A/n: There's a long quote towards the end. I'm sorry, but the concept it's about really is important for that section. It's probably a little tl;dr, but please try to slog through it.
Lions: 5, Christians: 0
Part of Remus very much enjoyed James's discomfiture and squirming as they discussed the vampire bill Lucius Malfoy had just put forward. The other part of him wanted to bash the man's head in. While he understood the conceptual differences between “werewolf” (a mindless biting machine once a month) and “vampire” (a mindful biting machine any time of the month), James still seemed unable to accept the idea that vampires were just as capable of free choice as werewolves.
And it seemed Lily was getting just as annoyed with James as he was; she glowered at him while playing with a sleeping Harry's hand as James continued to hem and haw over how he felt about the bill. It would slowly ease up the restrictions placed on vampires, eventually putting them on par with werewolves and wizards in terms of de jure freedoms.
But what was law and what was real wouldn't—hadn't—matched up immediately in terms of what he as a werewolf was and wasn't allowed to do, even if things had gotten better by leaps and bounds. It was still limiting, not to mention dangerous, to be a lycanthrope. De facto freedom would take a very long time, Remus mused. He hoped that it would be better for any werewolves of Harry's generation (heaven forbid there were any!). _______________
Watching the rest of the Order bicker over a bill that he was both powerless and somewhat reluctant to prevent the passage of, Dumbledore ran over the memories he had recently viewed. It had been eerie to see his own death and eerier still to see that it was Severus who had murdered him. Based on other images—Severus throwing the girl at Ibex and portykeying them away, for example—Dumbledore suspected that there was more to the story than was immediately evident. He supposed he should probably figure out what the story was before he gave in to James's clamoring to see the memories. He wouldn't react well to what he would perceive as betrayal and the justification of his loathing of Severus. ________Lily rolled her eyes at Sirius and Remus.
“I still don't understand,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow at her from where he sat in an arm chair.
Sirius loomed over Remus's shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest and glaring. “I'm just surprised he didn't kill you, his mother or not.”
She sighed and watched James play with their son for a moment. Harry ran from his father the tickle monster, giggling and tripping over his own feet as James chased him around the sitting room. She looked back at them. “I ran into him, tried to talk to him, and walked away—alive, as you noted—with memories.” Lily shuddered. “If those were the less gruesome memories, I don't want to think about what the rest of them are like.”
“Describe?” asked Remus, looking like he was on the fence about something.
“Torture, death, loss, abuse, neglect,” she said succinctly. “That about sums it up.”
“How extensive was it?” Remus asked slowly. “I'm reluctant to view them, since James said they made you cry, but I do want to know what's in them.” He said, sounding curious.
She mulled that over. “He lost everyone, just about. You,” she pointed at Sirius, “in his fifth year, I think? And you,” she looked at Remus, “after Snape helped he and a friend escape You Know Who's custody. Loss and the torture he suffered at Death Eater hands were the worst of the memories. What my sister did to him,” her mouth twisted in a sour, angry expression, “pales next to having his skin cut away.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, “What?”
She nodded. “Bellatrix's handy work. She sliced him up and pried squares of skin off with a knife. I imagine he's got some horrendous scarring from that.”
Remus looked slightly green. “I bet.”
Sirius looked at Remus's nausea and Lily's simmering anger with disinterested calm. “I don't see what the big deal is—look at him now,” he said.
“People don't become evil at the drop of a hat, Sirius,” Remus pointed out. “There has to be a tipping point.”
“And no child deserves what he got!” Lily added indignantly, looking murderous.
Sirius grunted in response and Remus glared at him, “Ibex wasn't Ibex until well after you and I were gone, Sirius. The boy in those memories is your godson and a child, not some dark lord in the making.”
Sirius looked unconvinced. _______________________________________________________Severus was humiliated; he had been reduced to a messenger boy and a cog—a lowly minion and nothing more. Currently he was on his way to an audience with Ibex, winding through the maze of corridors and staircases. Reaching the dark lord's private study, he knocked on the door and slipped into the room when he was granted permission to enter. Ibex was watching him expectantly as he made his way across the study and gestured for him to sit when he reached the desk. Silence reigned once he sat down, the dark lord waiting for him to speak first, as he usually did.
