HP: Fairborn Adventures

March 29th, 1978

Marlene landed in front of the tall iron gates of Potter Manor with a soft snap. She almost immediately lost her balance and stumbled to the ground, falling hard on her knees. Grimacing in pain, she attempted to pull herself back up, yet her limbs refused to obey any commands.

One single thought echoed through her skull, over and over again, robbing her of her senses. Fear settled in her breast, forcing the air right out of her lungs.

'Harry might be fighting Voldemort right now.'

It was a level of dread she'd never known before, tearing her up from inside with sharp claws. Somehow, it felt much worse than when Harry had faced Voldemort and his Death Eaters outside Bones Manor; much worse than when he had charged ahead into Myrtle's Bathroom to trap Tom Riddle within the Chamber of Secrets.

"Harry is all alone, possibly fighting Voldemort..." Marlene kept muttering to herself.

It was too much. She struggled to breathe. Dizziness invaded her mind. Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms until she felt something warm trickle down her fingers. And yet the pain somehow helped. Perhaps the pain was something she could focus on, something to distract her.

'There's nothing left for me if Harry is taken away.' Marlene watched the slim piece of wood that had fallen into the dirt next to her. 'I can't let him take Harry away from me.'

She desperately wanted to reach out, snatch up her wand and use it to apparate right back to where she came from. However, the tiniest voice in the back of her head kept repeating that this was the last thing Harry wanted right now.

'He can't have someone else to worry about.'

'But perhaps I can still feel him.' She tried to take a few calming breaths and focus on the faint throb of Harry's magic emitted by the ring on her finger. Yet her own heart was pounding so frantically that everything else was blended out. She could feel that he was alive. His magic was implying it loud and clear, yet there was nothing more she could gather from the band of gold.

Feeling utterly defeated, Marlene curled herself together, locking her arms behind her knees while shaking with weak sobs.

'All I can do is wait.'

She had no idea how much time had passed while she sat there, freezing in the cold air of what had promised to be an ordinary night in late March.

A faint snap behind Marlene made her whirl around, almost snapping her own neck. Her fiancé's eyes sparkled in the darkness as he strode toward her.

"Harry!" Marlene leaped to her feet and hurled herself into his arms, meeting him with such force that he was tackled a few steps backwards.

She curled her fingers into his robes, clinging onto him like a lifeline and burying her face in the crook of his neck despite the horrid stench that sat upon him. At some point, hot, salty tears started running down her cheeks and drenched his shirt.

"I'm okay, love," Harry whispered, though she felt his ragged breath and the way he trembled while holding her: "I'm okay, really."

"What did you do, Harry?" She gently untangled herself, fingers still fisted in his hair, forcing him to look down at her: "What did he want?"

"He didn't want to fight me..." Harry swallowed heavily. "He only came to talk."

"To talk?" Marlene echoed incredulously, her mouth agape. "What did you talk about?"

"How far I've come already-", his green orbs froze over with revulsion: and "-and his future plans for me and anyone I love."

'Especially me then.'

"Don't let him get to you like that, Harry!" She cupped his jaw: "That's exactly what he wants."

"Well, he didn't even consider me a threat tonight!" Harry hissed and turned his head away, staring angrily into the distance: "And why should he? He is much more powerful than the version of him I've gotten to know. He acts more rational, thinks more clearly, and is less easy to anger." Harry shook his head with a cold chuckle: "I always thought it was ridiculous that people were afraid to say his mere name, but I slowly start understanding now... At this point in time, Voldemort is unrivaled in power."

'If he's so much more powerful now, then something must have gone wrong during his rebirth?' Marlene frowned: 'Perhaps splitting your soul into not seven but eight total pieces broke a fundamental rule of magic? Or a final boundary even Lord Voldemort wasn't resistant to...'

"Look at me, Harry," she demanded fiercely. "You've made leaps in terms of power over the last two years. The gap between you and Voldemort is diminishing with each day. Soon, he will have to take you seriously. He's already suffering the consequences of not doing so. We proved as much tonight."

"And still, it's just a little game to him!" Harry dismissed her: "Like he doesn't even care how many followers I take from him!"

