. “Everybody else?”
“I haven’t spoken to Frank in years. Remus and Alice are dead. I don’t have friends, Mr. Potter, just enemies. And then you come here with your insistence on helping me. But your goal was so clearly to stop Lestrange, to best him somehow. You were not interested in helping me, not really. And you certainly weren’t interested in helping Remus.”
“And you care more about Remus than you care about yourself?” James asked. Lily looked at him, her eyes clearly indicating her disbelief that he could even be asking her that. He felt almost guilty to be implying that she should be concerned about her own future. But… “Miss Evans, Lupin is dead. There is only so much you can do for him now. But you’re still alive. You need to be thinking about that.”
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Have you ever lost anyone?”
He bristled. “Both my parents are dead. Dragon pox.”
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then said, “If they had been killed, wouldn’t you want to know why? Wouldn’t you want justice? Even if it put your own life, your own future, at risk?”
He thought of his parents, old and warm and always doting on him, and found he did not need to imagine much to figure out what his response to their murders would have been. An anger welled up in him, filling his chest and spreading into his blood. It gripped him tightly, and for a moment, he felt pure fury.
It must have shown on his face, because Lily gave him a pointed look. “I’m not throwing away my future on a whim, Mr. Potter. I’m focusing on Remus because I loved him. And because I am honest enough to know that, even if you do somehow manage to keep me out of Azkaban, I still do not have much of a future. Lestrange will see to that, and Narcissa, too.”
James gripped his hands into fists under the table. When did the society become so twisted that someone could be convinced she would be convicted before the trial ever began?
Or had it always been like that, and he just didn’t know because he spent all his time with the elite, away from the day to day discrimination faced by Muggleborns and part-humans?
He rose to his feet. “Marlene picked up some robes again. I’ll make sure they get delivered to you. Probably the next time I see you will be at the trial.”
Lily rose as well. “You don’t want to meet to discuss your plan for the trial?” she asked in surprise.
“The prosecution will present their case first,” James answered. “I have a few ideas for who I want to testify on your behalf, but I want to see what Lestrange says and does before I decide anything for certain.”
“Alright,” she agreed.
He paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “Is there anything else I should know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have anything else to tell you, Mr. Potter. I think we’ve covered everything.”
He pulled open the door. The Aurors outside instantly came to attention, tensing with their wands out, their eyes on Lily. She was still standing by the table, red hair falling over her thin shoulders and tattered robes, a very weary expression on her features. She looked small and tired and resigned to the inevitable future, and he wished there was something he could say to offer her comfort.
But he could not promise to save her from Azkaban.
So, instead, he said, “Whatever happens, I promise I will keep looking into this. I’ll try to get justice for him, Miss Evans, even if you can’t.”
She started, and then smiled faintly. “I… thank you, Mr. Potter. Thank you.”