“I bear a request from the Headmaster,” he said neutrally.
“Go on.” Ibex leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in a gesture that uncannily resembled one of Dumbledore's own.
“He and a few, select others would like to meet you on neutral ground to discuss things,” Severus said stolidly, staring at the bridge of Ibex's black framed glasses.
Ibex hummed and pushed his glasses up his nose, forcing Severus to meet his eyes. “Such as?”
“That vampire bill you're pushing. The memories you gave Mrs. Potter...” Severus trailed off, waving a hand suggestively.
“Indeed. Did he have suggestions as the location?” Ibex asked.
“No,” Severus said tersely.
“Then I shall provide some. A private cafe in Diagon Alley or some place in the Muggle world.” He shrugged, “Doesn't matter to me.”
“Am I to take that as your agreement to a meeting?” Severus was certain it was, but it never hurt to make sure he knew exactly what was being agreed to.
A nod from Ibex. “Yes. Please ask them to schedule it the afternoon. I'm afraid I am not a morning person unless I've been up all night.”
Severus recognized the dismissal for what it was and stood, departing for Dumbledore's office.
________________“He agreed?” Sirius looked skeptical, arching a dark eyebrow.
“What did you not get about 'yes?'” asked Snape angrily. “Are monosyllabic words beyond your understanding, Black?” he sneered.
Sirius opened his mouth to retort when Remus shot him a look and he promptly shut his mouth. Dumbledore noted this with mild amusement before turning back to his potions teacher. “Any specific demands?”
“That you schedule it for the afternoon,” Snape said shortly. “He suggested a muggle location or a private cafe in Diagon. I imagine he'll want to make tea out of it or possibly dinner. Ibex tends to have his private meetings over such things.”
Sirius looked indignant. “I'll not have bloody tea with him!”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “As I understand it, he is most amicable over food of some sort. It would be logical and more conducive to finding out what he wants by encouraging him to relax.”
“As you understand it?” James said, every word scorching with disdain and malicious amusement. “What, never been invited for tea and crumpets?”
Snape gritted his teeth. “I have always been kept at arm's length, due to his history with me and, more likely, to my allegiances.”
“Quite probably,” Dumbledore agreed before turning to Lily, cutting off further exchanges between the two men. “I would prefer to have this meeting in the muggle world as I do not think he will break the statute of secrecy. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Anderson's in London,” Lily said after a moment of thought. “The owner is rather discreet and we can take precautions to ensure it remains private there. He's quite used to eccentric customers, too.”
“A date and time?” asked Remus.
“Thursday, July first at three?” Dumbledore put forth. It was after term let out and far enough away to reschedule it if need be.
Several nods, though Snape looked sour at the thought of dealing with the dark lord on his first day of summer.
“Misdirection is possible because of the power of suggestion. It is a psychological fact that the first impulse of people is to believe. Doubting is usually secondary. And the power of suggestion wields a tremendous influence on our lives and opinions.” The Art of Honest Deception, by Vincent C. Gaddis
The day of the meeting arrived before they knew it, and Ibex was already there when they arrived a few minutes early. He eyed them over his glass of water, sitting at the table in a secluded but brightly lit corner of the cafe, well away from the rest of the patrons.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore and Snape as they approached.
There were a variety of reactions: slight smiles and nods, as well as distrustful glares and uncertain or blank expressions as they settled around the table, bunching together at one end of the booth as they tried to keep their distance. Internally, Dumbledore sighed as Sirius glared at Ibex and Lily gazed at him with timid sorrow.
Ibex looked amused. “I generally don't bite,” he commented. “That looks uncomfortable—do feel free to spread out a bit.”
None of them budged for a moment before Snape gave up and bit the bullet. He got up from his seat at the edge of the booth and settled a good foot away from his lord.
