Eclipsed

The early morning light filtered through the curtains of Sirius’s bedroom, casting soft shadows across the room. Sirius sat at the small desk in the corner, his quill scratching across parchment as he wrote a letter to Madam Pomfrey. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his mind racing as he tried to put his concerns into words.

Dear Madam Pomfrey, he began, the quill steady in his hand. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m writing to ask if you could provide me with copies of Remus’ records from his time at Hogwarts. He’s been through quite a rough patch lately, and I want to make sure I’m fully informed about any preexisting injuries that might affect his recovery. I understand these records are sensitive, but I’d be grateful for your help.

He paused, re-reading his words, before adding, Thank you for all you’ve done for us over the years. Your guidance has meant the world to me.

Satisfied, he signed his name and sealed the letter. With a flick of his wand, the parchment folded itself into a small, neat square, which he attached to the leg of the owl perched on the windowsill. “Take this to Madam Pomfrey, at Hogwarts,” Sirius instructed softly. The owl hooted in acknowledgment and took off into the morning sky.

Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair. He glanced over at the bed where Remus lay, still fast asleep. Dark circles shadowed Remus’s eyes, and his brow was furrowed even in sleep, as if he was still fighting off the nightmares of the past few months. Sirius’s heart ached at the sight, and he quietly vowed to do everything in his power to help his partner heal.

A couple hours later, the owl returned, a reply from Madam Pomfrey clutched in its talons. Sirius took the letter, quickly unrolling the parchment.

Sirius, it read, Thank you for reaching out- and remember, it's just Poppy now! As for Remus' file, there’s quite a bit to go over, certainly too much for an owl to carry, so it might be best if we exchanged it in person. How about tea at the Three Broomsticks? I can meet you there today at four.

Sirius glanced at the clock on the wall— only three now, there was still time before he needed to leave. He looked back at Remus, who hadn’t stirred, his breathing still deep and even. Sirius gently brushed a lock of hair from Remus’s forehead, then stood, grabbing his cloak and wand.

“I’ll be back soon, love,” Sirius whispered, unsure if Remus had even heard him. He placed a soft kiss on Remus’s temple before quietly leaving the room. With a quick note left for James once he returned from school, he quietly slipped out of the room and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

The familiar sight of the Three Broomsticks greeted Sirius as he stepped inside, shaking off the afternoon chill. The pub was already busy, filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes, but he barely registered it. His gaze swept the room until he spotted Madam Pomfrey—Poppy—sitting at a corner table, a pot of tea already steaming between them. She met his eyes with a knowing look, one that made him feel sixteen again, standing in the hospital wing after a particularly reckless stunt.

“Sirius,” she greeted warmly, standing to give him a brief but firm hug.

“You too, Poppy. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course. Sit, drink, and tell me what’s happened,” she said, pouring them both a cup of tea without waiting for a reply.

Sirius sat, exhaling sharply. He hadn't stopped moving long enough to feel tired, but suddenly, the exhaustion was pressing against his ribs. “Remus had a bad run-in with some werewolves. It was ugly. He took a hit to the head—it bled like hell—and his hip dislocated. Effie Potter did a solid job stabilizing him, but his back is acting up again. I’ve been managing his recovery, but…” He hesitated, glancing down at his tea. “Still, he’s been sleeping almost non-stop for two days, and when he is awake…” Sirius hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “He’s—well, he’s been like how he used to be when he was sick at school. Just wants to be held, cries, and then sleeps again. He hasn’t done that in years.”

Pomfrey listened intently, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she considered his words. “That alone isn’t necessarily a bad sign,” she said. “But paired with the head injury, I don’t like it.” She flipped open a thick folder of parchment, skimming over her notes before tapping one particular page. “During his school years, his body had a tendency to shut down when overwhelmed. If he’s responding the same way now, it could mean his system is under more strain than you realize.”

Sirius frowned, already running through all the diagnostic spells he had performed. “I checked for swelling in his brain, cognitive impairment, balance issues—everything looks normal. But the fact that he won’t stay awake for long…” He exhaled sharply. “It doesn’t sit right with me either.”

Pomfrey nodded approvingly. “You were always thorough. But there’s something else you should consider—lycanthropic healing is unpredictable. If his body is prioritizing one injury over the others, it might be why he’s so exhausted. And given his history…” She flipped another page and ran a finger along the parchment. “His back is what worries me most.”

Sirius leaned in, already knowing what she was about to say but needing to hear it anyway.

“The injury from his fifth year—the one from that night,” she said, glancing up at him knowingly. Sirius swallowed, guilt pressing down on him. “It nearly caused permanent nerve damage. We had to immobilize him for weeks to let it heal, and even after that, there was concern about long-term weakness. If the werewolves hurt him badly enough to aggravate that area, the pain alone could be causing his body to shut down.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened. “He hasn’t said anything about nerve pain. But he wouldn’t.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Pomfrey agreed. “Which is why you need to check for signs he might not recognize—muscle tremors, weakness in his legs, tingling in his arms. If his movements seem off, don’t let him wave it away.”

Sirius nodded, committing her words to memory. “And the hip?”

“It sounds like Mrs. Potter handled that correctly, but be careful. If he insists on moving too much too soon, he’s at risk of re-dislocating it.” She gave him a pointed look. “Which he will do, because he’s Remus Lupin.”

Sirius huffed out a tired laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Pomfrey set down her teacup and studied him for a long moment. “You’re worried.”

Sirius scoffed. “Of course I am. He’s been out for two days, Poppy. And when he is awake, he’s…” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I just—I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. I know it’s normal for him, or it used to be, but something about it feels different now.”

Pomfrey’s expression softened. “It might be as simple as this, Sirius—he’s safe with you.”

Sirius looked up sharply.

