The Revenant, Chapter 2

by Geri ([email protected])

My homepage: http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/index.html

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Snape/Lupin

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; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

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.
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Chapter 2: The Waiting Room

James found himself in a small room lit by fluorescent lights. There was a slightly shabby couch against one wall, and a coffee table in front of it, scattered with Muggle and wizarding magazines that were several months to a couple of years out of date. There was also a remote control on the coffee table, presumably for the television resting on a small stand on the opposite side of the room. James recognized the room, or at least the type of room, from his numerous trips to the Muggle world with Lily. The room was quite similar to ones he had seen in the wizarding world too, minus the television and Muggle magazines.

"You're telling me that Limbo is a doctor's waiting room?" James asked incredulously.

Death grinned mischievously and winked at him. "Well, it's appropriate, don't you think? Essentially, that's what Limbo is--a waiting room for those who can't decide whether to remain on Earth as a ghost or move on."

James looked around the empty room. "Am I the only one here? Surely there are others who aren't ready to move on..."

"Not as many as you'd think," Death replied. "Only wizards, for the most part, have the power to linger on after death. There are a few others here, but they all have their own waiting rooms. Call me when you're ready to make your decision, James. I have a busy schedule, so I might not be able to come right away, but never fear, I will hear your voice no matter where I am, and I'll come as soon as I am able." She smiled at him. "Don't keep that pretty wife of yours waiting too long!" A doorway opened out of thin air and Death stepped through it.

"Death!" James shouted. "Death, wait! You said I could watch over Harry--how am I supposed to do that from here?" But it was too late; the doorway vanished, and Death along with it. "Damn it," James muttered to himself, and flopped down on the couch in defeat. He idly flipped through a few of the magazines, but he wasn't interested in months-old news of the war in the wizarding world, and neither was he interested in Muggle politics or fashion tips. He tossed them aside, picked up the remote, and turned on the television.

To his surprise, he saw Peter Pettigrew running down a busy London street, with Sirius in hot pursuit. Several hours seemed to have passed since he had left Godric's Hollow with Death, although it had seemed like only minutes to James. There was a look of murderous rage on Sirius's face; he would have known, of course, that only one person could have given up the location of the Potters' hiding place to Voldemort. But if Peter was alive, and apparently unharmed, then that meant he had not been tortured by the Death Eaters after all...

Peter abruptly wheeled about to face Sirius and sobbed, "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" James knew Peter well enough to recognize crocodile tears when he saw them; Peter had often tried to cry and plead his way out of trouble at school, feigning tears and contrition when he was caught in some misdeed. He had done it well enough to have had his detention lessened by a softhearted teacher more than once, and James and Sirius had laughed and congratulated him on his acting skills. But James was not laughing now. Peter had been a much better actor than anyone suspected...

"You're dead, Pettigrew!" Sirius snarled, and reached for his wand.

Peter raised his own wand first, and a huge explosion tore a crater in the street and sent chunks of concrete, metal, and dirty water flying into the air (the explosion had blasted deep enough to crack open the sewer), along with several bodies, some of them screaming, others falling to the ground silently, no longer people but lumps of dead flesh. And a teenage girl dressed in black appeared to offer the confused spirits her hand, smiling at them kindly, although none of the living people seemed to notice her.

But James didn't care about Death, at least, not right now. His attention was focused on Peter. Under the cover of the smoke generated by the explosion, he sliced off one of his fingers with a knife, letting it fall onto the street, then turned into a rat and scuttled into the crater and disappeared into the open sewer pipe.

"Damn you, Peter!" James screamed at television. "You betrayed us! The Death Eaters didn't torture you, did they? You joined them willingly! And not only did you betray us to Voldemort, you're framing Sirius for your crimes!" And he knew, with a sickening sense of certainty, that everyone would believe that Sirius was the traitor, because they had told no one, not even Dumbledore and Remus, that James had made Peter his Secret-Keeper instead of Sirius.

"Surely Dumbledore will figure out the truth," James whispered desperately. "Surely he'll at least hear out what Sirius has to say. Surely Moony will know that Padfoot could never have done such a horrible thing."

