The Reprise

Any sign of Snape’s sympathy toward Remus crumbled the day he came back after the full moon in November.

Not only had Snape gone out of his way to teach Remus’s third year students about werewolves during a cover lesson, but Snape had also assigned them homework to write two rolls of parchment on how to kill werewolves. Remus’s third years weren’t even close to the chapter on werewolves.

Snape had made them write a step-by-step tutorial on how to kill Remus.

To say the least, it wasn’t a very pleasant surprise for Remus after he came back, still not quite feeling like himself. This month’s full moon had been particularly bad; the wolf seemed to be restless. Perhaps it was the subconscious knowledge that Sirius was back, or maybe it was because the Dementors surrounding the grounds were growing more frustrated by the moment. Anyhow, Remus was feeling like utter crap.

With a throbbing headache, which Remus tried his best to mask, he looked back at his class, where half the students were either complaining or apologising about not doing the homework Snape had set for them.

“It’s not fair! He was only filling in; why should he set us homework?”  

“We don’t know anything about werewolves—”  

“—Two rolls of parchment!”

The students shouted over each other. Remus sighed as he rubbed his hand over his forehead before speaking up again.

“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” 

The babble broke out again:

“Yes, but he said we were really behind—”  

“—He wouldn’t listen—”  

“—Two rolls of parchment!”

Remus wasn’t intending to read through a step-by-step tutorial on how to get himself killed. He looked down at his desk, where Hermione’s already finished essay was staring back at him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay,” Remus said with a soft smile as the class broke out into a fit of cheers.

The rest of the class went relatively smoothly, as everyone seemed happy about Remus’s return and took notes about the Hinkypunks quietly. Remus was very grateful, as he wasn’t feeling well enough to deal with any more problems.

When the bell rang, everyone started clearing out of the classroom when Remus called out to Harry.  

“Wait a moment, Harry. I’d like a word.”

Harry stopped as Remus covered the Hinkypunk they had used for the lesson with a cloth before he turned around to look at him.

“I heard about the match,” Remus started as he went back behind his desk and began collecting books in his briefcase. During Harry’s last match against Hufflepuff, a Dementor attacked Harry, which resulted in him falling off his broom. The broom apparently got taken by the wind, straight into the Whomping Willow, which resulted in Harry now having no broom at all. They had lost the whole match because of this incident and Remus felt the urge to ask Harry if he was okay.

 “And I’m sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?” Remus asked, but he already knew the answer. He knew what the Whomping Willow was capable of.

“No,” said Harry. “The tree smashed it to bits.” 

Remus felt a wave of guilt wash over him. The Whomping Willow had been planted because of him, and now it had resulted in Harry’s broom being destroyed. Remus sighed before speaking up again.

“They planted the Whomping Willow the same year I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to see who could get the closest and touch the tree’s trunk. In the end, a boy named Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden from going near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

“Did you hear about the Dementors too?” Harry asked, his voice a little shaky.

Remus frowned as he answered, “Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore this angry. They’ve been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded, then hesitated before continuing, “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—”

“It has nothing to do with weakness, Harry,” Remus asserted, cutting him off. He knew exactly what Harry was about to say. “The Dementors affect you more than the others because you have horrors in your past that others don’t have.”

“And the worst that has happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of,” Remus continued, his voice serious.

“When they get near me…” Harry muttered, “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.”

Remus visibly flinched at that. He was about to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder but decided against it. He knew Harry had gone through things no child should have to endure. Ever. It pained him to know he couldn’t do anything to help. Remus couldn’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness and responsibility over Harry.

“The Dementors have been getting hungry as Dumbledore isn’t letting them into the castle; they simply have no prey. They are made to suck out any fond memory and only leave you with the most dreadful ones. That’s why most people go mad in Azkaban—stuck inside four brick walls with nothing but your darkest and most haunting memories. I’d go mad as well.”

