FIC: The Revenant, Chapter 2b of 13

[geri_chan]

Title: The Revenant, Chapter 2b
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~5,955
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for Hob, who belongs to William Mayne, and Death, who belongs to Neil Gaiman; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning: AU; written pre-HBP
Sequel to:  Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, and Aftermaths.
Summary: James watches over Harry, and gets a look at the past from another perspective. While stuck in the waiting room, he encounters an old enemy.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2a

***

...into a lushly appointed parlor, with armchairs and a couch upholstered in velvet, and expensive rugs laid on the polished wooden floor. A silver tea set was laid out on a nearby table. It was the sort of room one would expect to see in the mansion of a wealthy pureblood family, a reception room where guests were brought to rest and receive refreshment while they waited for the Lord or Lady of the Manor to attend them. And the Lord or Lady would always make them wait, even if they arrived at the appointed time, just to demonstrate their power. A token few minutes, if the guest was one that they actually wished to see, or possibly hours, if the person was someone they held in contempt. This was, James realized with a start, a waiting room like his own, only with different trappings--Death had said that there were others who had refused to move on, and that they all had their own waiting rooms. This was the waiting room of a high-ranking pureblood. There was no television in the room, of course, but there was a large silver-framed mirror hanging on the wall that seemed to be showing some sort of Death Eater ceremony. A number of robed figures were standing in a circle around a stone altar where a thin, scruffy-looking man was screaming as he was being attacked by the enchanted roses that Voldemort had taken from the Rosier mansion.

A man with curly black hair sat on the couch, his head buried in his hands. He slowly looked up after James fell into the room; his handsome face was streaked with tears. "P-Potter?" Evan Rosier asked incredulously.

"Rosier?" James asked, feeling just as stunned. He knew that Evan Rosier had died before he had, of course, but he had never expected to find Rosier trapped with him in this state of limbo, hanging between the world of the living and the world of the dead. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, then wondered if perhaps Hell was exactly what Rosier was afraid of. He had killed many people as a Death Eater; maybe he was afraid to face whatever punishment he might meet in the afterlife.

But Rosier just gave him another incredulous look, this time with a hint of impatience, as if the answer should be obvious and James was incredibly stupid. "The same as you, I expect, Potter," he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I stayed behind to watch over my son. And Ariane, of course. But mostly to watch over Dylan. Ari is an adult, and she knows how to defend herself. But my son..." His voice dropped to a whisper and turned wistful. "I didn't even know that Ari was pregnant until just before I died. I...I had to stay; I couldn't leave without even seeing his face. And then he was a baby, helpless and vulnerable, raised in exile, disgraced by my crimes. I had to watch over him, to be sure that my enemies did not try to harm him..."

"Your enemies?!" James roared, suddenly furious. He grabbed Rosier by the front of his robes and shook him. "Yes, you've got enemies, you selfish, sadistic bastard! How many innocent people have you and your friends tortured and killed? How many children have you left fatherless or motherless? Why should you get to watch over your son, when you've torn apart so many families? Your son at least still has his mother--mine was left an orphan by that madman you call 'Master'!" Blind with rage, he punched Rosier in the face; Rosier automatically hit him back, and then suddenly they were rolling across the floor, flailing at each other wildly. But strangely, although most of the blows connected, they didn't seem to hurt.

"Knock it off, you idiots!" a female voice shouted, and someone firmly grabbed each of them and tore them apart from each other. James looked up to see Death holding them by the collars of their robes, as if she were holding a couple of kittens by the scruffs of their necks. She glared at them both and gave each of them a good shake. "You're both dead, you morons!" she snapped. "You can't hurt each other."

"Oh," James said sheepishly. "I didn't think of that."

Death rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Both of you have a problem with acting before you think, which is partly why you wound up here in the first place." And then she released them and pushed them away from her with a disgusted sigh.

"That's not fair!" James protested. "I protected my family as best I could; I even went into hiding in a Muggle village. It's not my fault that Voldemort made a sneak attack on our cottage! How was I to know that Peter would betray us?"