But when Sirius was dragged off to Azkaban without even a trial, Dumbledore only looked sad and weary when he heard the news. And Remus looked angry, bitter, and despairing all at the same time; he clearly believed the worst of Sirius. Things had deteriorated between them ever since that incident in the Shrieking Shack, but James hadn't thought that things were so bad that Remus would believe Sirius capable of betrayal and murder. But then again, before James had gone into hiding, Sirius had dropped hints that Remus might be something less than trustworthy, so the distrust went both ways. James had very angrily and vocally expressed his disbelief that Remus could turn traitor, and Sirius had backed off and said that he had only meant that Remus was too trusting and might accidentally let something slip to the wrong person. James had known that he meant Snape, and while James agreed that the Slytherin was a slimy bastard, he knew that Remus had not had any contact with Snape since they graduated. He knew this from the perpetual sorrow in his friend's eyes, and from the way he refused any attempt by his friends to set him up with a date, either female or male. James knew that Moony still pined over Snape, even though he never spoke of it. He wouldn't be so sad if he were still seeing Snape, and besides, James knew that Remus wasn't capable of such betrayal. Of course, he had never thought that Peter would ever betray him either...

James couldn't take it anymore, and switched off the television. But then he quickly turned it back on, remembering that he was supposed to be watching over Harry. What would happen to him now that his godfather was in prison? James and Lily had never thought to designate an alternate guardian. He flipped randomly through the channels, then stopped when he saw Hagrid drive Sirius's motorcycle to Privet Drive.

"NO!" James shouted, as Dumbledore took Harry from Hagrid and left him on the Dursleys' doorstep. "You can't hand him over to those petty, spiteful people--they'll treat him like dirt and make his life miserable just because they hated Lily and me! Damn you, Albus, why else do you think we wrote in our will that Sirius should care for Harry instead of Petunia?" He screamed at Dumbledore, pounding on the screen of the television, but clearly Dumbledore could not see or hear him. Finally he gave up in despair and sank to his knees, weeping, as Petunia opened the door, picked up the baby, and frowned down at him.

Why on earth had he remained behind when he could do nothing to help Harry, James wondered despondently. He briefly considered giving up his chance of an afterlife to become a ghost, a sacrifice he would be willing to make if it meant that he could protect his son, but a ghost would not be able to raise and care for an infant. He almost called for Death to come and take him to Lily, but something inside him refused to give up. Even if he could do nothing but watch, he would watch over his son until he was safe or Death came for them both. Even if Harry was never aware of it, he would not be alone; he would always be watched over by someone who loved him.

Watching Sirius rot in Azkaban or Harry be abused, verbally and emotionally if not physically, by his aunt and uncle, was too draining for James to watch for long, and he would turn the television off when he could take no more. But there was nothing else to do in the waiting room but read old magazines, so eventually he would no longer be able to stand the boredom and would turn it back on again. He wasn't sure how much time passed in the waiting room; there was no clock on the wall, and no windows to tell him whether it was night or day outside. He couldn't tell by mealtimes either, because no food or water ever appeared in the room, and James never grew hungry or thirsty--not surprisingly, he supposed, since he was dead. The television was not much help, either: sometimes events played out in what seemed like real time, and sometimes they would jump forward by hours or days. He found that by flipping through the channels, he could also view the past, although the same channel rarely ever showed the same thing twice. Most times they showed the present, sometimes skipping forward a few days or weeks or months into the future (or maybe it was that time flowed faster in the limbo of the waiting room), and occasionally they would show him the past.

Maybe it was because he happened to be thinking about Remus, wondering what would become of him with his best friends dead or in prison or in hiding, that one day the television began playing scenes from their schoolboy days at Hogwarts, all focusing on Remus and Snape. And with those scenes singled out and played in sequence, James began to get an inkling of how their relationship had developed. He had never realized before that Snape was always lurking in the background, his black eyes focused on Remus. Of course James had known that Snape had followed them around a lot in school. He had assumed at the time that Snape's main targets were himself and Sirius, and that he had been waiting for an opportunity to hex them or get them in trouble. But it was obvious now, watching as a spectator, that it had always been Remus that Snape was watching, to an obsessive degree. When Snape's gaze shifted towards James or Sirius, it was usually with a look of jealousy because Remus was laughing at something they had said. James felt strangely chagrined to realize that he had never been the main focus in their long-standing rivalry and mutual hatred; in a way, he had almost been an afterthought, because it seemed that Snape hated him only because he had been jealous of James's friendship with Remus.

