Dusk of death
**JAMES**
James was strutting up the spiral staircase to their dormitory. Pete was trailing right behind him. It was almost time to go to the shack yet Sirius was nowhere to be seen. They opened the door only to find the dorm deserted.
The minutes passed by and still Sirius didn’t show up. “Should we go without him?” Peter asked, tugging nervously at a strand of sandy blond hair.
“Let’s wait a few more minutes” James stood up and joined in Peter’s pacing.
“I will not let Moony face it alone, if he doesn’t turn up soon, i’ll go without him” Peter stated, uncharacteristically determined.
“Of course mate, i’ll go with you” James agreed, a furrow in his brow.
He was beginning to feel a sense of foreboding. Sirius never missed a full moon, he was never even late and he was extremely time optimistic. He knew the importance of being on time for the moons.
They couldn’t do much for Remus even when they were there. He still got injured, the wolf attacked him the moment he wasn’t occupied and the transformations themselves wounded him. But he seemed more calm and content when they were with him. They had made a pact to never let him face it alone again. Sirius wouldn’t just ignore that.
Hurried footsteps echoed from the staircase behind the door. Finally James thought. Relief spreading through him only to be replaced by adrenaline when the door slammed open.
Sirius was a mess. He was shaking, his hair was rumpled and tears were streaming steadily down his blotchy cheeks.
“Sirius are you ok?!” James exclaimed as Peter asked “what happened?”.
Sirius bottom lip trembled. “I told Snape” he whispered, voice low and timid.
“You told him what?” James asked, bewildered.
“How to get past the willow” Sirius confessed and looked down, avoiding their furious stares.
Hot burning anger soared through him. He did what?! How could he? Why?!
“You what?!” Peter shouted. All his usual nervousness was gone.
James had never seen him that angry. Peter usually resorted to sadness or bitterness not pure, unadulterated fury.
“How- How could you?!” He yelled.
“Remus” James whispered, realising. Peter’s face paled as he too understood the consequences of Sirius actions.
Before anyone could say another word he was running, sprinting through the door and down the stairs. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, his heart thudding hard in his chest. No was all he could think, no.
Despite his jogging rounds every morning for the the past 2 years his legs were burning, a stitch in his side. He was sprinting as fast as he could. The grass beneath him made his footing wobbly.
The moment he was inside the tunnel he could hear raised voices.
“Please just go” Remus begged, a muffled scream escaping him.
“What is this? Did they actually let in a psycho?” Snape hissed and laughed.
“You will just get hurt” Remus pleaded, desperation filling his weak voice.
“Oh no i don’t think so” Snape chuckled darkly.
James was running the fastest he could but the tunnel was too long.
Remus screams were echoing through the tunnel. Shrieks of earsplitting agony making something painful twist in James stomach. Knives were poking at him through his ribs, his breathing was quick and laboured.
The sounds of bones breaking and twisting filled the air. Dread was creeping up his spine.
The screams were becoming more like growls. Snape was no longer laughing.
Then the screaming stopped and James knew it was over. He kept running, there was only a little bit left.
A new scream filled the air but it wasn’t Moony that was screaming, it was Snape.
He turned the corner and entered the room.
The chestnut brown wolf with streaks of grey and burning amber eyes was biting down on Snapes leg.
It tore of, blood spilling onto the dusty hardwood floor. The blood made a dark puddle beneath him. Moony bit down on his stomach, the skin and fabric ripping off. He tore off the flesh with his sharp canines.
Moony retreated a few steps, chewing and growling happily.
James leaped and grabbed the arm of the unconcious Snape. He hauled him onto his back and ran. His blood was dripping from him, seeping onto James trousers. Snape's body was cold against his.
A furious roar sounded behind them and powerful strides were coming towards them.
He was almost at the end when sharp claws reached his side, digging into his flesh. A moan of agony was ripped from him. Instinctively, he reached for his wand and cast lacero.
A huge gash spread on his face, blood dripping down his bared teeth.
Moony leaped backwards but bounded back quickly. James really didn’t wan’t to hurt him but he had too. “Confringo” he rasped and Moony was thrown backwards, his spine hitting the ceiling causing a loud crack of bones.