“Good man,” Ibex chuckled softly. “Taking one for the team.”
Snape retained his carefully blank expression but nodded, reaching for a glass of water from the bunch of them at the center of the table.
Ibex watched them calmly, waiting for a long moment for them to ask a question. When they remained silent, he picked up his menu and perused it. They all awkwardly followed suit and for a while the only sound was the soft slap of plastic covered menu pages being turned and the click of metal page corners. Ibex put his menu down and sipped his water again, studying the London skyline visible over the top of the booth. One by one, the others followed suit and after a while a curvy brunette waitress appeared to take their orders. She looked wary of the tension in the air and disappeared after the first opportunity. Ibex wordlessly met Dumbledore's gaze and then looked again at the skyline.
Remus coughed and Ibex looked back down, meeting his eyes. “May I ask you a question?”
“I was under the impression that this was part of our purpose of this meeting,” Ibex replied, giving him a look that left him feeling exposed. “Fire away.”
“Albus has suggested that each of us had a place in your life before...returning?” he asked, searching for the word.
“Yes,” came the even reply.
“What was I to you? What were the rest of us?” Remus asked after a moment of hesitation.
Ibex looked at him and tilted his head. “A number of things. I assume the rest of you will want to know something similar?”
There were several hesitant noises of agreement.
“Mmm, thought so,” he said. Ibex reached into a pocket and smiled when hands sought wands. Four glass phials were produced and he passed them to the recipients. Sirius, Remus, Snape, and Dumbledore all studied them for a moment before tucking them away.
“Please make sure you watch them,” Ibex said, examining the lemon floating in his drink. “I think they'll answer all the questions you want to ask me.”
“And if they don't?” challenged Sirius.
“Talk to the others and view each set of memories. Then, if you still haven't found an answer, you can ask me at that point.” Ibex smiled toothily, “But I won't guarantee I'll tell.”
Lily tried to hide her hurt, “Do your father and I get one?”
Ibex blinked. “I don't have any memories of my parents. Or rather, the ones I do have are second hand, so no.”
“Second hand?” Remus prompted curiously.
Ibex nodded “Correct.” He paused, "Well, there was screaming, but I don't think that counts."
Remus and the others waited for him to go on, slightly anxious, but he remained silent, sipping his water instead.
Conversation stalled, despite Lily and Remus's heroic attempts at resuscitating it. Dumbledore remained quiet as well, fiddling with his napkin pensively. Eventually, Lily and Remus gave up and they shifted in uncomfortable silence until the waitress clattered towards them, bearing bowls and plates of food.
Ibex gave her a warm smile as she deposited his pasta in front of him, “Thank you.”
She gave him a plastic smile and left as quickly as she could, while Sirius stared at him.
“What?” asked Ibex. “You must always be polite to the people who handle your food. It's a cardinal rule of civilized life,” he said lightly.
Sirius blinked and frowned slightly at him before digging into his food.
Half way through the meal, Dumbledore seemed to hit on a conversation topic. “Would you mind telling us about your teachers?” he asked, sounding grandfatherly.
Ibex looked faintly amused and with a shrug he said, “Why not? Most of them were unremarkable, but McGonagall was excellent, as was Flitwick.” He smiled at Remus, “And you, Mr. Lupin, were definitely the best defense teacher I ever had. Snape,” he turned to look at the man in question with mild amusement, “was what he was. An excellent potioneer, but disinterested in teaching even at the best of times. “He seemed far more interested in making me miserable, actually. I think part of it was because I had my mother's eyes—I was a reminder of what could have been, had he not screwed things up royally his fifth year.” When both Lily and Snape looked up sharply, he smiled. “I shall leave it there. The other part was because I looked like my father and he assumed I was the same strutting jerk he was in school. It wasn't true of course, but that's what he chose to believe." He shrugged.
Snape looked haughtily at Ibex but remained silent. Ibex smiled, a vicious tinge to his expression. He tilted his head very slightly at Snape who suddenly looked much less haughty and tugged at his right shirt sleeve. Ibex looked back to see Dumbledore watching him avidly and his expression returned to polite kindness. “Does that answer your question?”
