Fourth Note
Another note appeared on Thursday, this time in James' desk.
I remember all the fun times we've had, the times made sour by what I've done later in life. I've fractured our bond, a bond that should have lasted a lifetime. I remember the time when I was sick as a dog, to use the turn of the phrase. You were there for me, and how did I repay you? I am a false friend, nothing more. I should have remembered that you'd help me out if I had just confessed, and I know now that you would if you knew who I am. Which is why you must never find out, and you will not find out, so don't try. The important thing is that I know, and that I should have remembered that. Maybe then I wouldn't have done what I did. It's too late now, and the only way to prevent it is by dying. Once I am gone, don't let my death bring you down. Continue without me, as it should be. Your spirits need to keep on burning bright, for everyone's sake.
There was no signature this time either.
"Who do you think wrote this?" Sirius asks.
"It would have to be someone like me," Remus says. "Someone who cherishes their friends so much they are willing to die for their friends."
"Remus is right," James says. "That's the general vibe I see in this letter a well."
"What do you think, Peter?"
"I think that we should leave this well enough alone," Peter says, lifting his head up to look at them. "It's clear from their words that they don't want anyone to meddle, so we shouldn't meddle."
"So...we...we should just let someone die?"
"Yes, if that's their wish. Now I still have homework to do."
No one said anything afterwards. No one needed to say anything.
-x-
Sirius suspected, he knew from the look he gave him. Sirius was the one who figured things out. It was he who figured the werewolf thing out, and he could figure this out as well. He at least suspected, and that wouldn't do. He set up a meeting with Snape that very day.
"Sirius suspects," he says as soon as Snape arrives. "We need to deal with that."
"I could obliviate him," Snape offers.
"That could remove other memories as well," he says. "We'll only use that as a last resort."
"Then you'll have to find a way to settle this on your own," Snape says. "If I meddle in your affairs too much, that would raise suspicion as well."
"I know," he says with a small sigh.
They part ways, and he returns to his dorm, looking sullen. Fortunately, his dormmates are elsewhere. Probably planning another prank, he thinks. A chuckle escapes his mouth. He had a chance now. A chance to relive those happy days, and then die before he can destroy everything again.
He waits until his dormmates - he doesn't deserve to call them friends - are asleep, and then he brings his blade out. He cuts his wrists, methodically, and then he heals himself, as he always does. Pain helps him focus once again, and he affirms what he already knows. There is no other way.