He managed to haul himself and Snape out. Terrible agonised growls could be heard on the other side.
He panted as he lay face first on the grass, it tickled his face.
James heaved Snape off him. His face was deathly pale, his eyes closed.
Dizziness was making his head spin as he forced himself up, hauling Snape on top of him again. He needed aid. “Help” he tried to yell but only a pathetic wheezing escaped him.
Clumsy hurried pacing could be heard and hard panting. Peter was coming towards him. He ran but fell and then heaved himself up before moving unsteadily towards them. His left eye was sporting a dark purple bruise, blood was dripping from his nose.
Madam Pomfrey was trailing in her sleeping wear just in-front of him. Her presence calmed James beating heart slightly as exhaustion settled far into his being. All he wanted to do was lay down on the ground and fall asleep.
Madam Pomfreys steps quickened and she reached them in jiffy.
She pressed two fingers to Snape's neck and he saw her face fall, horror gripping her otherwise calm features.
“Renervate” she tried but nothing happened.
She put him down on the ground and started doing compressions yet nothing happened. Oh no was all James could think.
Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher and lifted Snapes prone body onto it. Her face was somber, mouth a grim, tight line.
“Is he… is he going to be okay?” Peter asked in a twitchy manner.
“He is beyond saving” she declared soberly.
Ice cold dread filled him. He couldn’t say he had ever liked Snape, he had as a matter of fact despised him. Snape being dead didn’t exactly bother him but the consequences for the person who killed him bothered him very very much. The aftermath of Remus murdering Snape would most likely be severe. Not even to mention how he would feel.
James knew exactly who to blame, Sirius. Remus didn’t have a choice. Sirius did and he chose to betray him, betray them. They had all sworn to stick by him, through the difficulties.
They had worked so hard for years to gain his trust. Everytime something rough had happened he had shut down, ignoring everyone and becoming a hollow shell of a person. He had become better and stopped shutting them out so much but he still did, a bit. It was like it was hardwired into his brain, to trust no one, to shut them out.
And none of those times had been as bad as what was going on at that moment.
He ached with regrets as he remembered casting lacero on Remus, he never did wan’t to hurt him but it was the first thing that came to mind.
Still his conscience gnawed at him. James knew that Remus would not get angry at him, he would most likely retrieve in self hatred.
He followed Madam Pomfreys somber pace back up to the castle, Peter trailing behind nervously.
A heavy stone had sunk to the pit of his stomach.
What if i had come earlier? If i’d been quicker, could i have saved him? The anxiety ate away at his wretched guts. Is there something i could have done to stop this? The guilt creeped like a cobra up his spine.
Logically he knew that he had run the fastest he could, done all he could, that if anyone, Sirius was to blame. Still he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the evenings event settle on his shoulders. As heavy as the whole wide world.
Sirius was sitting in a chair still shaking like an aspen leaf. In normal circumstances he would have felt sympathy, compassion for the broken boy. He would have worried even, adopting his troubles as his own.
Now all he could manage was a desire to thump him. Sirius wasn’t the one hurt, he was the cause of the entire mess. Remus was the one who’d wake up, in unbelievable agony. Snape was dead, James was the one with blood slick against his skin.
Sirius didn’t deserve to act like the victim, like everything just happened and he was an innocent bystander. He was the source of the hell that had went down and what was sure to come.
**PETER**
All of them had turned somber. Sirius face paled as his eyes widened, taking in the damage of his actions. His dark blue, grey eyes shone bright with unshed tears.
Frustration welled up in him. Sirius was the reason they were all suffering and there was so much more agony in store.
Peter had in a moment of horror swung for Sirius. He had never punched anyone in his life and the motion was sloppy. But his anger managed to give enough force to give some damage. Sirius reacted instinctively, shaking with adrenaline and punched him in the face. The crunch of breaking bone was heard in the room, warm blood dripping down his face.
He really wished Remus hadn’t taught Sirius how to throw a proper punch.