"You should've picked your friends more carefully, Potter," Rosier said contemptuously. "I never would have entrusted the safety of my family to that cowardly little rat Pettigrew."

"Why you--" James snarled, balling up his hands into fists again, temporarily forgetting Death's admonishment that it was pointless for them to hit each other.

But Death interrupted quietly, "Your choice of friends didn't turn out to be so great either, now did it, Evan?"

And then all the defiance seemed to rush out of Rosier like a balloon deflating. His shoulders slumped and his head hung down and his eyes filled with despair. Then he lifted his face to meet James's gaze and said bitterly, "Believe me, Potter, there is no worse punishment you could inflict on me than the one that I've already suffered. I wasn't afraid to die, because I thought my comrades would look after Ariane and my son, but I was wrong. None of them, except for Severus, tried to help her when she was accused of being a Death Eater; they were all too busy saving their own skins. None of them so much as sent her a letter, let alone paid her a visit during the years she lived in exile. None of them, again, except for Severus, tried to help Dylan when he was denied admission to Hogwarts. And my Master..." His voice cracked with anger and sorrow. "The Master that I revered, that I was willing to give my life for, betrayed me. Instead of offering my son a place of glory, he forced him to join the Death Eaters by threatening to kill Ariane. He used my son as a pawn to steal the family treasure, risked Dylan's life to awaken the roses."

"Don't expect any sympathy from me, Rosier," James said coldly. "How do you think I felt when Voldemort possessed Quirrell and tried to kill Harry? Or when the Basilisk nearly killed him? Or when the Dementors attacked him? Or--"

"I get the picture, Potter," Rosier interrupted. "I don't expect any pity from you. But you misunderstand me. As horrible as it is, the worst part of my godforsaken existence here isn't watching my son face danger and not being able to protect him."

"Then what is?" James asked, still angry, but puzzled as well.

Rosier's eyes filled with tears. "It's watching him grow up without me," he whispered. "It's watching him turn to Severus for help and comfort when he's frightened or hurt. He calls me 'Dad' but it's Severus who has really been a father to him. It's Severus who has protected him when he was in danger, who has held him while he wept. And now even Lupin is closer to my son than I am." He laughed shakily. "Lupin is Snape's lover, so I suppose that he's sort of a what...surrogate mother? Surrogate father? To Dylan."

"Don't mock my friend," James snarled.

"I'm not," Rosier said. "Although I'd no clue that he was a werewolf, or that Severus had secretly been in love with him for years, until I saw it in the mirror." Rosier smiled briefly. "I'd had no idea that snarky little Snape could be such a romantic. No wonder he helped Ari and I to see each other even after her family and Malfoy had forbidden it. Because he had a forbidden love, too. Anyway, believe it or not, I'm grateful to your friend for helping Dylan. And to Severus. But it hurts so much, to know that someone else has taken my place as his father. Dylan loves me, but he doesn't really know me, except as some idealized image he's created in his head. I'm no more real to him than a character in a fairy tale, and I never will be." The tears he had kept in check now spilled out of his eyes and and slid down his cheeks.

James was shocked to see the proud Death Eater weeping in front of him, not even trying to hide his tears, but he said, "Don't expect me to feel sorry for you. If you have to watch your son grow up without you, it's no more than I've gone through, and you deserve far worse for all the crimes that you've committed. If you hate it so much, why don't you move on and face whatever punishment you've earned?"

Rosier laughed mockingly. "And why don't you move on and face whatever glorious reward that you've surely earned by being such a noble, self-sacrificing Gryffindor hero? Or are you afraid that your reward won't be so glorious after all? There's an old legend I read about once; it might have been Egyptian, but I don't really remember. It was something about a god who judges the newly-dead souls entering the afterlife. He would weigh both your good and bad deeds, and if the good outweighed the bad, you got to go to Heaven. But if the bad outweighed the good, then you would go to Hell. I wonder, Potter, how much your schoolboy bullying would weigh against your noble deeds as a member of the Order of the Phoenix? I suppose that they were small sins, but then again, you do realize that it was your fault, yours and Black's, that Severus became a Death Eater?"