Well, that was not entirely true; likely he and Snape would still have loathed each other, their personalities and beliefs too different for friendship or even tolerance, but their feud would probably never have become so intense if it had not been for Remus. James was not quite sure why that should bother him so much. If Lily had been here, she probably would have made some tart and sarcastic remark like, "You can't stand not being the center of the universe, James Potter."

James smiled wistfully. She had always known how to cut his ego down to size; Merlin, he missed her so much! Of course, all he had to do was call out to Death, and he could be with her right now...

James stubbornly shook his head, clinging to his resolve to watch over Harry. He turned his attention back to the television screen again, wondering why it was showing him these scenes of Snape and Remus. Did they relate to Harry somehow? Perhaps Snape might become a threat to him, or Remus would find a way to befriend him. Or was it all completely random, with no set pattern or purpose?

He continued to watch, with some discomfort, the blossoming friendship that developed between Snape and Remus while they worked together on Professor Blackmore's project, which eventually led to their first kiss. But even the knowledge that Snape had apparently been in love with Remus did not make James feel more kindly disposed towards him. He knew how this would all turn out in the end, of course, that Snape would turn against Moony after Sirius played his stupid prank. Of course, that was partly Padfoot's fault, but if Snape had really loved Remus, he should have had more faith in him, right? He should have believed Remus when he said that he'd had nothing to do with the prank.

And there was a darkness in Snape's eyes that James didn't like. It seemed to him that they were filled with neediness and desperation and anger rather than affection or tenderness. It was more as if he wanted to possess Remus rather than love him, as if what he felt was closer to need than to love, and that he hated himself for needing Remus.

And James didn't understand why Remus loved Snape. It was true that there were a few moments where Snape actually behaved like a decent human being when he and Remus were alone, James grudgingly conceded. But there were plenty of people out there who were much nicer--not to mention much better-looking--than Snape. Why hadn't he fallen in love with one of them, with someone who would be nice to him all the time, and not just when his snobby Slytherin friends weren't around?

Maybe it was just that Remus had always been a softie, and he felt sorry for Snape because no one else liked him. Yes, that was probably it, James thought, feeling a little disgusted. Remus was the sort where if he had been given a litter of puppies to choose from, he would always have picked the runt of the litter that no one else wanted, rather than the cutest or friendliest puppy. But still, if his relationship with Snape had been based mainly on pity, it seemed strange that he would still be pining over him years later. James finally gave up trying to figure it out and turned off the television.

The next time he turned it back on, it showed the present, more or less. He learned from watching Dumbledore that it was Snape who had been his spy among the Death Eaters, and what shocked him even more was that it had been Snape who had sent Dumbledore the news that Voldemort had found the Potters' hiding place--of course it had come too late, which James found suspiciously convenient, but Snape did not seem pleased by the news of James's and Lily's deaths, only bitter and resigned. James wasn't quite sure what to think. Up until his death, he had been certain that Snape was a Death Eater, but then again, Dumbledore wasn't a fool. He wouldn't have blindly put his trust in Snape without having some kind of assurance that Snape would not betray him. Testing his theory that he could control what the television showed him, he willed it to show him the moment that Snape had become Dumbledore's spy.

The scene shifted, showing a slightly younger Snape, about eighteen years old, standing in the Headmaster's office and pulling up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, which must have been newly-branded on his arm, judging by the redness and swelling of the skin surrounding it. James listened while Snape described the Death Eaters' induction ceremony, and how a Muggle-born wizard had been offered up as a blood sacrifice during it. He claimed not to have known until then the true nature of the Death Eaters' plans, and he seemed sincerely horrified and remorseful about the sacrifice's death. Dumbledore clearly believed him, and offered Snape redemption as a spy, to make up for his previous errors, but James was uncertain. The television could show him the past, but it did not allow him to enter the thoughts of the people on the screen; there was no way to tell whether Snape was lying or not.