“But Sirius Black escaped from them…” Harry spoke up again. “He got away.”

“Yes,” Remus said, trying his best not to let the tremble in his voice show too much. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius had no good memories left and had gone completely mad, or if he had stayed strong throughout his stay. Remus didn’t know which one he hoped for.

“Black must’ve found a way to fight them. I wouldn’t have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his power if they are left with him too long.”

“You made that Dementor back off on the train, though…” Harry suddenly said.

“There are—certain defenses one can use…” Remus said hesitantly. “However, there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the harder it is to fight them.”

“What defenses? Can you teach me?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry—quite the contrary.”

“But if the Dementors come to another match, I need to be able to fight them—”

Remus hesitated for a moment. He was doing this for Lily, for James, partly for himself, and now for Harry.

“Well—alright, I suppose. I’ll try and help. But no promises, alright? I am no expert in this field.”

Harry’s face lit up at that as he started nodding in agreement before Remus even finished his sentence. “Yes, thank you so much, Professor! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

For Remus, it was worth it just to see the excitement on Harry’s face.

…

Remus spent Christmas of 1993 back home, in his flat in London. Alone.

He didn’t mind too much. He was actually quite used to it by now, spending every holiday alone, but just the knowledge that Sirius was lurking somewhere made Remus feel unnerved. He started seeing Sirius everywhere again; Remus hated it. Every corner he turned there was either a song playing that brought back memories, or even a person who had similar raven black hair; Remus felt like he was the one going mad. 

So when he finally arrived back at Hogwarts—where the memories of Sirius perhaps started appearing even more than in London—Remus was at least able to distract himself from his thoughts with his work.

What also wasn’t helping was the fact that Harry apparently received a Firebolt broom—the best broom currently on the market—on Christmas from someone anonymous. McGonagall had confiscated it, in case it was jinxed, because she thought Sirius had sent it. Honestly, Remus wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t then processing the news for the next three days.

Remus had considered many times whether to inform Dumbledore about Sirius being an Animagus—perhaps that was how he had managed to get into the castle. It made sense.

But every time Remus thought about it, he faltered. Revealing this information to Dumbledore would undoubtedly destroy the trust between them. Dumbledore was a brilliant man, and it wouldn’t take him long to piece everything together: that Sirius—and the others—had been sneaking out with Remus during full moons, despite the strict rules forbidding anyone from even going near the Whomping Willow.

Instead, Remus forced himself to believe that Sirius must have used some kind of Dark magic—perhaps something he’d learned from Voldemort. It was the only explanation that managed to keep Remus sane in these past few weeks.

The second Thursday back after the break, Remus and Harry met up in the History of Magic classroom for Harry’s first anti-Dementor training Remus had agreed to. Despite wanting to help Harry, Remus didn’t know if he was excited about it or dreading it.

Remus arrived at the classroom with a large case—which was awfully heavy—and set it down on Professor Binns’s desk. Harry had already arrived before him.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“Another Boggart,” Remus stated. “It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when it sees you, and then we can practice on it. I can store it in my office when we’re not using it; there’s a cupboard under my desk that I reckon it’ll like.”

“Okay…” Harry said, looking a bit nervous. Remus tried to smile softly at him to calm him down, but he seemed to be unsuccessful.

“So…” Remus started as he pulled out his wand from his jacket and indicated for Harry to do the same. “The spell I’m going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry—well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It’s called the Patronus Charm.”

Remus stated, and he and Harry then spent the better part of the next hour practicing how to properly conjure the spell. By the 34th “Expecto Patronum,” Remus decided that Harry probably had enough.

They eventually moved on to trying out the spell on the Boggart itself, in which Harry failed both times—only a small blue light coming out of his wand, barely doing any damage. It was still more than Harry was supposed to be able to do. 

Despite seeing Lily every time he looked at Harry, when Remus finally asked him what happy memory he was thinking of, he thought for a moment that he was transported 20 years back in time and it was actually James he was talking to.