"Because he doesn't know who you are, Harry! He hasn't even witnessed half of what you are capable of," Marlene replied: "Voldemort doesn't know you're the one hunting down his anchors to immortality; he doesn't know you're the one killing his followers on raids. Continue using that to your advantage instead of falling for his petty mind games!"

He took a few, deep calming breaths.

"Maybe you're right," Harry deflated and his eyes softened again. He caught a glimpse of her hands, brows twisting in worry: "You're hurt."

"It's nothing, I will heal in no time." Marlene tried to wipe the blood away.

"What happened?" Harry gently seized her hands and ran the tip of his wand over the small tears that dwelled crimson.

"I- I was so worried about you." Marlene swallowed as the pain faded, and new tissue crept over the small wounds: "I didn't know what to do. The pain- it helped..."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, gently wiping away a tear that threatened to trickle down her cheek with his thumb: "It's just- I can't meet him with you in danger. I can't fight knowing you're there. I can't even breathe knowing you're there."

"I understand. I don't like it; but I understand." She leaned into his embrace once more, burying her face in his chest: "I'm so sorry about Remus."

"There was little we could do with over two dozen werewolves surrounding him," Harry sighed: "Besides, as cruel as it might sound, this war is like a big game of chess; one doesn't win without some sacrifices. Remus' life in exchange for Greyback and his entire pack is a rather favorable trade for us."

"Do you really mean that?" She pried herself out of his arms, frowning at his words: "Wasn't he your friend, Harry?"

"He was my father's friend first," Harry corrected her. A little bit of ice slipped into his voice: "And in the future I experienced, he was never there for his best friend's orphaned son when it actually mattered." His lips quivered in a cold chuckle: "Unless to use it as an excuse to run away from his responsibilities, like a wife and newborn child..."

'That's more than just the anger and hurt speaking,' Marlene realized as she studied his grim expression: 'But it's better not to mention it right now.' She squeezed his hand in support:"We should probably go inside, though you must know that we can't tell the Potters about anything yet."

"You're right." Harry sighed deeply: "James deserves to know the truth but I could deal without Dumbledore finding out about everything via them." He looked down at his robes and grimaced: "We should probably clean up a bit, otherwise whatever story we come up with won't be convincing." Harry flicked his wand twice, vanishing the majority of blood, ash, and sweat that stung on their clothes and skin: "Much better already."

"Still a poor substitute for a hot shower," Marlene muttered, wincing in disgust as she plugged specks of bone and fur out of her ponytail: "This won't do, Harry."

"Fine," Harry huffed: "We will have to sneak back into the manor then."

"Sneaking into the house of my fiancé's family," Marlene gasped in fake indignation: "What kind of witch do you think I am, Mr. Peverell?"

"You've proven tonight what kind of witch you are, love." Harry slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her closer, resting his head on top of hers: "You're the one to spend a lifetime with."

March 30th, 1978

The air smelled of burned wood and smoke on a cloudy morning. Albus hiked up a dirt road running parallel to a small stream that ran down into the nearby village. Deep imprints drew along the muddy path, most of them seemed rather fresh, but he still noticed the occasional footprints that must have been a residual of the last night.

'Whatever has passed along here must have been barefoot and still, it was very fast,' Albus frowned, studying the weirdly shaped imprints: 'It digs deeper into the mud where the toes should be located. Perhaps claws then?'

Busy noises and loud shouts from different people echoed down the slope once he approached its top. A groove of apple trees stood to the right. A few dozen people hurried over the yard between a burned-down cottage, an almost completely destroyed barn, and a large stack of firewood.

He recognized the cottage, despite its horrific state. It had been roughly eight years ago that he was called here by a very concerned father, who would've given him the world to see his son still be accepted at the school.

'This is where Remus Lupin lives.'

Red-roped Aurors mixed with the blue-robed forensics team from Saint Mungo's. Albus even spotted the dark gray robes of an Unspeakable, close to the very person that had reached out to him.

"Albus, thanks for coming!" Alastor barked as he spotted him. The blonde Auror, who Albus now recognized as Matthew McKinnon, nodded in greeting.

"I take it there's been another attack?" Grief clawed at the headmaster's guts.

"Look around! It all points in that direction," Moody grumbled: "Usually they attack entire villages but this time, for some reason, they seemed to have singled out this particular house. I take it you're aware who used to live here?"