James could not judge the passage of time in the waiting room, but on the television screen, days passed by, then weeks, then months, then years. Sirius remained in Azkaban, maintaining a fragile hold on his sanity only by spending most of his time in dog form. Peter Pettigrew lived in disguise as a pet in the Weasley household. Remus became a virtual hermit, hiding away in his cottage in the woods, just barely earning enough to survive on intermittent jobs, most of them sent his way by Dumbledore. He was unable to hold down a regular job because either he would be fired for getting sick so often and missing too much work, or his more perceptive employers would eventually realize that his sick days coincided with the full moon and would cast him out, saying, "We don't need your kind here!"

What hurt most, though, was to see Harry growing up in the Dursley household, treated like a servant and constantly berated by his aunt and uncle, taunted and bullied by his cousin Dudley. It was hard for James to believe that these horrible people could actually be related to his kind and compassionate Lily. But it heartened James slightly to see that Harry's spirit was never broken. He could have given in to despair, or become mean and bitter in response to the Dursleys' abuse, but he essentially remained a kindhearted boy, and even defied the Dursleys occasionally, sometimes with verbal retorts, and other times with unintentional mischief caused by his growing magical powers. James laughed along with Harry when he made the glass panel in the Reptile House disappear and Dudley fell into the snake's enclosure. Maybe, James thought hopefully, his decision to remain and watch over Harry had not been a futile exercise, after all. Maybe Harry could somehow sense James watching over him, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it, and perhaps that was why the Dursleys had not been able to break his spirit. Whether or not this was true or simply wishful thinking, James always whispered, "I love you, Harry," each time he turned on the television and saw his son on the screen, and when he saw Harry climb into bed at night, weary from all the chores he had done that day, he would say, "Goodnight, son. Sleep well." Sometimes he would kiss Harry goodnight by pressing his lips against the image of his son's cheek on the glass screen. He probably looked foolish, but what did it matter? There was no one here to see.

And finally, despite the Dursleys' best attempts, Harry was sent to Hogwarts, and James cried out in triumph and joy. Finally, Harry would be among his own kind, and take his rightful place in the wizarding world! He heartily approved of Harry's choice of friends--the Weasleys were good folk, and little Hermione reminded him a great deal of Lily when she had been that age. Not surprisingly, he quickly made an enemy of Lucius Malfoy's brat, but James approved of that, too. Of course it could be dangerous to incur the Malfoys' wrath, but he was glad that Harry had not been fooled by them as so many others had.

He was outraged, though, to see how Snape, who was now working at Hogwarts as a teacher, treated Harry. It was clear that he was taking out all his hatred of James on the boy, going out of his way to humiliate Harry and find fault with him.

"You slimy, petty bastard," James snarled at the screen, although he knew that Snape couldn't hear him. "To pick on a child who's done you no harm just because you hate his father? I thought that even you might have a little pity for an orphan, but I should have known better! I can't imagine what Remus ever saw in you!"

Snape, of course, did not acknowledge his tirade, but continued watching Harry with the same obsessive hatred and loathing he'd had for James. And so James was startled by what happened at the Quidditch match. At first, like Hermione and Ron, he thought that Snape was the one hexing Harry, causing the broom to attempt to buck him off. But when he looked at Snape more closely, he could see that Snape's lips were forming the syllables of a counter-curse, not an active curse or hex. Could it be that Snape was actually trying to protect Harry, not hurt him?

He could not make himself believe it, not until Harry defeated the possessed Quirrell, and Dumbledore explained that Snape had been working to protect Harry in order to discharge the debt he owed to James for saving his life. James wasn't sure who was more stunned--himself or Harry. He had never imagined that Snape might feel indebted to him. He had never imagined that Snape had enough honor to acknowledge a life-debt, much less repay it. Could it be that Snape wasn't as much of a bastard as he seemed?

Snape still picked on Harry in his second year, but James was less concerned about him this time, since he seemed to restrain his hostility to detention and verbal insults. The real threat, James realized, was Voldemort, still disembodied but no less dangerous. James's heart had nearly stopped (or would have, if he had not already been dead) when Harry had confronted Voldemort/Quirrell at the end of his first year, and James spent another "year" (although again, he could not really tell how quickly time was passing) in the waiting room sick with fear as the creature in the Chamber of Secrets whispered to Harry, insinuating itself into his thoughts, and Voldemort deceived him with Tom Riddle's diary. But again, Harry triumphed, slaying the Basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's own sword, and destroying the diary with the Basilisk's tooth. James wept with relief then, his heart bursting with pride and love for his son. He began to believe that Harry really was the hero of the Prophecy, and that he would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord, maybe sooner than they had expected.