Dumbledore shook his head, looking at him over his spectacles. “Remus wasn't your only defense teacher?”
Ibex mirrored the mannerism. “Not by a long shot. I attended six years and had six different teachers. Three Death Eaters, a fraud, an evil Ministry sycophant, and Lupin. Lupin and one of the Death Eaters were excellent, effective teachers and the others...were not,” he finished.
“I can't imagine the Headmaster allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” Lily said, looking skeptical.
“He knew about one,” Ibex said, looking over at Snape for a moment. “The other was possessed by Voldemort and had—ironically—been the Muggle Studies teacher before applying for the position. I suppose he acquired the spirit of Voldemort the summer before I started, so there wasn't too much reason to pay attention to Quirelle's increased oddity, perhaps. The other was masquerading as Mad Eye.”
The others looked incredulously at each other.
“Mad Eye?” Remus asked flatly.
“Oh yes,” Ibex nodded with a cruel smile. “Got weirder as he got older, I expect. Quite embarrassing for the old fellow when it came to light he had been held hostage in his own trunk. He's got some very distinct mannerisms and was therefore fairly easy to imitate. As long as you get the paranoia, the peg leg, and the eye, everything else is explainable.”
“And the fraud?” Snape asked as the others contemplated Mad Eye's stint in a trunk.
“Gilderoy Lockhart. About all he's good at is memory charms, if that tells you anything. He lost his memory that year at least, so I never had to see him again,” Ibex looked smugly satisfied.
Ibex fell silent again and waited for someone to give into curiosity, looking at them expectantly.
After a long stretch of silence, James took the bait and asked, “How did he loose his memory?”
A smile. “The Chamber of Secrets was opened that year–”
“–It exists?” Remus cut across him.
Ibex nodded, looking unperturbed, “Indeed it does. It's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. One of the sinks has a serpent etched on the faucet, speak to it and it'll let you into the chamber. I don't recommend you investigate—it's disgustingly slimy down there and you won't even find the snake.”
“That's just a fairy tale,” Sirius said tartly.
“If only,” Ibex laughed. “That was my second year. There was an incident that made it apparent I speak parseltongue, so everyone thought I opened the Chamber. It was Voldemort again through an unwilling cat's paw. The cat's paw—she was just a little girl—was going to be sacrificed by the memory of Voldemort so he could regain his body. Lockhart was supposed save her and a friend and I figured out where the Chamber was when he couldn't, and we had to go rescue her. He tried to kill us, more or less, and the charm backfired, leaving him sans memory. I went on to try to rescue the girl, and I very nearly died doing it." Ibex rolled up his right sleeve, revealing an old, jagged scar. “I'm very thankful for Fawks, I must say,” he commented, running a finger over the raised skin. “If not for him, I'd have died at twelve.”
“I'm not sure that would have been a bad thing,” Sirius told him, haughty, superior, and cruel.
Ibex's expression chilled and the air seemed to drop several degrees. His voice was soft, but crackled with promise like ice sheets beneath the snow, “I was a child. I would have thought someone growing up in Grimmauld would be perhaps more sympathetic but apparently not. I am, I suppose, what you fear you would have become if you had been a Slytherin? I was never shaped by anything so petty as my school house, I assure you. “Green and red, silver and gold—those were reminders of better times, of quidditch games and classes, not the world that made me.” He looked bitter, staring at the tabletop. “Never that.” Ibex looked up at Sirius, ice in his eyes. “I don't ask or even desire for you to sympathize with me, but the child whom your godson would have become had things gone the way they did the first time. And more than that, I know you—well, perhaps not you, but the others, wish to understand more about me. You, in my time line, were the first of many people I fought for.”
Sirius's expression stiffened but he clearly didn't know how to respond.
Ibex smiled at him, looking cheerful now. With another smile he went back to his pasta and waited for the next question. James and Dumbledore remained silent, wishing not to give into Ibex's power ploy while Snape simply looked resigned. Sirius glared at the upholstery to Ibex's immediate right, while Lily and Remus seemed to be considering something and they would periodically murmur something to each other.