"He became a Death Eater because he was a Dark Wizard with a black heart!" James shouted, his voice rising in fury to hide the twinge of guilt that he felt, because suddenly Rosier's voice sounded too much like his conscience.

Rosier shook his head. "It's true that Severus was interested in the Dark Arts, but he was resisting Malfoy's attempts to recruit him--subtly and tactfully to be sure, but he was still holding back. But after Black pulled some prank on him in fifth year--I didn't know until I saw it in the mirror that it was because Black sent him to Lupin's hiding place on the full moon--he went nearly insane with anger. All he cared about was getting revenge on Black--and on you. That was when he decided to join the Death Eaters, although we didn't take the Mark until a couple of years later."

"I had nothing to do with that prank!" James shouted. "I even saved his worthless life!"

"But you were glad that it came between Severus and Lupin, weren't you?" Rosier retorted. "You and Black conspired to keep Lupin away from Severus, telling yourselves that you were 'protecting' him from the evil Slytherin. Even before you found out about their romance, you could see that Lupin was drawn to Severus, that he didn't like the way you and Black bullied and taunted and hexed him. But you did it anyway. And poor little Lupin was so pathetically grateful to have your friendship that he didn't dare cross you. Not that I blame him, I suppose--if you had spilled the beans about his lycanthropy, he would instantly have become an outcast, probably even been expelled."

"I would never have done that to Moony!" James shouted in outrage. "And Snape is not the defenseless victim you make him out to be! Sure, we hexed him a few times, but he gave as good as he got! He hexed me every chance he could!"

"Yes," Rosier said, giving James a contemptuous look, "but he always faced you alone, and you lot always ganged up on him two or three against one. Pretty cowardly for someone who claims to be a brave and noble Gryffindor, don't you think?"

"He took us on alone because he didn't have any friends to help him!" James snarled, his face turning red with anger and shame. "If he's such a good friend of yours, why didn't you help him?"

Rosier shrugged. "Because we weren't very close back then, and because I'm not a noble Gryffindor. In Slytherin, the strong rule over the weak. We didn't help Snape because we were watching to see whether he was going to turn out to be strong or weak. Sometimes we laughed when you lot humiliated him, but we also respected that he never asked for help or cried for mercy. He earned Malfoy's respect by holding his own against you, even outnumbered, and that was one of the reasons that Lucius decided to recruit him into the Death Eaters. It was your constant dueling that allowed Lucius to witness firsthand how skilled Severus was with hexes and curses, and he became determined to win him over to the Dark Lord's side."

James felt sick with horror for a moment. Was it really his fault that Snape had become a Death Eater? Then he shook his head; no, maybe he had been out of line, but Snape was still responsible for his own actions. Being bullied was not justification for becoming a murderer. And despite Rosier's self-righteous words, it wasn't only Slytherins who were bullied. The Slytherins had done plenty of bullying themselves while James was at school, and as far he knew, their victims had not become Death Eaters.

"It's the state of your own soul that you ought to be worried about, not mine!" James told Rosier. "I think I know well enough how your bad deeds will weigh out!"

"I'm not afraid to meet whatever punishment or reward I will face in the next life," Rosier said quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing, fighting to keep the wizarding world pure, but now I'm not so sure."

"Not so sure?" James echoed incredulously.

Rosier ignored him, continuing, "That werewolf, Lupin, and that Mudblood girl my son is so infatuated with have proven to be better friends to him than my pureblood comrades. If my fate is to be cast into some sort of purgatory, then I deserve it, for leading my best friend into death, and for leaving my son alone and unprotected." He looked up, and James could see no self-pity or fear in his eyes, only a firm resolve and sense of determination. "But I will not leave this world until I know that my son will be safe."