In Harry's third year, Snape seemed to move from a grudging truce into open warfare, because the true object of his obsession--Remus--returned to Hogwarts. James learned from watching Dumbledore through the television that the only reason he had been able to hire Remus was because no one else wanted the position. When one DADA teacher was killed and another driven mad in the space of two years, people began to say that the position was jinxed, which scared off most potential applicants.

The rage in Snape's black eyes whenever he looked at Harry or Remus bordered on madness, and James began to fear for his friend's and his son's lives. But although Snape's vindictiveness reached new heights (taking out his spite on Harry's friends and reducing Hermione to tears by taking off points for "being an insufferable know-it-all"), he still managed to keep his rage in check, at least enough not to kill anyone. And he reluctantly brewed the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus on Dumbledore's orders.

James was shocked to learn that Snape was the one who had actually invented the potion, and he learned of it only because Remus revealed it during a confrontation with Snape. Perhaps he might have learned about it on his own if he had been watching Snape more closely during the years before Harry entered Hogwarts, but he had been concentrating more on watching his old friends and Harry, and the television seemed to be guided by his wishes, to a certain extent. That was the day that Remus renewed his romance with Snape, breaking down the Potions Master's resistance by literally fainting into his arms. James watched, feeling a little queasy as they desperately kissed and groped at each other, and he finally switched off the television when it reached the point where they were tearing off each other's clothes in Snape's quarters.

Snape seemed happier than James had ever seen him, and he was grudgingly impressed when Snape remained with Remus during the full moon, although he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the sight of Remus wagging his tail while Snape scratched him behind the ears. However, his newfound happiness did not seem to lessen his hatred for Harry--if anything, Snape seemed to hate him more, as was made obvious by the way he berated Harry after his illicit trip to Hogsmeade. Or rather--it was James that Snape still hated venomously, despite the fact that he had now been dead for twelve years.

When Harry threw the fact that James had saved his life in Snape's face, Snape turned pale and snarled, "There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

"You bloody liar!" James screamed, pounding his fists uselessly on the television screen. How dare he tell such a blatant lie to Harry! He had saved Snape because he had wanted to protect Moony from being punished for injuring or killing a human, and also because even a slimy git like Snape didn't deserve to be murdered--although he was not so sure of that last part now. He hated Snape for the hint of doubt that he saw in Harry's eyes, for trying to make Harry believe that his father was was a selfish, petty coward.

Things went from bad to worse as Sirius and Peter finally revealed themselves to Remus and to Harry and his friends. Snape never saw Peter, only Sirius, and he accused Remus of betraying him. Because of Snape, Sirius remained a fugitive and Harry was denied the chance to live with a loving godfather instead of the Dursleys. James was furious, and he could not forgive Snape, even though Remus eventually did.

The following school year, Snape continued his petty vendetta against Harry, although he was distracted somewhat by a new student, the son of his deceased Death Eater friend, Evan Rosier. The boy was as handsome and charming as his father, which worried James. He knew that evil could lurk behind a charming smile and the outward semblance of respectability--Lucius Malfoy was proof of that. But Dylan Rosier was still a child and only a minor annoyance right now, although he might well prove to be as dangerous as his father in the future. The true danger to Harry was Voldemort and the false Mad-Eye Moody. The television revealed to James early on that Moody was really Barty Crouch Junior, and although James desperately strove to communicate that information to Dumbledore and Harry, hoping that he could somehow reach them by sheer force of will, his efforts were as useless as always. But Harry miraculously escaped Voldemort and survived yet again, although Cedric Diggory died. James wept when he saw the ghostly image of himself emerge from Voldemort's wand, although it was not really him and only a shadow of a memory. Still, he was glad that he had been able to aid Harry in some small way, even if only indirectly. He wept in sorrow for the slain Cedric and his family, and also in guilt, because a small part of him was relieved that it was Cedric who had died and not Harry.

