“We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.”
― Louise Gluck
1972
In the beginning, he didn’t trust them.
Peter was the least exasperating in his ways, his knowledge of Herbology helped Remus through his classes, and he was kind—a tribute not many people had, at least any people Remus met. But if Peter was the humbleness, the kindness, their group needed, then Sirius was the brazen, outright champion of arrogance that even Remus would begrudgingly admit, added the color life so depressingly often lacked. As for the king himself, James Potter’s extroversion and sanguine demeanor were, to Remus’ extreme irritation, contagious, and it seemed the boy wasn’t going to let their fourth roommate get out of Hogwarts unscathed.
One night, just when Remus was getting used to nightly Sirius’ grunts and grumbles about Mcgonagall, the school workload, and life altogether; Peter’s deafening snores, and James' five AM quidditch practices, though the bastard wasn’t even on the team yet; something struck him in the head and woke him very fast. He yelped and flung his curtains open, looking for the assailant, but nothing was there. Peter snored, James mumbled, Sirius was silent; everything was as it should be. Remus rolled his eyes and dramatically sunk back into bed.
In the morning, everything revealed itself.
“I’m so sorry, Remus,” Peter wailed, and Remus could swear he was going to sob. “I didn’t think it would grow that fast!”
Apparently, Peter’s Puffapod was what attacked him last night, whacked him straight in the head with one of its abnormal beans. Sirius thought it was hilarious, and he showed everyone this by whacking Remus in the head gently with a book. “That familiar?” He’d sniggered.
James was eerily quiet, and that was the most unsettling part. For most of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he’d look up and see the boy looking at him, then immediately look away. Remus considered asking Sirius since they were intertwined in a way no one understood, but he thought better of this. So, this continued until they got back to their dorm. Sirius was having a heated discussion with Marlene downstairs about the Chudley Cannons’ new beater, to which James was not present. The moment the door clicked shut, Remus turned to him.
“Why, are you not down there arguing with McKinnon about quidditch?” He said exasperatedly, in clear distress because what could possibly dim the ethereal light inside of James Potter? The boy in question just worried at a spot on the carpet with his foot. Remus repeated his question.
“It was me!” He burst out, and Remus was very close to laughing at his disastrous hair and glasses that fell off his nose continuously. “I was messing with Peter’s plant, trying to get it to help me and Sirius with a prank.”
Remus just gave him a blank stare for a moment, before grabbing Peter’s stowaway shoe and whacking James over the head with it, though not very hard. His face couldn’t be recreated, it would be one that Remus would remember forever.
To James’ credit, the prank was ingenious. He’d brought the other three to the library, where stacks of books labeled “The Conversion of Sound: A Wizard’s Guide”, “Puffapods, Bogwarts, and the Screaming Mandrake: The Noise Makers of Herbology”, and more. Peter’s Puffapod sat on the table in all its glory, its violet leaves swaying and mocking Remus. He glared at it.
Peter wrung his hands, shifting closer to his beloved plant. “How’d you even get that in here? Madam Pince won’t even let me bring my ham sandwiches.” The poor lad always looked on the verge of tears, or a heart attack, Remus could never tell.
James, now back to his eternal glory since Remus told him he didn’t care at all about the incident the night before, stood proudly with his hands on his hips. However, Sirius flopped dramatically into a chair, running a hand through his raven locks. The boy groaned, “I told you, mate, If I wanted to study, I wouldn’t be me.”
“No, this is a plan for a prank, Black,” James told him hurriedly, grinning ear to ear. Of course, Sirius sat up immediately and raised his eyebrows. Remus distantly wondered if there was anything else that piqued his interest like causing mayhem.
“I got the idea in herbology, you know, when Evans was talking about what the Puffapods do.” His eyes glazed over, looking over a point behind Peter’s shoulder dreamily. Lily would barely look at him since their encounter–or incident, depending on who you ask–with Snape last week, where Sirius very nearly shoved Snape’s wand up his “big nose” (Sirius’ words). Still, never having been used to the word ‘no’, James’ insisted he and Lily were meant for each other.
Sirius snapped his slender fingers and he jumped, a bemused look on his face. Sirius rolled his eyes, “I swear, your obsession with Evans is–”
“Ridiculous?”
“Harassment?”
“Warranted!”
Sirius looked at each of them, perplexed, and finished his sentence, “–screwing with our pranks!”