"Used to?" Albus sighed deeply: "Are there no survivors?"

"You might want to take a look at this." The battle-hardened Auror grimaced and led him over to a small white tent.

"Sir, Professor." The red-roped witch guarding it edged aside to grant them entrance.

"We found them like this in front of the burning cottage last night." Moody lifted a large blanket from the ground, revealing what lay underneath. "It's not a pretty sight."

'Good Merlin.' Albus's stomach dropped.

The last time he'd seen horrors such as this, was during the final days of the war with Gellert. Two of the corpses were completely unrecognizable. Nothing but a bloody pile of broken bones, torn limbs, and horribly disformed torsos with large chunks of flesh missing. Still, it was the third corpse that almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Poor lad," Moody commented next to him: "No one deserves such a fate..."

Remus Lupin's head had been completely severed from his body. Not by a clean cutting curse, but by brutal force as it seemed.

"The forensic team reported that the injuries leading to their deaths weren't inflected by magic." Moody shook his head: "Someone, or better, something caused this to them without a wand. I know you're thinking the same thing I do..."

"I saw imprints in the mud leading up the hill, they didn't look quite human." Albus frowned: "But last night wasn't a full moon, it couldn't have been a pack of Werewolves."

"We're not sure who or what it has been yet, but we know there were many of them." Moody gestured back outside: "Our team secured over two dozen tracks in the surrounding grass. They definitely attacked as a group. I was hoping you might have an idea, so I'm also going to show you this..."

Moody gestured to the towering stack of firewood. Thick shafts of wood had been yanked out, littering the ground around it. Deep scratch marks were spread out over the surface area.

"We found large pulps of blood and bone fragments around this spot," Moody explained: "The forensics team assumes that at least fifteen of the attackers lost their lives right here. Undoubtedly someone had taken position up on the stack and defended themselves with extremely lethal means." Moody pointed at the ground.

"How very curious..." Albus kneeled and studied the tall blades of grass beneath the firewood. The edges still had a silvery touch and were unnaturally sharp. "I take it this is what you've called me for then. It's a brilliant piece of transfiguration; the fact that its effects are still traceable hours later points to a very powerful witch or wizard. They transfigured the blades of grass into blades of steel, likely to prevent the many attackers from getting too close to their position." He let his eyes roam over the occasional patch of crimson that covered the grass: "And by the looks of it, it worked very well for them..."

"You've taught the Lupin boy and his father at Hogwarts," Moody said: "Was either of them gifted enough in transfigurations to accomplish something like this?"

"No, I can't say so," Albus shook his head, "both were very diligent students, but they lack the magic it requires to cast such a piece."

"It couldn't have been them then..." Moody grumbled: "Jupiter-", he called for the dark-robed Unspeakable, "-did you find anything else?"

A tall, middle-aged wizard stopped his conversation with one of the forensic witches and joined them: "Morning, Headmaster. And no, Captain, I had no major breakthroughs in my investigation either. There are however a few things that caught my attention."

"Such as?" Moody barked.

"Many of the attackers fell victim to powerful, highly destructive spells during the invasion, yet their bodies have either been collected or magically vanished. Also, the grass in the yard has not been scorched by the same fire that burned down the cottage." The Unspeakable's eyes lit up: "These flames used here were cursed."

"Fiendfyre?" Albus suggested, his mind spinning with theories already.

"I assume the same. A shame really, because it makes it almost impossible to isolate the magical signatures of the caster and identify lingering traces of any other spells that have been used." The Unspeakable sighed. "For decades, Fiendfyre hasn't been used in Britain and all of the sudden there are seven confirmed cases in the last two years alone."

"Seven?" Moody growled: "I wasn't aware of that many."

"The first was during the attack on the Bones Manor, then last summer during the attack on the Evans muggle family." The Unspeakable counted them one by one on his fingers: "We investigated three more occasions, all during some of the raids that have taken place, at Ottery St. Catchpole for example. The cursed flames had been cast during the massacre at the Malfoy wedding and then finally once more last night."

"Do you have an idea whether we're dealing with one or two individuals?" Albus asked.

