“Harry cast about for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing that had happened to him at the Dursleys’ was going to do. Finally, he settled on the moment when he had first ridden a broomstick.” - Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 12
Remus forced the boggart back into its chest with an anguished cry, leaning on his forearms as he caught his breath. The physical exertion wasn’t the worst part - although his joints still ached from last week’s full moon - but his heart broke to watch Harry collapse into the cold unfeeling depths of his greatest fear.
“Harry! Harry, are you alright?” He shook the boy back into reality, forcing bits of his favorite Honeydukes chocolate into Harry’s hands. For a fleeting second, he remembered a time when James sat in the hospital wing passing Remus squares of the same chocolate, and while felt his chest clench at the heartbreaking parallels, he refused to let himself fall too deeply into what had been and what almost was. The two sat together for a moment, each recovering from their own sadness, before Harry spoke.
“I heard my mother again. It’s worse than it was on the train, even. I can hear him, too, this time. ”
“James?” For a fleeting second, Remus was almost - almost - jealous at the thought that Harry had heard his father. There was very little that Remus wouldn’t give to hear the voice of his closest friend again.
“Yeah, he’s telling my mother to run...” Harry trailed off, looking stone faced and far older than his thirteen years. Remus grimaced, guilt running through him. Guilt at his jealousy, at his failure to protect Harry from those nightmares, and of course at the gnawing feeling that it was all his fault, anyway. Would James and Lily still have chosen Peter if they didn’t think he was the spy? Would he have been able to save them in time, had it not been a full moon that Halloween? What would have been different if he hadn’t been the monster that he is, would this boy in front of him still have parents? He forced himself to snap out of it, because no matter how much he deserved to suffer at the hands of his own guilt, Harry didn’t.
“Did you know him? My dad, I mean?” Harry’s innocent question hit Remus like an unforgivable directly to his gut.
“Yes, we were the same year at Hogwarts,” Remus tried to brush off the question, feeling that his answer, while true, seemed like a direct insult to James’ memory. Then again, how could Remus possibly explain what Harry’s father had meant to him?
“Perhaps we should call it a night-”
“No, Professor. Please, let me have one more go!”
“Alright, once more. Now remember, the happiest memory you can manage. On three, ready?” Remus reached to open the chest.
“One… two… three!”
“Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum, EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry had managed to conjure a bright light, the beginnings of a patronus, from the end of his wand. The boggart staggered at it, and Remus quickly shoved it back into the box.
“Wonderful, Harry! Well done. That’ll be all for tonight, I think, but perhaps we can have at it again next week?”
“Alright, Professor,” Harry agreed, munching on the chocolate Remus had handed him. “Harry, if you don’t mind me asking, I’m curious. What was the memory you chose?”
“That last time, I was remembering when Hagrid came and gave me my letter. The day I found out I was a wizard. Before that, I was thinking of the first time I rode a broom, but I guess that wasn’t strong enough. Goodbye, professor. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Thank you!” Harry picked up his wand and discarded books, smiling gratefully at Remus as he left and headed towards the great hall. Remus could barely manage a smile, though, as Harry’s words echoed in his head. The first time I rode a broom.
***
“Prongs, you home?” Sirius called out as he and Remus stumbled through the floo. Lily came around the corner, holding Harry on her hip.
“Oh, hello you two! James is just upstairs, he’ll be down in a minute. I’m just about to put the kettle on, either of you want some tea?”
“Sure, I’ll have some. Let me help, I’ll get the kettle. Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Remus offered, gesturing to Harry. He headed into the Potter’s small kitchen, and with a flick of his wand, filled the teapot and started a flame underneath it. He reached into the cabinet for two mugs, and set them on the counter. Back in the living room, he could hear James coming down the stairs and greeting Sirius. When the kettle whistled he filled the mugs and floated them in front of them as he headed back to join his friends.
Sirius was sitting on the floor with Harry, holding him up and cooing at him, while going on and on about how he hadn’t had near enough ‘quality time’ with his godson. Remus laughed at the tender sight, seeing his boyfriend interact with Harry. Remus and Sirius didn’t want kids of their own, but they had agreed easily to be the kind of uncles who spoiled all of James and Lily’s kids.
In fact, that had been the exact purpose of their visit today. Well, aside from seeing their best friends, something the seemed to have less and less chances to do recently. They needed any excuse they could get, and Sirius had found the perfect one while the two of them wandered through Diagon Alley last week: a small, toddler-safe broom which flew only a foot off the ground. Remus had needed barely any convincing from Sirius in order to purchase the broom. Despite the sales lady at Quality Quidditch Supplies informing them that the broom was intended for children older than Harry, Sirius claimed that Harry was James’ child, and if any one should start flying as early as possible, it was him. Of course, they agreed not to mention the intended age range to Lily.
Nevertheless, she was still wary of the gift when Sirius presented it to the young Potter. James, on the other hand, could not have been more excited. In only a few minutes, Harry had the broom clutched in his hands, examining it with the enthusiasm that only a child could. By the time Remus and Lily were on their second cups of tea, James was supporting Harry on the broom, guiding his son around the coffee table, while Sirius commentated.
“And he’s off! Harry Potter, the youngest quidditch player the Gryffindor team has ever seen, as made the team at only a year old. Look, watch as he skillfully dodges the cat, look at him go! Lily, write McGonagall, let her know what she’s got coming. Harry Potter’s been flying since before he could walk!” James and Remus cheered, and Lily rolled her eyes. Her smile shone through, however, and she laughed at her boys.
“Thank you for the gift. I’m still not sure he’s old enough for this, but I have to admit, it’s kind of perfect,” Lily conceded. You’re both staying for supper, right? Peter should be over in a bit.” Sirius and Remus agreed easily, and James smiled as he swung Harry up onto his shoulders.
“Wonderful! You both ought to come around more often. Harry misses you. Hell, I miss you,” James said, getting momentarily sentimental. This happened often between the group of friends; in the midst of what should’ve been a joyful moment, one of them would remember that they were children fighting a war and that any day could be their last. They always just played it off and smiled instead.
That night, the Maruaders ate and laughed and reminisced as they regaled each other with their favorite Hogwarts memories - best pranks, quidditch highlights, and years and years of pining - and discussed everything they hoped for Harry when he was old enough to attend school. For a few hours, they all ignored the war they had signed up to fight before they had a chance to grow up.
A few weeks later, the Potters went into hiding and things began to deteriorate, but for years, Remus clung to that last night they all spent together, laughing as Harry flew around and pretending the world didn’t exist.
***
I was thinking of the first time I rode a broom, though I guess that wasn’t strong enough.
Remus wished that Harry had been able to remember the night when he flew on the broom Sirius and Remus brought him, the actual first time Harry rode a broom. He wondered if Harry would appreciate knowing that Lily had laughed in spite of herself, or that at least James had seen his son fly before he died. He cringed knowing that Harry only knew Sirius as a murderer and escaped prisoner, when he should’ve grown up with Padfoot as his godfather. Thinking of that hurt almost as much as the first time Harry called Remus ‘Professor Lupin,’ which felt so wrong when only eleven years ago he had been ‘Uncle Moony.’
Remus couldn’t help but think that if Harry knew about the first time rode a broom, that night when they were all together and happy for the last time, it might have been enough for the boy to produce corporeal patronus.
It was for Remus, at least.