After a while longer, Remus spoke. “It doesn't sound like you had a good run of teachers,” he said, fiddling with a spoon as he talked.
Ibex looked up from the drink menu he had been reading as he ate. He swallowed his food. “Not for defense, no. But I did have good teachers in other areas, so I knew what a good one was and wasn't.I categorized you up there with Flitwick and McGonagall, you know,” he smiled, looking far away. “You were adored by an entire class of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students after your very first day. Anybody who played a prank on Peeves was all right in our book.”
Remus looked both flattered and amused. “What exactly did I do?”
“You caught him stuffing gum into a keyhole while you were taking us to the teacher's lounge and you made the gum shoot up his nose.” When Remus looked confused, he added, “There was a boggart there you were going to use for a lesson.”
Dumbledore chuckled, “Third year?”
“Correct,” Ibex nodded.
“Harry?” Lily asked hopefully.
Ibex blinked at her and remained silent for a moment. “Please don't call me that. 'Harry' is your little boy. It might be my name, but don't confuse me with the child. 'Ibex' will do, Mrs. Potter.”
She looked sadly at him, “As you wish. You didn't go all seven years?”
“No,” he said, focusing on spinning noodles around his fork. “The war exploded the summer after my sixth year. I was hunting horcruxes and dodging Death Eaters instead of studying for my NEWTs. My teachers were dead or in the fight, Hogwarts had been destroyed, and there was no Ministry to administer them.”
A soft little, “Oh,” was all Lily could say.
He smiled at her reassuringly, “There wasn't anything that could be done about it, really. When I left, Hogwarts was up again and rebuilding her library. The students were returning and we numbered around a thousand.”
She didn't seem very reassured but smiled anyway. For the rest of the meal, Ibex regaled them with amusing bit of his school years, deftly rerouting conversation away from the point of the questions they asked. After paying, Ibex disappeared with a cheerful smile and a wave, leaving the six of them to grapple with the non-answers they had been given and stare at the mysterious phials of shimmering memories.
"Preconceived notions are the locks on the door to wisdom"--Merry Browne
Sirius wasn't entirely sure what to do with what he had been told. Perhaps Ibex was right and he was being cruel. His godson could have been an abused and used child. Only Ibex's intervention had prevented that and as hard as it was to acknowledge that Ibex was human, surely part of why he had done it was because of his own painful past. Sirius stared at the ceiling above his bed and wondered. Whatever the answer was, he wouldn't give Ibex the satisfaction of being right.
Of of all words of tongue and pen,The saddest are, "It might have been,"More sad are these we daily see:"It is, but hadn't ought to be."- Francis Brett Hart (or John Greeneleafe Whitter, "Maud Muller")
Dumbledore stood up after landing in a memory. Two middle aged people, a man and a woman, sat at a table in a bustling diner near a pair of double doors. From the spelling and the accent, he guessed somewhere in the American West. The sun lit the pale sand and rocks outside the restaurant, bouncing through wide windows and lighting the interior of the otherwise dark room. Dishes clattered and the sound of spraying water mingled from behind the counter with the low murmur of talk and the occasional bark of laughter from someone on the other side of the room. Mariachi music and the low singing of the cook could be heard when the doors to the kitchen opened and a young waitress slipped out with tray of chips and salsa.
The two at the table, one Dumbledore suspected was Harry and his friend, were still silent, staring at each other. Then the woman sighed loudly and dropped her head against the wood siding of the wall. “You win,” she grumbled.
He grinned at her, “When have I ever lost a staring contest to you, Hermione?”
“Well,” she said with a smile, “There was that one time in Baghdad...”
“I got sand in my eye, ok?” he replied indignantly. “It hurt!”
“Right,” Hermione said skeptically, one eye brow arched elegantly.
The man rolled his eyes at her playfully, “All right, all right. When do you think our food will come? It's been forty minutes.”