"I can't be certain," the man shook his head, "by the quantity of the magic and spells that have been cast, one would assume that there might have been multiple defenders. However, the sheer potency of the magic doesn't make a single caster unlikely either, casting and controlling Fiendfyre is quite a rare accomplishment after all."

'But I know of someone who's capable of it.'

"Let me know once you find out anything else, Jupiter," Alastor growled.

"Will do." The Unspeakable nodded and headed off.

"So what do you think, Albus?" The Auror turned back to him

'Can I trust him with my suspicion?' Albus took a few seconds, pondering over the situation. 'I'd usually prefer to solve this one on my own, but I think I'll need the help.'

"Would you mind giving me and the Captain a quick minute, Auror McKinnon?" Albus addressed the younger wizard.

"Uh, Sir?" The man frowned.

"You heard the Professor, lad," Alastor barked: "Make yourself useful somewhere else." He waited until Matthew McKinnon was out of ear's reach before barking with laughter: "Well, now I'm very interested in what you have to say. Spit it out already, Albus."

Albus gave his wand a small flick and erected a privacy ward. He considered his next words carefully. "There's been seven occasions when Fiendfyre has been used in the last two years, Alastor, and I know only one person, who has a very strong motive to be present during almost all of these occasions, except for the wedding at the Malfoys'."

"I hate it when you talk in riddles!" The Auror's eyes narrowed before they darted over to his subordinate: "The Peverell lad then? I know he was at the Bones Manor last year. For some reason, we've all been given orders from very high up not to question him about anything. What about the other occasions?"

"From the moment he arrived at Hogwarts, Harry Peverell has been very close friends with Lily Evans and Remus Lupin," Albus shared: "The boy causes me more headaches than I can count and there are very few people he cares about, but I don't doubt he would come to the rescue of either of them."

"Well, his timing hasn't been good so far, has it?" Alastor barked: "The Evans girl lost both her parents and if Peverell was here last night then he failed to rescue the Lupin lad as well."

"Or he came just in time for what he actually intended to do," Albus suggested with a deep frown: "As you know, there have been two occasions last term when students of mine managed to sneak out of the Castle. However, when I checked the Castle's wards, they detected four students leaving and only two returning."

"Has it crossed your brilliant mind that the other two might have simply not been idiots and just survived their cowardly attacks?" Alastor snorted: "I know exactly what you are trying to hint at, Albus... You think the Peverell lad and the little McKinnon are the mysterious avengers and kill Death Eaters in their free time."

"That is indeed my theory," Albus admitted.

"So that's why you have your crooked nose so deep in Peverell's business and even asked me for the memory of the Malfoy wedding." Alastor grinned: "Because guess what: The Dark Lord is equally as interested in Peverell."

'Merely another reason to be concerned about him.'

"But surely you realize that it is indeed a possibility?" Albus asked.

The Auror seemed to consider the matter. "The Peverell lad knows how to kill, I knew that when I saw the kid duel Lucius Malfoy two years ago. But his girlfriend-"

"-fiancé, actually," Albus corrected.

"Yeah, whatever," Alastor growled: "His fiancé never seemed like someone who could hurt a fly. Always looked like the picture-perfect pureblood princess anytime she visited her older brothers in the academy. I suppose that must have changed at some point if the report I read on what she did to Rosier's offspring is true."

"Ms. Rosier could have very well died during the attack. Both of them have a violent and vicious streak that is truly worrisome," Albus said: "They already deal in absolutes only. Both care very little about anything aside from one another and I shudder to even think about what either might do if they lose each other."

"Let's assume you are correct in your speculations. So how did you plan on dealing with them?" Alastor asked. "And I know you never share such valuable information without a bigger motive, so what do you want me to do about this?"

"I'm keeping a very close eye on them at Hogwarts." Albus said "I'm not naïve, Alastor. I know that some of my students either joined the Death Eaters already or plan on doing so the moment they finish their NEWTs. It pains me that some of them are participating in raids already and I'm doing everything in my power to keep them within the walls. Still, I'd rather see them in a cell in Azkaban for the crimes they committed than die at the hands of Harry Peverell or Marlene McKinnon. The violence and killing among the future generations of witches and wizards has to stop now."