“Flying my broom for the first time,” Harry confessed, and Remus didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. 

After giving Harry a proper lecture on how that memory wasn’t even half good enough to fight off a Dementor, Remus still wasn’t surprised by Harry’s response. He was James’s son, after all. Remus knew James would’ve been even more proud than he ever was in his entire life—which is quite a huge statement to make, as James was one of the proudest people Remus had ever met.

Remus and Lily were peacefully enjoying their dinner after the day’s big Quidditch match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. James and Sirius were somewhere celebrating their win and Remus had the faintest idea on where Peter was at that moment.

Suddenly, the massive doors of the Great Hall burst open, and in stormed the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team—plus Sirius, who had quit the team the previous year. At the front of the group was James, leading them through the tables. They were loud, ecstatic, and full of energy. What surprised Remus most, however, was that they were all yelling the lyrics to “Starman” by David Bowie. He suspected the idea had come from Sirius.

“THERE’S A STARMAN WAITING IN THE SKY,
HE’D LIKE TO COME AND MEET US, BUT HE THINKS HE’LL BLOW OUR MINDS!”

They were past the volume of singing and we’re practically yelling the song’s lyrics across the whole castle. All eyes in the hall turned toward them, which only seemed to make them more gleeful.

“Let all the children boogie!” they bellowed at the end of the song, dissolving into laughter as the Gryffindor table—and even some students at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables—burst into applause and cheers.

Lily, however, simply rolled her eyes and took another bite of her baked potatoes.

Once the team had dispersed, James and Sirius joined Remus and Lily, sitting down across from them. Behind Sirius, Remus noticed the Slytherin table sending absolute death glares their way. It made Remus huff out a small laugh under his breath before he took a bite of his food.

“Another win in the bag,” James stated with a huge grin spread across his face.

“Careful,” Remus replied with a smirk, “if the Slytherins hear you, they’ll probably curse you for life.”

James turned around to look at the Slytherin table before turning back, beaming more than before, if such a thing was even possible.

Sirius seemed to have the same mentality as he spoke up  “I hope this match haunts them forever. We absolutely crushed them!”

“We’re never letting them live this down,” James declared, as though finishing Sirius’ sentence.

Lily rolled her eyes again before finally speaking up. “You guys are so full of yourselves. It’s just a Quidditch match,” she deadpanned, her tone flat. Remus suspected she felt bad for the Slytherins' loss; Remus, however, did not as he was smiling back at James and Sirius.

“Just a Quidditch mat-?” James asked incredulously, cutting himself off in disbelief. “You ought to expect for me to feel proud! We beat them 20 to 240 points and it got us the Quidditch cup!”

Lily raised an eyebrow, chewing more slowly as if mulling it over. Then she shrugged nonchalantly, swallowing her food.

Suddenly, James leapt to his feet and climbed onto the table.

“Oh my God, James! What are you—” Lily began, but she was cut off as James shouted over the hall.

“GUESS WHO WON THE MATCH AND THE QUIDDITCH CUP?” he bellowed.

The Gryffindor table erupted in a deafening roar: “GRYFFINDOR!” Remus found himself shouting along with them, a broad smile on his face.

“POTTER! GET DOWN THIS INSTANT! Five points from Gryffindor!” Professor McGonagall scolded from her seat.

James sat back down, a smug grin still plastered on his face.

“You’re insufferable,” Lily said, glaring at him.

“Insufferably handsome?” James quipped, his good mood unshaken.

“More like insufferably annoying.”

When Harry tried for the third time, now visibly more exhausted than before, the light from his wand was even dimmer. Before Remus could react, Harry was collapsing to the ground and Remus quickly sent the Boggart away with a firm “Ridikkulus!” before he went to help Harry off the floor.

“Harry! Harry, wake up…” Remus shook him gently, and Harry stirred, sitting up almost immediately. Remus internally decided that Harry had had enough for the day.