Remus huffed and grabbed one of the papers, one that displayed a Puffapod’s structure and anatomy, as well as its functions. It was clearly ripped from a book.
“Did you rip this out of a book?”
James turned a dark shade of red, which wasn’t entirely noticeable because of his tan skin, but it was James. Somehow, the most arrogant and optimistic child he’d ever met could also be the most sheepish.
“Possibly.”
Remus deadpanned for just a moment, before starting forward as if to strangle him, but Sirius stood and held up his hands in front of Remus. “I know you love books, but who really cares about a textbook?” He laughed weakly and gave a perfectly good textbook to Remus, who took it before groaning.
“Pince is never going to let us come to the library again.” He slumped into a seat, feeling like he aged several years.
“Well, you need some sun anyway,” James remarked and moved rapidly around the table, showing Peter a picture. “It’ll be worth it once you see this. I’m a mastermind, truly, lads. If you could only–”
“Oh go on!” Peter whinged.
“These plants bloom when a solid object touches them,” James stated and shushed Remus when he mumbled something about actually paying attention for once. “But, I read that they are ideal noise makers. Get what I’m playing at, boys?”
Sirius nodded, slowly reeling in the idea. He shook his pointer finger and marvelled, “You’re a genius, Jamie!”
The genius in question grinned proudly and looked at Remus and Peter, silently asking if they were on board. Remus leaned forward and asked questioningly, “But Puffapods rely on touch, and they’re just flowers. Not exactly gritty.”
Peter perked up, frowning at the plant. “And, if it did work, when? Where? What noise?”
They all scrutinized the questions, leaving it to the first person to come with an idea. Naturally, it was Remus.
“Music.” He looked at Sirius, and the other boy smirked mischievously while returning the look. Remus’ heart lurched oddly, but he ignored it and wracked his brain instead. “And– and we’ll leave ‘em everywhere. Robes, the Kitchens, dormitories, and classrooms. The only thing that ceases Puffapod bloomings is pumpkin juice, but we can create a countercurse, making the noise even louder.”
Sirius joined in quickly. “Yes! There’s my little bookworm!” He resounded.
James and Peter worked on Herbology and learned that they’d, unfortunately, need many more Puffapods. Sirius tracked McGonagall’s schedule, trying to find out when Dumbledore would be back from his latest mysterious trip, as well as picking out songs to fuse into the plant. Remus read up on the countercurse, the plant’s anatomy, and even the effects of pumpkin juice; James kept stacking books until Remus couldn’t see anymore. It resulted in a minor incident.
“Potter if you put one more book down, I’m going to smack you with it.”
“Well, you told me I was banned from reading so–”
“Shut up, you two.” It was a work in progress.
As excited as they were, and as glorious as they felt, the intended plan stretched from a few days to almost a month. The Puffapods had to grow, and Peter had to manage to get Professor Sprout to allow him to use the greenhouses. She’d only allowed it on the weekends, which set them back a few days. Then Sirius was given detention every day for two weeks, Remus was pulling his hair out trying to figure out the countercurse, and James prioritized quidditch even though he wasn’t on the team; suddenly it had been four weeks and they’d barely done anything.
Today, though, they were nearly finished. Remus had effectively worked out the countercurse, trying it on a Puffapod that screeched a distorted version of Purple Haze by Hendrix. Peter had an army of Puffapod plants, which he was very proud of, and named each one of them. Sirius had managed to get a 6th year to tell him if there was anything special happening soon and learned there was a man from the Ministry Department of Education coming on Friday during dinner. His eyes were lit with excitement when he told them, for this man was a friend of his family, and they all knew what that meant.
So, on Friday they sat in the Great Hall, their legs bouncing up and down and fingers tapping anxiously. Lily, who was sitting next to Remus, set down her fork and looked disapprovingly at him.
“Remus, your leg hasn’t stilled since we sat down.” She cautioned.
Remus opened his mouth and closed it. He shrugged, “I heard there was a man from the ministry coming.” He lifted his eyes to look at Sirius sitting across from him, and the boy looked like he was biting down a grin.
However, it seemed to please Lily, or at least distract her, because her big green eyes widened. “The ministry! Oh, how exciting!”
Mary Macdonald snorted next to her, “Only you, Lily. Only you would be excited about that.”
Remus laughed but Lily glared at him. She crossed her arms defensively, “Remus is excited too! It’s why he’s so nervous.”