Pomfrey continued, her voice gentle but certain. “You said it yourself—he hasn’t let himself be like this in years. But now he’s with someone who knows him better than anyone, someone he trusts to see him at his weakest. That’s a kind of healing, too.”

Sirius swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. He hadn’t considered that. Hadn’t even thought about what it meant that Remus was letting himself be vulnerable again.

“I suppose,” he said gruffly, taking a sip of his now-cooling tea.

Pomfrey reached across the table and squeezed his wrist. “You’re doing right by him, Sirius. You always have.”

Sirius looked down at her hand, then back up at her, something deep and unspoken passing between them. “Thanks, Poppy. For everything.”

She smiled. “Anytime.”

As they finished their tea, the weight of their conversation settled between them—not heavy, exactly, but significant. When Sirius stood to leave, Pomfrey handed him Remus’s records, her gaze serious.

“Take care of him.”

“I will,” Sirius promised, his voice steady. “I won’t let him down.”

And with that, he left, the folder clutched tightly in his hand and a renewed sense of purpose settling in his chest.

The dining hall at Broomhaven was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chatter, with students and professors mingling over trays of food. The air was thick with the scents of roasted meats, fresh bread, and the subtle hum of dozens of conversations happening all at once. James, Lily, Dorcas, and Mary had claimed a table by the window, where sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over their plates.

It was the first day back at university after everything that had happened with Remus—after he had shown up at the apartment injured, after they had all found out the truth about his condition, and after Dumbledore’s visit, with his invitation that felt more like a command to join the Order of the Phoenix. The headmaster’s words still hung heavily in the air between them.

“So, how is Remus doing now?” Dorcas asked, breaking the silence as she speared a piece of chicken with her fork.

Lily glanced at James, who was seated next to her, his hand resting lightly on the table beside his plate. She could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he were carrying an invisible burden.

“He’s… resting,” Lily replied, choosing her words carefully. “Sirius is looking after him.”

Dorcas nodded, but there was a furrow in her brow. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That Lupin is… well, that he’s a werewolf.”

Mary, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke up. “He doesn’t seem like the type, does he?” There was a note of disbelief in her voice, tinged with something else—maybe anger, maybe confusion. “I mean, it’s Remus. He’s always been so gentle, so… normal.”

James took a deep breath, his fingers curling slightly against the table. “It’s not something he wanted anyone to know,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Not even us, at first. He was afraid… afraid of what people would think, how they’d treat him.”

Mary looked down at her plate, her appetite suddenly waning. “I just… I don’t get how he hid it for so long. We were friends for years, and none of us had a clue.”

“It was difficult for him,” Lily said softly, placing her hand over James’s. “He didn’t want to lie, but he felt like he didn’t have a choice. The world’s not kind to people like him.”

Mary nodded slowly, absorbing Lily’s words. “That’s the part that gets me. He had to go through all that, alone, for so long. It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” James agreed, his voice firmer now. “But you have to understand—Remus isn’t dangerous. He’s still the same person he’s always been. He’s one of us.”

“Of course he is,” Mary said quickly, as if the thought of Remus being anything else was unthinkable. “But this is… it’s just so much to take in. How am I supposed to act around him now?”

“Like you always have,” Lily said firmly. “He doesn’t want anything to change between us. He needs us to be his friends, to support him.”

James shifted slightly in his seat, turning his head as if to gauge their reactions. “And you can’t tell anyone,” he added, his tone serious. “This has to stay between us. If it gets out…”

Mary nodded. “I won’t say anything. You have my word.”

“Mine too,” Dorcas echoed. “But… I have to ask, are you sure about Dumbledore? After what happened with Remus, I mean… it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

James tensed at her question, feeling the unease Dorcas had voiced earlier return. “What do you mean?”

Dorcas leaned forward, her expression troubled. “I just… I’m not convinced Dumbledore has our best interests at heart. He’s asking us to join this Order, to put our lives on the line, but look at what happened to Lupin. He was left to fend for himself after being promised a safety network. Who’s to say that won’t happen to us once we join? What if we’re just pawns in whatever game Dumbledore is playing?”

Lily frowned, the corners of her mouth pulling downward. “It’s a lot to think about,” she admitted. “But I don’t think Dumbledore is planning on ‘using’ us. I don’t think he intended to ‘use’ Remus. I think he genuinely believes in what he’s doing.”

“Sure. But does that mean we should still join?” Dorcas pressed. “We’ve got futures to plan for. Is it really the best idea to be getting involved in something so… dangerous, led by someone who seems to put ideals over individuals?”

Mary let out a sigh, pushing her plate away slightly. “Honestly, it’s too stressful to think about all of this on top of exams. Can we just… not talk about it right now?”

James could feel the tension in the air, the uncertainty that hung between them. He didn’t have the answers they needed, but he couldn’t ignore Dorcas’s concerns. He had seen Dumbledore’s determination, the way the man spoke of the Order as if it were the only hope they had. But was that enough? Was Dumbledore’s belief enough to justify the risks they were being asked to take?

He didn’t know, and that scared him more than anything.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice soft but resolute. “We’ll drop it for now. Let’s just focus on our studies, and we’ll figure the rest out later.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the tension slowly began to dissipate, but the unease lingered at the back of James’s mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Dorcas was right, that there were things they didn’t know—things that Dumbledore wasn’t telling them.

And as much as he wanted to believe in the cause, in the idea that they were fighting for something bigger than themselves, the thought of Remus, hurt and vulnerable, made him question whether the cost was too high.

For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside, trying to focus on the present. There would be time to worry about the future later, after everything with the Order is over. But as they moaned about exams and talked about their classes, James knew that the seeds of doubt had been planted, and that they would have to face them sooner or later.