“And you're hungry, I know,” she rolled her eyes. “Anyone who knew you might think you never got past puberty with the way you eat.”
Harry laughed, “I can't help that I can eat however I like and you—”
“—Watch it there, mister!” Hermione replied with mock seriousness. She waggled a finger at him. “You're treading on thin ice!”
He grinned impudently, “Right. Because you can make me sleep on the couch.”
“I'll kick you out of our hotel room all together, that's what I'll do! I'll give the bugs a feast,” she smiled wickedly.
Harry's eyes widened with fear, “The bugs? No, not the bugs! Anything but the bugs! Please, Hermione, I promise I'll never make jokes like that again!” He looked like she had offered him a choice between dementors and inferi.
She stared at him for a moment before she burst out laughing. He joined in and an embarrassed waitress scuttled over to them with two plates of food. One was an enormous burrito and the other was a simple salad. After apologizing profusely for taking so long, the waitress disappeared through the double doors and the two began to eat.
After fixing her salad, Hermione stopped to gape at the huge scoops of salsa and sour cream Harry was dropping on his burrito.
“Maybe you should just pour the salsa?” she asked dubiously as he picked up his fork and knife. “It might be more efficient.”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully as he sawed through the tortilla. “I'm good.”
She shook her head at him and settled into her food.
The memory greyed out for a moment and sharpened again. They were exiting the diner and there was a commotion in the parking lot. A young man yelled a pair of black haired middle aged women, standing amongst people who were probably family.
“You know what? I know why you're doing this! You're afraid grandpa will give them more in his will because they were caring for him and grandma! Never mind you're leaving Tricia and Rich homeless! You're going to make him blind at this rate; both of you know exactly what the stress will do to his eyes!” The boy glared at the women, his expression furious.
“Rich was looking at porn!” one of the black haired women said, as if it was the worst crime in the world. “Porn! Under our father's roof no less!”
The boy sneered as the rest of the family shifted and murmured. “So that's grounds to leave two people—who both needed a place to stay and were providing free care for your parents—completely homeless. Never mind they might well get more out of the will than you would. I hope they do, you know. They deserve it far more than you two do.”
Hermione looked Harry as the boy continued to berate his aunts. “That is so sad. I will never understand why people do that kind of thing.”
“Shallowness. Never looking beyond what's best for them,” Harry said quietly. "So many are like that."
Hermione nodded, looking mournful.
The parking lot spun away and Dumbledore stood in his office, where his doppelganger and an older, more bitter looking Severus sat by the fire, talking. There was no trace of Ibex.
“Headmaster,” Severus said stiffly, “this is not working. Rookwood's plans advance ever further and you already lost ground when you announced the Dark Lord's return. We must take the offensive.”
The other man rubbed his forehead tiredly. “The type of offensive you are suggesting, Severus, will only give them room to fire upon us. It will make things worse.”
“But then we can fix it!” Severus retorted.
“We must appear not as extremists, but moderates arguing for peace,” Dumbledore replied wearily.
Severus scoffed. “Peaceful revolutions almost never stick. There must be some extremism, there must be rage, there must be struggle. Or things will never change. We need to paint the other side in terms of violence, pain, and destruction. “You must rage against the injustice and the pain they cause.” Severus glared at him. “You must appear to suffer fury and pain. Those who have felt the pain will likely voice their support and help you build a resistance movement. Your pain and suffering will galvanize sympathy and support. The pain of others garners empathy without the people having to actually experience it—pain looks good on other people. It's what they're for.”
Dumbledore's doppelganger looked even sadder.
_____________
Remus was surprised to see an older, greyer version of himself standing in the teacher's lounge at Hogwarts surrounded by a gaggle of children. He spoke to them, telling them about boggarts and then informing them that one resided inside the wardrobe at his back.