Death, who had been watching silently up until now, placed her hand on James's arm and said, "We should go back now, James."

As they turned to leave, Rosier called out, "Oh, and Potter? Whatever bad blood there is between us, I wish no ill upon your son--if only because I want him to survive and destroy the Dark Lord, since it seems like that is the only way I will ever get revenge on him."

That was a typically selfish Slytherin motivation, James thought to himself as Death pulled him through the doorway in the wall back into his own waiting room. To think about someone only in terms of what they could do for you.

Death motioned with her hand, and the doorway disappeared seamlessly back into the wall again. "That won't happen again," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, James, but you're stuck here until you make the decision to move on."

"Why did it open up in the first place?" James asked curiously.

"Today is Halloween," Death sighed, "when the walls between the world of the living and the world of the dead are thinnest. I've been very busy down on Earth, chasing escaped dead souls, and I wasn't keeping an eye on things here. But as I said, it won't happen again, so don't think that you can escape on next Halloween--providing that you're still here then, which I hope you won't be."

"Halloween," James said, sounding startled. "I've lost track of time here."

"Well, I have a job to do," Death said briskly, then asked hopefully, "Unless you've decided to move on?"

James shook his head. "Not until Voldemort is dead and Harry is safe."

"I didn't think so," Death said, with a sigh of resignation. "Well, see you later, James."

"Wait!" James cried. "Why did I break through into Rosier's room? It was Harry that I was thinking about...Harry and Lily."

Death shrugged. "The barriers preventing you from returning to Earth are much stronger than the barriers between the different waiting rooms, for one thing. Or perhaps you and Evan were unconsciously drawn towards each other because you were both thinking about your sons. You're more alike than you realize, you know. You're both a couple of stubborn gits."

"I'm nothing like that Death Eater!" James protested indignantly, but Death had already vanished. He sighed, and sank down onto the couch. As much as he hated Evan Rosier, at least that unexpected visit had broken up the tedium of his routine. He wondered how long it would be before Harry defeated Voldemort, and James could finally move on and be at peace with Lily. He tried not to think about the other possibility, that Voldemort might kill Harry, and they would be going on into the afterlife together.

But as it turned out, James didn't have to wait much longer, relatively speaking. He anxiously watched the final battle between the Death Eaters and the Order play out on the Hogwarts campus at the end of Harry's sixth year. He watched Harry and his friends and the members of the Order battle the Death Eaters, and he watched Ariane Donner fall in combat, sacrificing herself to save her son--much as Lily had, James realized with a start. And then he saw something that startled him even more: he saw Evan Rosier's ghostly form appear behind a weeping Dylan Rosier. No one on the battlefield seemed to notice him except for the dying Ariane, who smiled and whispered, "Evan."

Evan smiled and held his hand out to Ariane's spirit, which was rising from her dead body. She took his hand and smiled back at him, then they both gazed down at their son, who had flung himself across his mother's body, sobbing hysterically. "I'm sorry, Dylan," Ariane said softly. "I wish I could remain to watch you grow up, but Severus and Remus will take care of you, and I know that they will love you as I would."

Evan bent down to caress Dylan's cheek, and the boy looked up in confusion for a moment, tears still running down his face, as if he had felt the caress but could not see the source of it. "I will always love you, my son," Evan whispered, with a tenderness that James had not believed him capable of. "You are the one truly good thing that has emerged out of all the evil I have committed during my life. Be safe and be happy, Dylan."

And then Death appeared out of nowhere, dressed in her usual tank top and jeans. "Finally ready to go, Evan?" she asked with a smile.

"Who are you?" Ariane started to ask, then she looked into Death's eyes and her face went pale, and she immediately sank down in a deep curtsy.

Evan dropped to one knee on the ground beside her. "I am ready to enter the next life," he said. "Which I assume is why I was finally able to leave the waiting room. But I beg of thee a boon, Lady Death."