Things grew even worse in Harry's fifth year. The Death Eaters broke out of prison and Malfoy's lackeys had control of the Ministry. Snape began working as a spy again, and James watched over him closely. So far he had not yet betrayed Dumbledore, but James still didn't trust him. He did see a few tender moments between Snape and Remus, but that was not enough to make James forgive him or trust him any better. Watching those moments made him uneasy, and he usually quickly changed the channel when they came on. He told himself that it was because he didn't want to watch Snape having sex with his best friend, but it was the emotional intimacy as much as the physical that unnerved him. Secretly, he didn't want to watch, because he didn't want to have to change his opinion of Snape. And soon Snape made it all too easy to hate him unreservedly, when James had to watch him give Occlumency lessons to Harry. Oh, certainly he went through the motions of teaching, but he berated and belittled Harry to such an extent that he made it almost impossible for Harry to learn effectively. It made him suspect that Snape was deliberately trying to fail in his lessons in order to leave Harry vulnerable to Voldemort, although there was no real evidence to support that theory. Maybe he was just an obnoxious bastard. Still, if he was a loyal member of the Order, one would think that he could set his ego and his animosity aside long enough to teach Harry to defend himself.

James was almost as unnerved as Harry was by the glimpse he saw of Snape's childhood during the Occlumency lessons. Against his will, he felt a twinge of pity when he saw Snape's father cast what seemed to be a Cruciatus Curse on a five or six-year-old Snape. But then he told himself that a rotten childhood was still no excuse for becoming a Death Eater, or for treating Harry the way he did. After all, Sirius and Remus had had a tough time growing up, too, and they had not turned out the way Snape had.

And then Snape did something that James could never forgive: he turned Harry against James. He had not done it intentionally, but that didn't make James hate him any less. When Snape was called away in the middle of an Occlumency lesson to deal with an emergency, Harry, like the curious boy he was, stole a look at the memories in Snape's Pensieve, and he saw the old prank that James and Sirius had played on Snape, when they had hexed and pantsed him beside the lake on a fine summer day. James laughed at first as he recalled that day, but his laughter quickly died away when he saw the look of horror and betrayal on his son's face.

"It was just a joke," James whispered. "It was supposed to be funny--it was hilarious at the time."

{Maybe it wasn't so hilarious for Snape,} his conscience suggested.

James angrily clenched his fists. Okay, maybe that had been a nasty prank, but so what? It was only a childish prank, it wasn't as if he'd committed murder or something, and Snape had certainly hexed James often enough. "Why don't you show him all the times that you hexed me, huh?" James demanded of Snape's Pensieve, which of course remained silent.

James also noticed for the first time that Remus looked sick with fear and disgust, although he doggedly pretended to ignore what was going on. At one point, he glanced towards James as if he wanted to tell him to stop, then turned back to his book, his eyes filled with fear, as if afraid that his friend might turn on him next.

"How could you think that, Moony?" James whispered, stricken by the look in his friend's eyes. "How could you ever think that we would turn on you? We would never treat you that way." He also saw Lily come up and chew him out for attacking Snape. He remembered that well. It had taken a long time for him to win her respect and affection after that.

Harry was obviously troubled by what he had seen, so troubled that he went to the risk of breaking into Umbridge's office to take the Floo and talk to Sirius and Remus--and to Professor Blackmore, who had recently come out of hiding after being assumed dead for years. It made him wonder about the kinds of allies Dumbledore was recruiting--a former Death Eater who had already betrayed one master, and a woman with demon blood. What made him so sure that they wouldn't turn against the Order in the end?

It broke James's heart to hear Harry confide in Sirius and Remus, to hear that his son thought that he was arrogant, an idiot, and a jerk. They did their best to reassure him, but James found those reassurances slightly insulting. They were both ashamed of that prank now, and told Harry that his father had been an idiot at the time, but that he had grown out of it.

"I know it was a bit childish," James said sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the television. "But dammit, it was just a prank! It wasn't a big deal. Has anyone forgotten that Snape willingly joined the Death Eaters, even if he supposedly had a change of heart later? Which one of us is the bad guy here?"

Blackmore also gave him some backhanded praise, telling Harry that his father had been a good man for the most part, but that he had been callow and cruel at times, because he had been prejudiced. Well, her actual words were "he saw things in black and white," but he knew what she meant, and so did Harry.

"Well, thanks a lot," James said sarcastically.