Remus immediately, metaphorically, shit his pants because Mary gave him a sly look.
“Mhm.” She turned away.
The noise died down when Dumbledore appeared at his winged lectern and shouted with an amplified voice. Remus inhaled sharply and looked at the old man, who began to speak.
“For years, Hogwarts has been a fine institution, arguably the best in the United Kingdom,” He looked around, and people mumbled approving words. “Today, thanks to our brilliant students and proficient staff, we have a visitor from the Ministry.”
Gasps and whispers began to flood throughout the hall, but Dumbledore boomed once more, “Students! I would like to introduce, Osvaldo Avery.”
A dark-skinned, slender man with neat dark robes approached the stand. He did not smile, his expression remained neutral as he nodded at Dumbledore. In front of him, Sirius huffed and looked away. Remus gently nudged his shin with his foot. They smiled at each other.
Avery talked for several minutes about Hogwarts' efficiency and skill, yet he appeared disgusted, as if compelled to express these sentiments. Remus noticed he was holding a scroll.
His heart was beating very fast and he wondered if it was time. As if wondering the same, James tapped his shoulder and whispered, “When did you set them to go off?”
Remus gave him a small panicked look and shrugged. “Whenever?”
James facepalmed.
The room exploded with noise.
Sirius, Peter, Remus, and James quickly covered their ears so as not to look suspicious. A dozen different muggle songs played through the room, varying from Bowie to Bob Dylan. The seeds appeared, due to Remus’ excellent charm work, everywhere in the hall, and the castle, in the span of two seconds. Noise erupted like a thousand tiny bells were enchanted to sing, and a thousand chalkboards were turned to music. And at every single table, on robes and sitting in goblets, were dainty purple flowers.
The man from the Ministry scowled, Dumbledore looked amused, Lily looked scandalized. Remus couldn’t help it, he smiled so widely he was sure somebody would notice, but when he looked over, his friends were doing the same. They’d totally be caught, and he didn’t care.
—
This morning, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban with no trial, accused of murdering 12 muggles and associating with the Dark Lord. The exiled heir to the Black fortune was privy to James and Lily Potter’s location and is accused of betraying them. It is rumored that the Dark Lord has fallen, though confirmation remains uncertain…
(Wells, S. (1981, November). Sirius Black found guilty of murder. The Daily Prophet.)
—
January, 1982
The wind hit him harshly as he stood on the cold stone. Barely any green grew at this time of year, the fields covered in only snow and the sky only covered in uncertainty. He cautiously touched his fingertips to the stone, before changing his mind and pulling back. After the first full moon of the year last week, where the snow seeped into his wounds, where he sat freezing for hours, where he wondered if Death would take him for the first time since he was sixteen; he began to despise the cold.
He and Mary had lunch days after, and she fussed over him. In the tiny tea shop, small cups and biscuits on the table sat uneaten, and they pretended everything was okay. She asked if he heard from Pandora, who just had a baby girl, and he said no. He barely spoke to anyone lately, not trusting the cruelty of the world that managed to burrow its way under his skin. He wished for a lot of things, but to speak to Pandora–or anybody, for that matter– and meet her baby was not one of them.
He kept tabs on Harry, though. However small his inquiries were, he watched the boy from a distance. He spoke of him to Mary, how he still looked so much like James, how he started crawling. Petunia refused to talk to him, and Vernon was too vile to even look at, so Remus didn’t even try–but he asked around. It was quite obvious that Dumbledore himself was doing the same. For various reasons, Harry Potter was being watched.
Pain was an oppressive concept, one Sirius always had trouble grasping. Even though both he and Remus grew up with an enormous amount of pain, Sirius thought of it as a simple hurdle in life, nothing but something to conquer. Remus considered pain a cage, only opened occasionally, but always ready to snap shut.
Since October, the cage felt permanently shut.
He’d get a job soon, as a handyman or repairman most likely. He considered renouncing the Wizarding world like Mary did but decided against it. Mary went to Paris and hurled her wand into the Seine, which was admirable, but irrational. He had nowhere else to go. So, he glued his hands to the bottle, started eating takeout every day, and put Sirius’ things in a storage unit he found in Chelmsford. If you squinted, it looked like healing.
Today, he stood by a grave. He reads the words, still confused. For most of his life, he read those names on school assignments, crude notes, quidditch equipment, books, and letters; he associated those names with something bittersweet and nostalgic. How saddening and bewildering it was to see them on a gravestone.