"Very nice..." Moody slowly started clapping his hands before rolling his eyes: "Nice speech there, old friend, almost brought a tear to my eye. Now can you please get to the point and tell me what you'd like me to do?"

"We need to be certain that it is indeed Peverell before moving to stop him," Albus explained: "For that, we either catch him in the act or prove he was present at some of the crime scenes."

"And how do we prove his presence?" Alastor barked: "In case you've forgotten, we never manage to identify the caster of the spells."

"A funny coincidence when according to Peverell, his family magic conceals his magical signature, don't you agree?" Albus chortled: "But still, I'm sure that the Unspeakables have found a way to identify him for the duration of his internship. They won't just let anyone into their Department."

The Aurors glimpsed over to the dark-robed man who has started securing samples of the silvery blades of grass: "Getting that pretentious, secretive bunch to reveal anything is hopeless, Albus. But I'll try anyway and do you this last favor."

"You have my gratitude." The Headmaster nodded in relief.

"I'm still not fully convinced by this scheme of yours," Moody grunted: "And I stand by what I said during the emergency Wizengamot meeting. If it's really Peverell and his princess, then I'll shake both their hands and see that they're well cared for in Azkaban." He gestured to the white tent they had visited earlier: "One glimpse at those corpses tells me that they've done all of us a huge favor by what they did or did not do. I don't know why that brilliant mind of yours is so firmly sitting on ignoring that."

April 4th, 1978

The old grandfather clock's rhythmic ticking was the only sound disrupting the utter silence. The household of Potter Manor was spread out all around the large living room, mourning together and yet alone. Harry was sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire; Marlene had curled herself together like a cat and nestled in his lab, her head leaning against his chest.

'It has truly hit them hard,' Harry mused, brushing through the blonde's golden hair. He was admittedly surprised about the lack of empathy he was feeling.

'But perhaps you just get used to people being taken away from you at one point?'

'Or the lines between acquaintances and people I can't live without have finally been drawn.' Marlene's blue eyes met his, her fingers curled into his robes: 'Some losses are bearable; others aren't.'

He glanced past the veil of golden hair at his parents. Lily and James were holding each other in a tight embrace on the couch. Even after four days had passed since they received the devastating news, the girl's eyes were still red from crying.

Harry's father didn't fare much different. The death of his friend had hit James particularly hard. Hazel brown eyes that usually sparkled with delight had first become dull. Yet, ever since yesterday, that too was replaced by a fierce determination and an overall grim expression: James Potter was pissed.

'In truth, Remus and I had never been particularly close ever since my return. Befriending him was just part of joining the Marauders,' Harry realized the more he thought about it: 'Being around him was always different from spending time with James, Lily, and even Sirius. He wasn't the one I was most eager to see either.'

Sirius, who had been spending the entire Easter holidays with the Potters, was sitting next to his great-aunt. The young man had a unique ability to raise the spirits in any room he entered, be it with his pranks and laughter, or his playful cockiness. Yet, for the last days, no teasing or jokes had left his lips, no pranks had played and no trademark, dog-like laughter had echoed through Potter Manor.

'Sure, Remus didn't deserve to die, but if I had to sacrifice a Marauder, aside from Peter, who will die anyway, then it would've been him every single time." Harry let out a small sigh: 'I suppose there's some cruel irony to it. The Marauder who originally survived the longest was the first to lose his life.'

"Charlus is back!" Dorea had suddenly noticed the slightest disturbance in the dance of the flames and immediately pointed to the fireplace, jumping up from her seat.

'Good. Let's see what the Ministry makes of my interference.'

His grandfather appeared in the roaring green flames, brushing ash off the expensive purple Wizengamot robes.

"What did they say?!" James immediately questioned.

Charlus sighed: "We've been briefed on the investigation by the Auror Department, but they've not really gotten far."

"Have they at least figured out who attacked Remus?" Sirius asked.

"No, they still aren't sure," Charlus deflated: "Just by the injuries and circumstances of death, everything leads to a pack of werewolves attacking their cottage. But it wasn't a full moon, so technically it can't have happened that way unless that specialist from the Department of Mysteries was right."

'A priceless gift from the Dark Lord.'

"What did the specialist say?" Harry asked.