Harry was somewhat reassured, but James knew that Harry's view of him would never be the same again. Whenever Harry looked at the photos he had of James, he gazed at them with a slightly troubled look in his eyes. Harry would never again look at those photos with that expression of pure adoration and hero worship. And maybe it was unrealistic to want him to. James knew that all human beings, even the best of them, had flaws, and that Harry would not have worshipped him so blindly if James had lived to raise him. They would have loved each other, but occasionally quarreled, as fathers and sons do. But James couldn't be there to work through the quarrels and disagreements. He couldn't be there to reassure Harry or tell his side of the story. It hurt so much to see Harry so disappointed in him, and whether reasonable or not, James thought to himself that he would never, ever forgive Snape for ruining his image in Harry's eyes.

Even when Snape saved Sirius's life by risking his own, James still couldn't bring himself to forgive Snape, although Harry softened towards him slightly. Harry's relationship with Snape was still far from cordial, and awkward at best, but he seemed to be making an effort to get along better with the Potions Master, and that only made James resent Snape even more. It was as if Snape was turning first Remus and then Harry against him. It disturbed him to know that Harry felt a little sorry for Snape--or at least the younger version of Snape that he had seen in the Pensieve--even though he still disliked his teacher. It made him uneasy that Harry was obviously trying to understand Snape better by asking Sirius questions about Snape and his family. It made James feel guilty and ashamed, and then resentful that everyone was making such a big deal out of a few childhood pranks.

James was shocked when Dylan Rosier was inducted into the Death Eaters against his will. It was an odd move on Voldemort's part, since James suspected that he could have recruited Evan's son willingly if he had taken the time to persuade the boy by more subtle means, perhaps by playing on the hero worship that Dylan obviously felt for his dead father. James felt a little pity for the boy, although it was difficult to feel too much sympathy for Snape's protege, a Slytherin already trained in the Dark Arts despite his youth, especially when he idolized a Death Eater father who had murdered innocent people. He also resented the fact that Snape was patient and understanding when teaching Dylan Occlumency, while he treated Harry so harshly that he had driven him away from the lessons.

"Now you see what your father's friends are really like," James said grimly to the television, when it showed him an image of the Dark Mark being burned into a screaming Dylan Rosier's arm. But he was too worried about the implications of the incident to have much time to spare either sympathizing with or gloating over Dylan's fate. The forced induction was a sign that Voldemort was growing impatient, which meant that his attacks on Harry would like increase in frequency and severity.

James brooded over the course of the summer as he watched Moony fawn over Snape, and Harry wrestle with his conflicted feelings. To his disgust, Harry's friend Hermione seemed to have taken a liking to Snape; perhaps the girl wasn't as sensible as he had thought she was. After school started, he fumed and worried as Snape continued to pick on Harry in class, and the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban. And it turned out that what Voldemort had wanted from Dylan Rosier was the secret treasure of the Rosier family, some sort of demonic, blood-drinking roses. James shuddered as he thought of the numerous uses that Voldemort might put the roses to, none of them good.

There were a few happy moments, though. He was proud to see Harry appointed captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team; he had always loved watching Harry's matches in the mirror, and he looked forward to the coming season. But at the same time, it made him sad to see how much Harry had grown over the years. He was nearly a man now; James had missed out on all the things that he and Lily had planned: reading Harry stories and tucking him into bed; teaching him magic and buying his first wand; teaching him to fly and practicing Quidditch with him. He had missed out on Harry's entire childhood.

James turned off the television and found himself restlessly pacing back and forth across the waiting room, like a wild beast locked in a cage. He was so damned tired of sitting here doing nothing, cut off from his loved ones. He could watch Harry and Remus and Sirius, but he could not help them, or even communicate with them. And he missed Lily terribly; he couldn't even watch her on the television, except for scenes from their past. He had tried many times to see her in the present, but all his attempts had failed. The television would show him nearly any person or place in the past or present of the wizarding world, but it seemed that he could not see into whatever afterlife Lily had passed on to.

"Damn it, Death!" James shouted. "I've been cooped up in this room for the last..." He had to pause for a moment to count. "...fifteen years! I can't take it anymore! I need to get out, if only for a little while! Let me see my son in person at least once!" He suddenly felt like he would go mad with confinement and started pounding on the walls. And then suddenly the wall gave way, a section of it swinging open like a secret door, and he fell through it...

...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...

Chapter 3 and 4

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