“I heard my dad,” Harry murmured, his words making Remus’ heart sink. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him…” Harry trailed off, a quiet sob escaping before he could stop it.

Remus couldn’t help but frown as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around the boy for comfort. Instead he just sent Harry a sympathetic look, trying to ignore the pang in his chest before he spoke up.

“You heard James?” Remus asked softly.

Harry blinked. “Yeah… You didn’t know my dad, did you?”

Remus hadn’t even realized he’d used James’ first name—it came naturally.

“Yes, I did, actually. We were quite good friends at school.” Remus said quickly before he went quiet–he didn’t want to get too emotional in front of Harry.

Remus suddenly pulled out some chocolate from his pocket and handed it to Harry as they both sat down on the step which separated the teacher’s desk from the rest of the classroom.

“I think you’ve had enough for one night.. But I must admit that what you managed to do right there was definitely a solid start!” he said, attempting to lift Harry’s spirits. It didn’t seem to work.

“Eat the lot.” Remus pointed to the chocolate Harry was holding. “Otherwise Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood.”

Harry quietly took a bite and they both fell into a comfortable silence. That was until Harry suddenly started.

“Professor Lupin? If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.” Harry said suddenly.

Remus froze. The question made him feel like being stabbed. No one had ever asked Remus that before. No one. 

“What gives you that idea?” he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

“I just know they were friends at Hogwarts…” Harry said, startled by the reaction.

Remus exhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax.

“Yes,” he said after a pause. “I knew him. Or at least, I thought I did.”

...

The next few lessons with Harry were going quite well in Remus’s eyes. Harry, however, seemed very frustrated with himself, as he wasn’t able to properly conjure a full Patronus. Remus had to keep reminding him that 13-year-olds aren’t supposed to be able to do that.

“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” Remus stated in their fourth week of practice as Harry slumped down in one of the chairs in the classroom.

“I thought the Patronus would—charge the Dementors down or something,” Harry said dispiritedly. “Make them disappear—”

Remus looked at him sympathetically. “The true Patronus does do that. However, you’ve achieved a great deal in the past few weeks, and I’m certain that if the Dementors make an appearance at your next match, you will fight them off just fine.”

“You said it’s harder when there are more of them.”

“I have complete confidence in you.”

Remus then went to take something from the desk and handed it to Harry. “Here, you’ve earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks—you wouldn’t have tried it before.”

“Butterbeer!” Harry suddenly cut him off, and Remus raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uh, Ron and Hermione brought me some last time!” Harry said, and Remus tried his best not to smirk.

“I see,” Remus said suspiciously before he sat down on a chair next to Harry, and they drank their Butterbeers in silence. Harry suddenly spoke up, taking Remus by surprise.

"What's under a Dementor's hood?"

Remus lowered his bottle thoughtfully before answering.

"Hmmm... well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Remus, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to utterly destroy. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there because they clamp their jaws upon the victim’s mouth and— and suck out their soul."

Harry spat out a bit of Butterbeer in response. Remus huffed out a laugh, despite the topic being so serious.

"What— they kill—?"

"Oh no," said Remus, shaking his head. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no... anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever... lost."

Remus drank a little more Butterbeer as he looked down into his cup, then said, in a quieter voice than usual, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry has given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

Despite everything, a part of Remus wished they would never find Sirius, so he wouldn’t have to experience that.

"He deserves it," Harry said suddenly.

"You think so?" said Remus lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?" Remus at least didn’t. Not when it came to Sirius.

Perhaps he was biased, but he knew the morning he'd find out about Sirius Black receiving the Dementor’s Kiss would be the morning he’d probably relapse once again. A part of Remus hated himself even more because of that. He hated Sirius, for everything that he’d done. He ruined everything. But deep inside, Remus still missed him and was clinging to the last piece of hope that Sirius perhaps wasn’t here to kill Harry after all.