"You do indeed have a silver tongue, Evan Rosier," Death said with a grin. "What is the boon you crave?"

"Let us stay to see the outcome of the battle," Evan said. "I believe it will be over soon enough. I beg of thee, let us stay until we know that our son will be safe or..." His voice faltered for a moment. "Or let us enter the next world together as a family. Though I pray it will not come to that."

"Very well," Death replied, looking around the battlefield, where friend and foe alike were falling. "There's certainly a lot of work here for me to do. I'll gather up the other souls first, then return for you two at the end of the battle. And you'll both come along without an argument this time. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Evan said, bowing his head.

"Agreed," whispered Ariane. "Thank you, Lady Death."

Death laughed merrily. "Oh, I'm no lady, or at least I don't act like one, as I'm sure my stuffy little brother Dream would say!" Then James watched as she flitted across the battlefield, like a butterfly moving from flower to flower, gathering up the souls of the dead.

Meanwhile, Evan flew across the battlefield with Ariane at his side, moving through the air as easily as a ghost, although that was not precisely what he was. He found the vampiric roses, which Voldemort had brought with him, and shouted, "I give you my first and last command as Lord of the Rosier family: slay the ones who killed my beloved! Kill Bellatrix and Voldemort!"

Bellatrix Lestrange managed to flee out of reach of the rose vines, but they ensnared Voldemort and began drinking his blood as Evan laughed maliciously. Maybe he had repented of the evil he had done, but there was still a little Death Eater left in him, it seemed. Not that James cared, in this instance; Voldemort deserved to suffer for what he had done. He certainly wouldn't mind if the roses killed Voldemort, but he knew that would not happen, since Harry was destined to kill the Dark Lord--or be killed by him.

He turned his attention back to his son, and watched him battle the giants with Ron and Hermione, then watched him chase after Voldemort alone--a brave but foolish move. He listened in shock and horror, as Voldemort revealed that he was Lily's real father and therefore Harry's grandfather; he had raped Lily's mother and then wiped the memory of it from her mind. And he also claimed that the Potters were actually the descendants of Godric Gryffindor, who had secretly had an affair with the wife of the head of the Potter clan.

"LIES!" James screamed at the television, but the sick feeling in his stomach told him that his heart, if not his mind, had accepted the Dark Lord's words as truth. He couldn't help but think that it all made sense now--why Voldemort had hesitated before killing Lily, how easily Godric's sword had come to Harry's hand in the Chamber of Secrets, even Petunia's hostility towards her sister. Had she somehow unconsciously sensed that Lily was not her real sister, or rather, only her half-sister? Was this why she had hated Lily all these years, not because she had feared and envied Lily's magical powers? With horror, James realized that this was why Lily--and Harry, too--were such powerful mages. Because their father and grandfather had been one of the most powerful wizards in the world, second only to Dumbledore. Voldemort's blood flowed through their veins.

He watched numbly as Harry defeated Voldemort--not through combat spells or with Godric's sword, but with the Occlumency that Snape had taught him. And he found the strength to defeat the Dark Lord by embracing the Slytherin part of his soul that Voldemort himself had bequeathed to him. Harry had won, and James was relieved, but he found that he could not summon up a feeling of triumph. Instead, he felt as if he were standing on thin ice that might give way beneath him at any time. Voldemort had thrown his world into chaos with those two brief revelations.

How ironic, James thought with bitter amusement. He did not really feel happy even though his son had defeated Voldemort and won the war, while the Death Eater Evan Rosier seemed to be at peace with himself. The malice that James had seen so often in his eyes while they had still been living enemies was gone, and he and Ariane were smiling sadly but fondly at their son as he wept in Snape's arms, mourning the death of his mother.

"Don't be sad for too long, my son," Ariane murmured. "I am content, for I am with your father now." Unnoticed by her son or the other living people on the battlefield, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Goodbye, Dylan."