Each child confronted the creature and the results were usually hilarious. A spider wearing skates, a tripping mummy...and then Remus paused and then nearly fell over laughing when Snape appeared to be wearing a green dress and a vulture hat rather than his usual dour black robes. Remus decided he liked the boy who had created the image. The little fellow looked a good deal like Alice Longbottom, actually. A small, slight child stepped forward and Remus realized it was a young Ibex. He frowned at the small stature of the boy. James and Lily were both fairly tall and it was unlikely that Harry—Ibex—whatever—would be otherwise without serious reasons. The door opened and something black loomed out of the wardrobe. The older version of Remus leaped forward and the boggart shifted into a moon. It popped like a balloon and with a final Ridikulus! the thing was defeated.
His surroundings spun and he stood on a curse-scarred battlefield in the middle of the night. A small group of people stood in a circle, though they were constantly looking up to scan their surroundings. Remus navigated the crowd and was surprised to see Ibex again, looking blank and lost as he stared at a broken, shattered body. Remus crept closer and discovered it was his own body, his own jawless face that stared at the starlit sky.
__________
Severus landed gracefully on the stone floor of what appeared to be a set of dungeons. A young man lay on the floor, his body a bloody mess and squares of skin piled on the floor next to him, glinting in the torch light. An old, grey haired man walked through the only door and knelt next to the boy, a corner of his robes soaking up a rivlet of blood. Severus moved to examine both the boy and the man. It looked to be Ibex and as he studied the old man's face, he realized it was himself!
“What have you done now, Potter?” the older Snape muttered as he pulled out his wand and cast a series of diagnostic spells. Severus didn't recognize about half the spells used but the ones he did know told him the boy was on the brink of death, though conscious.
Snape levitated the squares of flesh off the floor and deposited them on the boy's chest. He prodded them with the end of his wand and they spread out, returning to their original locations and blending in with the remaining skin. With a series of charms and spells, Snape healed a good chunk of the damage Bellatrix had dealt him and then forced a potion down the boy's throat.
Ibex coughed but drank all that landed in his mouth. Snape stood and the boy looked up at him. “Thank you,” he said weakly.
“I don't do it for you—never think otherwise,” Snape spat and strode through the door.
____________
Sirius landed in the Shrieking Shack, where a ragged version of himself and Remus chased a fat rat across a table as it raced towards a door, leaving paw prints in the greasy dust. Remus landed a spell on the animal and it shifted in aged version of Peter, as he flew off the table and crashed into a clutter of chairs.
This Remus looked furious and Sirius's battered doppelganger yelled as Peter rolled over and stuttered at them. It soon became clear that Sirius and Remus were intent on killing the smaller man and then a boy who was obviously Harry stepped forward and saved Peter's life.
The world spun again and Harry and two other children (a red headed boy who was obviously a Weasley and a bushy haired girl whom Sirius didn't know) spoke to a thin version of himself, sitting on a cave floor. Sirius walked around the scene, listening with one ear as he watched Harry's expression. Worry warred with affection in his eyes and he turned to inspect the other version of himself.
He noted the thin and brittle look to his hair, his papery skin, and the lines around his eyes. It was definitely him but he had suffered immensely. Sirius remembered Dumbledore telling him that if Ibex had not averted the path of destiny, he would have spent years in Azkaban.
Sirius's expression twisted in thought and then the cave shifted and swirled into what was obviously Grimmauld Place. His expression darkened and then he saw Ibex approach his other self to be swept up in an immense hug with Remus smiling fondly at them. Ibex hugged him back, looking happy to be with him. The memory shifted slightly, stopping in the kitchen where the doppelganger sat, intently telling Ibex and his friends something.
The kitchen spun and he stood in a huge amphitheater filled with spell fire. Standing on a platform in front of an ancient looking archway with a thin, transparent veil, stood himself and Bellatrix. The other version of Sirius seemed to be taunting her and she fired a spell at him, catching him off guard and sending him flying through the veil. Harry yelled and raced towards the archway, only to be caught by Remus. Curious, Sirius walked around the archway...and saw only a faintly fluttering veil.
“Truly, the road to enlightenment is like unto half a mile of broken glass.”
James was frustrated. Everyone but him had a chance to view Ibex's memories and they were dancing around letting him see them, especially the ones Lily had been given . And then it all clicked when Lily explained it to him.