"He says that an early transformation could possibly be provoked via magical means," Charlus shared.

"I- I don't think it's a potion. I've been reading up on Lycanthropy be- because I wanted to help Remus." Lily inhaled sharply: "A potion could be used to manipulate the symptoms during the transformation, but to trigger it so early, there has to be some curse involved. Probably some derivative of the curse that infected the wound."

'Very old magic; abstract magic,' Harry mused after exchanging a small glance with Marlene: 'It's the best kind, but it can be horribly twisted to serve the wrong purpose.'

"Well, whatever they used, it didn't make them invincible." Charlus grimaced: "The forensics team from Saint Mungo's estimated that dozens of the attackers died that night."

"But who killed them?" Dorea frowned: "Remus? His father?"

"Alastor Moody, who is in charge of the investigation, doesn't think so." Charlus shook his head. "The magic that was used is inherently dark and certainly not something Remus might have been capable of using at his age, nor his father."

"When can we have the body of him and his parents to bury them together?" James demanded to know: "Remus deserved this last honor."

"I'm sorry, James, but the forensics team is not done with their study." Charlus sighed: "And even once they're finished, our claim to the bodies is rather poor. Remus has family on his mother's side, muggles who still have to be informed of the passing of their relatives."

"But they didn't even know he and his dad are wizards!" Sirius replied heatedly "His mom was forbidden from telling them when she married!"

"I know. Which is only going to further complicate the process, because someone will have to explain to them why neither of their bodies is even recognizable." Charlus grimaced: "The Statute of Secrecy is at risk if we just let the muggles bury three horribly deformed corpses. We will simply have to-"

"Oh, fuck the Statute!" James lost himself, slamming his hand down at the table.

"James-" Dorea frowned at her son.

"No, mom, I'm so fucking tired of all it!" James ranted: "One of my best friends was murdered, they didn't catch whoever is responsible and now they won't even let us bury him with dignity!"

"I understand your anger, son. I really do," Charlus tried to calm him: "I too have lost people I cared greatly about in the war, but I-"

"I want access to the basement!" James suddenly interrupted his father: "Now!"

Charlus stared at his son in shock. Dorea slowly rose from her chair to walk over to them.

"James, you know that the basement is off limit-"

"I want fucking access to the basement, mom, and you can either give it to me or I'm going to bloody blast my way through whatever charm you've put on those doors."

"What's in the basement?" Marlene whispered in his ear.

"I honestly have no idea," Harry replied, his curiosity piqued.

"James-" Charlus spoke up seriously: "The books and scripts I keep down there are dangerous-"

'It's knowledge.' Harry frowned at the implication, fingers dug into Marlene's thighs. 'The Potters are descendants from the Peverells. This might be where some of my ancestors' most valuable possessions ended up.'

"Which is why now is the right time to finally make good use of them just as you did when grandpa was killed by Grindelwald," James retorted angrily: "Harry and Marlene both know how to defend themselves. I bet either of them would wipe the floor with a few werewolves or any of those cowards in silver masks. I also need to learn to defend myself. I'm your only son and I'm of age, dad!" James reminded him slowly: "It is my right to learn it."

'He wants to fight.' A coldness curled up within his chest. 'But I can't give them the future they deserve if he fights on the front line.'

"This is not your war, James," Harry tried to support his grandparents in persuading James. "You don't have to-"

"It's just as much my war as it is yours, Harry!" James snapped at him. It was the first time Harry had seen his father actually lose his temper: "You certainly didn't return to Britain just when the war started heating up to play quidditch and provoke DADA professors. We all know you and Marlene always sneak off to train somewhere and prepare yourself! Why should you be allowed to fight after we're done with our NEWTs and I'm not?!"

'Because only very few can match me. And because you're a bigger target than you could ever imagine...' Harry bit back his retort, thinking about a way to de-escalate the situation.

"I'm with you, James," Sirius spoke up with determination: "They've taken Lily's parents, they almost took Marlene's entire family and now they've taken Remus. We can't allow them to continue like this!"

James shot his friend a grateful nod before turning to his parents one more time: "Sirius and I are going down in the basement now. Perhaps it will take us hours, or even days, but your wards won't keep us out there forever, dad!"