"Goodbye, Dylan," Evan said. "And Severus...I know you can't hear me, but thank you for watching over my son, for loving him as if he were your own. You were a better friend to me than I was to you." Then he grinned mischievously, staring at James as if he could see him through the television. "I know you're watching this, James. I even thank you for siring the boy who defeated the Master who betrayed me."

James scowled and muttered, "I didn't do it for your sake, Rosier."

Evan clasped Ariane's hand tightly, and they nervously turned to face Death, who was waiting for them patiently. "I told Potter that I wasn't afraid to face whatever punishment or reward that awaited me in the afterlife. I fear it will be the former rather than the latter, but still...we made a bargain, and I will honor it, Lady Death."

"What will become of us?" Ariane whispered.

"It is forbidden for me to speak of it with those who have not yet passed on," Death replied. "The world that lies beyond this one is different for different people. You will discover what awaits you soon enough."

"At least tell us this much," Ariane begged. "Will we be together?"

"Yes," Death replied. "That much I can promise you. You will be together."

Evan and Ariane relaxed a little. "Then I can endure my fate, be it Heaven or Hell," Evan said. Evan looked back wistfully one last time at his son. "At least Dylan will be safe."

"Take my hand, Evan Rosier, Ariane Donner," Death said softly, and Evan, still holding Ariane's hand, placed his free hand in Death's. A doorway of golden light opened up in front of them, and Death said in a conversational tone, "You know, your friend Severus was a Death Eater, and yet he found redemption of a sort, and was granted a second chance."

"But Severus was still alive when he repented," Evan said.

Death laughed, "Ah, but Evan, death is not an ending, but only a new beginning!" And then she stepped through the doorway, and the three of them vanished into the light.

James turned off the television and lay down on the couch. There was no need to watch further; he knew that Harry was safe and would be all right in Padfoot's care. He wondered why he didn't feel happier. Sometime later--as usual, James wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed--Death appeared in the waiting room.

"Is that bastard Rosier really going to Heaven just because he's sorry now that he was a Death Eater?" James asked. He thought to himself that he ought to feel more of a sense of outrage, but he was still feeling a little numb with shock after finding out that Voldemort was his wife's father.

"I didn't say that he was going to Heaven," Death said mildly. "And if you were watching, then you know that I cannot tell you where he and Ariane have gone."

"But he will find redemption?" James demanded.

"It's possible," Death replied calmly. "That's up to him. And that is all I will say on the matter. Besides, why are you dwelling on Evan Rosier's fate? The war is over, and your son not only survived but is a hero! And he will be able to live with his godfather now. He has many people who will love him and care for him. Isn't it about time that you joined Lily, James?"

He had told Death all those years ago that he was only staying behind to make sure Harry would be safe. There was no reason for him to linger. He should say goodbye to his son, as Evan had, and move on. And yet...things still felt unresolved for him.

He shook his head and said, "I can't. Not just yet."

"Why not?" Death asked. "Harry is safe."

"The war is over," James said slowly, "but...something just doesn't feel right. Will Harry really be safe? Voldemort died before, but he came back..."

Death smiled, with a fierce and vindictive satisfaction. "You may rest assured that he received a one-way ticket this time, courtesy of yours truly, with a little help--okay, a lot of help--from Harry. He definitely won't be coming back."

James hadn't really thought so; he was just trying to come up with a justification for not moving on. "And Snape...he's still alive, and it seems like he'll be a big part of Moony's life--which means that he'll also be a part of Harry's life."

Death sighed and shook her head. "Do you really think that Snape is a danger to your son? After seeing everything that you saw today, and in all the years that you've been watching him? Or it is that you just can't let go of your childhood grudge against him?"

James evaded the question, continuing, "And all this business about Voldemort being Lily's father...what if he's left behind something in Harry, some sort of curse in his blood or something...?"

"Harry will be fine," Death said, impatiently and a little irritably.

"Can you really promise me that?" James asked. "You told me before that you couldn't see the future."