“I hadn't realized...” James paused, trying to decide how to say it, “that you were so close to Snape, before fifth year.” He settled on a neutral tone—Lily had made her choice and didn't seem interested in divorce.
“I was,” she said tersely. “What Ibex suggested...might not have been too far from what he was thinking before then. There's more I'm sure, but from what we know Snape felt some sort of responsibility to me to make sure Harry didn't actually die somewhere along the way.”
James nodded carefully.
“And,” Lily added, “Ibex's Dumbledore made him promise to kill him—Snape had no choice.” He knew she wanted to head off a potentially explosive conclusion, so he nodded again.
Dumbledore gestured him forward to the table in Remus's cottage. “Sit, please. I'll guide you through the memories.”
James was displeased but did as requested and sat across from Dumbledore. They both entered the memories and the world began to spin as they dropped into it. It froze for a moment and reversed a rotation or two before spinning again. They stood on the astronomy tower at Hogwarts and Dumbledore immediately lead him to the Headmaster's doppleganger. He pointed at the withered hand peeking out of the long sleeve.
“The result of a curse,” Dumbledore told him clinically and turned around. “That would be Lucius Malfoy's son,” he pointed at a scared and shaking boy standing a few feet away and pointing a wand at the twin. A brief conversation ensued and then Snape burst into the scene, several Death Eaters hot on his heels. Another confrontation and Snape fired a Killing Curse at Dumbledore, sending him flying over the battlements. James's jaw dropped.
Another spin, abrupt reversal, and continued spinning. The two of them stood in a dank dungeon; Bellatrix leaned over a bloody, groaning figure. She crooned to him softly as she peeled squares of skin away.
“That would be your son,” Dumbledore commented, looking nauseous.
Another spin.
“Remus,” Dumbledore pointed at a bloody and broken lump on the ground and shell shocked Harry kneeling next to him, staring at his jawless face.
Spin.
Snape burst through a door and thrust a sobbing woman at a startled Harry. She clutched at him and Snape threw a book at them, looking angry and stiff and bitter as they were portkeyed away.
Spin.
Harry was being held back by a tired and lined Remus as he screamed for Sirius.
Dumbledore pulled them out of the memory, looking sad. “What a life he must have lived.”
James nodded numbly as Lily appeared at his side. He leaned against her for a moment.
Dumbledore nodded, adding, “There are many more.”
“I...don't think I want to see them. What I have seen is a lot to process.” James said, staring at the scarred table in front of him.
“...People need to reduce anxiety by developing confidence in their understandings of the physical and social world and the patterns of responses they sustain. The largely routinized nature of social intercourse helps people structure their identities and enhance their capacity for agency, and accordingly becomes a powerful component of their security system. People suffer acute anxiety when these routines are disrupted by novel or critical situations.” A Cultural Theory of International Relations, by Richard Ned Lebow
This was so much to deal with, James thought. The world had been turned upside down and shaken. Nothing was the same as it had been a year ago—then they had lived in fear of a psychopath murdering them all. That threat had been removed and the purpose of the Order no longer existed. The purpose he had dedicated himself to the minute he had exited the gates of Hogwarts for the last time was empty and he was uncertain as what to do next.
“Facts and the truth aren't often the same thing.”
Harry suspected that the Order would ultimately believe he was a well intentioned extremist. He had given them memories that held much in the way of sentimental value for him—Sirius and Remus had meant a lot. The memories had happened and were not fabricated, but they weren't The Truth.
The Truth about power and control. He would control the course of events, he would shape the world to come. There would be no one else who held the real reigns. He might perhaps appear to step back, but every person in a position to influence the wizarding world would be either on his pay role or one of his Delugians. Every minster, every Prophet editor, every Wizengamot member. His agenda would never be like Voldemort's—he would never give the people a reason to rebel nor the opportunity for leaders like Dumbledore to appear and lead a revolution. -
For those who thought they could defy him, though, he would be judge, jury, and executioner.