"Yes," said Harry defiantly. "For... for some things..."

"Hm." Remus mumbled as he took another sip from his drink before turning to look at Harry. The bright green eyes were staring back at him, and Remus couldn’t help but be reminded of Lily once again.

"You know, the very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately." Remus started. "Not by your scar, by your eyes. They’re your mother, Lily’s."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him before Remus continued.

"Oh yes, I knew her." He paused. "Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was… Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, but she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves."

Harry smiled at Remus, which he took as a green light to continue with his little speech. Remus couldn’t help but ignore the pang in his chest.

"Your father, James, on the other hand... he, uh..." Remus chuckled as he clicked his tongue. "He had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed on to you."

Harry chuckled under his breath as he looked down into his drink, his ears turning slightly pink.

"You’re more like them than you know, Harry."

…

In the following two weeks, Harry managed to successfully conjure a Patronus a few times and was able to send the Boggart back into its case without any help from Remus. Remus was beyond proud of him.

The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match had finally rolled around, and Harry had been given his Firebolt back. Apparently, it had no jinxes or any kinds of mishaps, which, in all honesty, made Remus’ hope for Sirius’ insanity not to be irreversible even stronger. He, of course, had no idea if Sirius actually sent the broom so he obviously didn’t mention this to anyone and instead internally slapped himself back to reality. Sirius was a mass murderer who killed his best friends. Remus had no idea why he was suddenly hoping for Sirius to be okay, but perhaps he’d always feel that way. Despite this, he still hated Sirius for everything and perhaps he always would. He should’ve known that Sirius was a horrible person. Fifth year had proven Sirius’ loyalty more than enough.

That weekend, Remus went to see the Quidditch match and was so happy to see Harry flying around—sending a successful Patronus charm toward Malfoy, who was pretending to be a Dementor to distract Harry—and even catching the Snitch! He knew Lily and especially James would’ve been so proud of him. Remus was, too.

…

About a week later, during his nightly patrol, Remus was walking through the hallways at night. More teachers were required for nightly patrols, as it was considered too dangerous for prefects to be wandering around on their own. Remus kind of felt bad for the prefects, as that was the only time when he could smoke in peace without James throwing a fit about how the whole dorm stunk. In all honesty, he was really craving a cigarette right now and had been for the past month or two. However, he resisted the urge. He had quit, after all.

The past week had been nothing short of horrible for Remus. Sirius Black had reportedly broken into the Gryffindor Tower, and Ron Weasley claimed to have woken up to find him standing in the dormitory, holding a knife. Ron insisted that this was true, but something about the story didn’t sit right with Remus.

If Sirius had been there to kill, why didn’t he? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t killed before. And even if he had been there, how had he vanished so quickly? Hogwarts was heavily protected, and Sirius couldn’t Apparate—not to Remus’ knowledge, anyway.

The pieces didn’t fit. The more Remus thought about it, the more questions it raised.

As he was walking down one of the halls, he heard two voices coming from behind the corner, and he immediately went to investigate. There, however, he only found Snape and Harry holding none other than the infamous Marauders’ Map.

"You insolent little—" Remus heard Snape say before he cut him off.

"Professor," Remus called out, and Snape snapped his head toward him, his wand shining bright in Remus’s face.

"Well, well. Lupin," Snape said slowly. "Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. He resisted the urge to punch him right there and then before he turned to Harry. Who the hell did Snape think he was? Remus wasn’t going to start any fights with him, though. He promised himself he wouldn’t for the sake of everything.

"Harry?" Remus asked softly. "You alright?"

Harry nodded, but Snape was already talking. Again.

"That remains to be seen," he said as he—very dramatically—snatched the map from Harry’s hands, almost as if it was Snape’s personal diary before turning back to Remus.

"I have now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin. It is your area of expertise afterall. Clearly, it’s full of Dark Magic." Snape handed the paper over. Remus was keen on not letting the map go again.