"I can't promise that no harm will ever befall Harry," Death said reluctantly. "I cannot foresee the future. I cannot make that promise for any human, Muggle or wizard. Life is full of uncertainties and surprises, James. That's what makes it so exciting."

"I just can't go yet, Death," James said helplessly.

"Lily is waiting," Death reminded him.

"I know," James said, hanging his head a little. "Tell her I'm sorry. I'll come to her eventually...just not yet."

Death sighed and smiled at him sadly. "Very well, James. Call me when you're ready." And she vanished.

James morosely watched the television for the next year. Sometimes it seemed to him as if his old friends had gone insane. Remus not only moved in with Snape, but adopted (sort of) two orphaned Slytherins; one was Dylan Rosier and the other was Theodore Nott, whose Death Eater parents had been killed during the final battle. Sirius married, of all people, the demonic Professor Blackmore who had terrorized them as students at Hogwarts! James had never really liked her, even after they both served in the Order of the Phoenix together; her family's Dark reputation had made him leery of her, and it didn't make him feel any better to learn that the rumors about her having demon blood were true and not just some story made up to scare gullible first-years. Besides, she had always seemed to favor Snape for some reason that James couldn't fathom.

It bothered James that Harry still seemed to be disappointed in him, all because of one small (though admittedly ill-considered) prank he had seen in the Pensieve. Merlin's Beard, from the boy's reaction, you would have thought he had committed murder! It broke his heart to see his son confide in Remus about his concerns and doubts--not just about James's actions as a student, but about how James would have reacted to Harry embracing his Slytherin side or the knowledge that Harry was a blood relative of Voldemort. Of course, neither Harry nor Remus were aware that this was anything more than a hypothetical question, since they didn't know that James was watching over them. And James felt a twinge of guilt, because it did indeed disturb him to know that his wife and son were related to his worst enemy. He knew that it shouldn't matter; they certainly hadn't chosen to become descendants of Voldemort. It was the Death Eaters who judged people by their bloodlines; James had always believed in judging people by their actions, which was why he had been friends with purebloods, half-bloods, Muggle-born wizards, and even a werewolf. But Voldemort was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and James couldn't help but wonder if centuries of Dark Magic use had poisoned the Slytherin bloodline. Was it possible that Harry could fall prey to the temptation to use Dark Magic someday? James didn't really believe that his son was capable of such a thing, but still...both Snape and Voldemort had been inside his head. What if they had tampered with his mind, or left behind some subtle, hidden trap that would only be sprung when conditions were right?

Or was he just creating excuses to continuing watching over Harry because he didn't want to leave until his son's faith in him was restored? But James had no idea how to bring that about; he couldn't communicate with Harry, and Remus and Sirius were not much help, either. Although they did try to reassure Harry that his father was a good person in spite of what he had seen in the Pensieve, their assurances sounded a little patronizing to James's ears. James had been immature and prejudiced, they said, but if he had lived, he would have matured into a better person. James felt a sudden wrench of pain in his heart, as well as a touch of resentment, as he realized that Remus and Sirius thought of him as a kid--a nice, well-meaning, but immature kid. After all, they were now nearly seventeen years older than he had been when he died. They had grown up and moved on with their lives, while James remained the same, trapped in limbo. He leaned in close to the television and saw his image faintly reflected in the glass of the screen--still youthful, almost boyish. He looked only a little older than his son did now, and James bowed his head and wept for all the years he had missed. He hadn't been able to teach his son Quidditch as he had planned, or be there to cheer him on in the stands. He hadn't been able to see Harry off on his first train ride to Hogwarts. He hadn't been able to gently tease Harry about his first crush on Cho Chang, or give him advice about dating, or comfort him through his first breakup. He was useless as a father; he could do nothing but sit here in this godforsaken waiting room and spy on the world of the living like a voyeur. He ought to just get it over with and call for Death to take him to Lily.

But he didn't. He remained, dispiritedly watching the television in the waiting room, as the days passed by and blurred into one another...

***

Chapters 3-5