In Loving Memory of
JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER
27 MARCH 1960 30 JANUARY 1960
31 OCTOBER 1981 31 OCTOBER 1981
The pain was something to be trapped in, and grief was something to get used to. He set down the lily and realized it was the only green he could see. A misty cloud escaped his mouth when he exhaled.
“In the end, you were right.” Was all he said, to nothing it seemed. He didn’t believe in ghosts anymore, even as he remembered laughing at Nearly Headless Nick with Peter and Marlene. No, he believed in nothing. Nothing.
—
1977
“But what if you fall off the broom?”
“Then I’ll die in glory.”
Remus scoffed and shook his head, but he couldn’t wipe away the smile on his face. He sat on a windowsill in an empty classroom, wisps of smoke curling through the air. Sirius sauntered around the classroom, talking animatedly and happily to Remus. He watched the raven-haired boy walk around, spin; his grin, his hair that fell perfectly, his pianist fingers clutching a cigarette. Lately, he did it a lot. He could now.
“You’re staring, Lupin.”
Remus glanced down, a faint blush spreading across his face, but a hand gently lifted his chin, and Sirius stood right before him, their faces just inches apart. Thanks to Lily’s unconventional take on couples therapy—which ended with a furious Remus and a smirking Sirius—it took them many years to come to terms with... whatever this was. In his honest opinion, he didn’t think either of them had fully come to terms with it yet.
Sirius’ eyes flickered to his lips, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Remus. He mumbled, “I didn’t say to stop.”
Remus grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward gently, speaking quietly, “Okay.” Sirius snaked his hand to Remus’ shirt, grasped it tightly, and surged forward. Their lips met, and it wasn’t the first time, but Remus always knew firsts weren’t special, it’s the continuation that meant something. It felt as though Sirius was made for him, but not in the way that James used to talk about Lily, having intertwined souls, tangled together before they even met. No, it was more the fact that Sirius’s body was molded for Remus’ hands, that Remus’ heart was the shape of him, and only he could fill it.
Remus had been alone for a long time, feeling like a spare body, and he never knew how to drown out the noise. Eventually, he stopped searching for it. He stopped searching for a magical answer. Until Sirius.
For something so strong as Remus’ heart, Sirius handled it with utmost care. He treated it like porcelain, something delicate and beautiful, not something broken beyond repair. Last year, when he effectively broke that heart with a prank, he strayed from that. Remus came to believe many things after he forgave him.
He believed people, especially fucking wizards and witches, were complicated and that was something to marvel at from a distance. There was beauty in the mess, he believed, and there were many things to attest to that. Lily’s splash of freckles that matched his, James’ faith and goodness, Marlene’s strong hands that could be so gentle, Mary’s loyalty that puts her in danger so often, and Sirius, oh Sirius, his entire being was a contradiction. Everything Remus believed in sprouted from that boy, and the disaster that was humanity could only be seen as beautiful through a lens that Sirius crafted.
Remus never had faith before. He went to Sunday school when he was young, but he only remembers his mother’s pretty hair and Sunday outfit, immense boredom, and a very important book. Now, he believed so deeply it hurt, as if the weight of it could crush him.
Sirius curled his hand in Remus’ hair and smiled into the kiss. “Geez, Moons. Brought me up here just to–” He kissed him, effectively shutting him up.
Mostly, he believed in this, and he believed it would last a long time.
—
1993
Peter scurried through the dilapidated house. Remus pointed his wand at him, and memories of practicing pranks resurfaced, but he shoved them down. He isn’t their friend anymore, he’s a coward, a vile traitor. Maybe he always had been, the thought echoes in his brain.
Sirius looked terrible. It was unsettling to Remus after seeing him look so young, so beautiful, for years. His hair was matted and disastrous, his clothes shredded and dirty, and his eyes were no longer full of life. They were dark and vengeful, but he could see them change when they looked at Remus. Maybe he did feel seventeen again when he hugged Sirius, maybe Sirius did too.
He watched Hermoine yell at him. He watched Harry, the very image of their lost best friend, attack Snape. He watched Peter transform. He watched as Peter pleaded, the audacity astounding him. He watched this play out before his very eyes, and his heart could barely keep up.
He thought he buried the grief, but it clawed its way out. The events of today opened his wounds.
Still, he remembers. He remembers.