Filch had confiscated it back in the last week of their seventh year, and James had insisted on not rescuing it, instead leaving it for the future generations of Marauders to find and use for their own mischievous acts. If only James knew.

Remus looked at it, as if it were merely an old, scrappy piece of parchment, before letting out a huff of laughter and looking at Snape amusedly.

"Oh, I seriously doubt it, Severus," Remus started. "It looks to me as if it’s merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it."

Remus chuckled as best as he could. "I suspect it's a Zonko product."

Snape tried to snatch the map back, but Remus dodged his attempt. "Nevertheless, I shall look into it, as you say it is my area of expertise."

Remus smirked at the disgusted look on Snape’s face before he turned to Harry and mumbled a quick, "Come along," before he led him back to the DADA classroom.

"Professor, I—"

"I don't want to hear explanations," said Remus shortly.

He glanced around the empty classroom—it’s not like there was anyone there anyway—and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map," he said as Harry looked amazed. "I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. I can't let you have it back, Harry."

"But it’s not like anyone else knows about it anyway!"

"I seriously doubt that. And even if that were the case, I can’t let you wander around the school grounds alone at night..." Remus hesitated. "These mapmakers could want to lure you out of school. They’d think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you know them?" said Harry, impressed.

"We’ve met," he said shortly. Yes he had been hoping for getting Sirius’ story wrong, but that didn’t mean that the better part of him knew that Sirius was dangerous. Remus wouldn’t survive it if something happened to Harry, he’d never let himself live it down.

Remus’ voice was sharp as he looked down at Harry. "Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them."

"Now I want you to go back into your dormitory and stay there. Don’t take any detours. If you do, I shall know," Remus said as he tapped the map with his finger but was interrupted by Harry.

"Just, Professor..." Harry muttered. "I don’t think that map always works."

Remus looked at him, confused. The map always worked. Remus had made sure of it at least.

"Earlier..." Harry continued. "It showed someone in the castle. Someone I know to be dead."

"Really? And who might that be?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

Remus felt his entire world shatter before his eyes. Peter was dead. He had died on October 31, 1981. Remus had mourned him. He had attended Peter’s funeral. Peter Pettigrew had died a hero. There was no way he could possibly be in the castle.

“That’s—” Remus stammered. “That’s not possible.”

“Just what I saw,” Harry mumbled, his voice quiet as he turned and walked toward the door. “Goodbye, Professor.”

Remus stood frozen in the middle of the classroom, his mind racing to process what he had just heard.

When Harry was gone, Remus shakily pulled the Marauder’s Map from his pocket, laying it on the desk in front of him. He whispered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” watching as ink began to bloom across the parchment like tiny rivers, revealing the familiar lines of Hogwarts.

A strange sense of deja vu swept over him as he scanned the map, his eyes darting over the tiny, moving dots. He searched carefully, desperately, for any sign of Peter.

And then he found it.

There, clear as day, was a dot labeled Peter Pettigrew, moving through one of the castle’s hallways.

Harry hadn’t been lying.

Remus’ breath hitched as he resisted the immediate urge to storm out of the room and confront him. But then the implications of what he was seeing hit him like a thunderclap.

If Peter was alive, then Sirius hadn’t killed him.

That meant Peter had been at Godric’s Hollow that night. ALive. And he had left Godric’s Hollow. Alive.

Remus’ thoughts raced further, piecing together what this revelation meant. Hagrid had told him that Sirius was at Godric’s Hollow that night when he arrived. He had been crying, pleading Hagrid to let him take Harry, as he was the boy’s godfather. Hagrid had refused, of course, under Dumbledore’s orders.

But if Sirius hadn’t killed Peter, did that mean that he hadn’t killed those 13 Muggles as well? Remus had no way of proving that.

For twelve years, Remus had believed that Sirius had killed Peter. For twelve years, he had mourned the loss of his friend and the betrayal of another.

But it had all been a lie.