They had all been sitting in the common room. Peter had been immersed in a game of chess with Marlene, Remus had been reading, James and Sirius had been talking. Sirius being Sirius had eventually got bored of course. Picking up a conversation he had evidently left off, he tried to convince Remus to teach him to throw a punch.
Remus had rolled his eyes but dropped his book. He had grown up in a children’s home and had obviously had a rough time of it. When he came into their train compartment every year he usually sported a grim look indeed, bruises covering his face, sometimes a black eye or other.
Remus had performed a softening charm on the wall and then punched it, the energy going through him, from his hip through his arm.
He had adjusted Sirius several times and tutted when he saw his formed fist, clutching his thumb. “You’re going to break your thumb if you do that” he had commented.
It hurt remembering Peter thought. That cozy day, the blazing fire. It was a late evening and most of them were growing sleepy. It had happened the previous winter, before everything went down with Sirius family.
Peter and James sat down in chairs beside Sirius’s. It felt weird, not being in the shack as usual, but instead staring at the empty hospital bed, drawing in their eyes like the dead still body in the bed next to it.
Poor Moony he thought. He had already suffered too much. When James drifted away from his grasp, growing closer with Sirius instead, Remus was there. They were the more quiet ones, the secondary marauders.
James was kind but he was never his first priority. Not even second or third. Growing up James had been his hero, his best friend, they had played quidditch nearly every day. But when they started at Hogwarts he had dropped down on the list. Sinking in value as better options came along.
Sirius came first of course. Peter tried and failed not to be bitter about that, yet he had always treated Sirius as well as the others.
Then Remus of course. James slowly seemed to gain Remus’s approval and trust as time passed.
After that Lily came along and sweeped him clean of his feet. He always made a prat of himself whenever she was around. Even a girl he barely knew, that openly despised him even, preceded him.
Everyone seemed to come over him. Even Marlene that was beater on the Gryffindor quidditch team came over him.
Although James was going, leaving him behind, he gained Remus. Sirius often made petty taunts at his expense but Remus never did. He never patronized him despite his mistakes. When he failed to grasp a new spell, they studied together, Remus explaining the technique. He had always managed everything brilliantly, magic coming as naturally as breathing. Not James nor Sirius possessed Remus intense magical skill. The very air around him buzzed with strange power.
Remus had always been there for him even as James slipped away. As Sirius made jabs at his poor magical skills. Remus pointed out the things he actually was good at. Herbology, astronomy, care of magical creatures and potions were his best subjects. Remus saw that and made him actually feel good at something.
A small smile would cross his face, the scars stretching, when he answered a question correctly in class. James didn’t pay enough attention to him to notice.
Their Moony, their sweet, rough but gentle Moony didn’t deserve to suffer. It filled him with a hollow ache, thinking of the limp form of Remus, his face pale and won, tremors rocking his body, the scars standing more pronounced against the greenish tint of his skin. He always looked so weak right after the moon, his bones more pronounced, a sheen of sweat covering him.
Peter didn’t know if it was worse when he was unconscious or when he woke up. When he woke up his eyelids always twitched first and he grimaced, as if fighting to gain consciousness. His eyes would skate around the room and then close before opening again. He always attempted a smile and it always managed to make him look deranged. Manic even, in his sickly state, pain tensing his features at every motion, his jaw clenched. “Good morning” he always rasped then coughed, his voice strained from howling all night long.
It hurt, seeing his usually poised exterior crack, showing a broken spirit. The life in him sucked away, leaving him broken and cracked open, red raw. There was usually blood, coming from somewhere on him.
He still got hurt, the wolf clawing at him whenever he wasn’t occupied, the transformations still took it’s toll. But he appreciated their presence, Peter didn’t even wan’t to imagine him waking up even more wounded then when they had seen him. Peter would never let him face it alone ever again.
His eyes skated over Snapes pale form. His leg was missing, only a bloody stump remaining. A huge gash over his stomach, the sheets turning a deep red, even though his heart had stopped beating. His eyes were halfway closed, staring blankly at nothing, unseeing.
“Are you happy now?!” He hissed at Sirius who was sitting, mute, beside him. Sirius flinched but he couldn’t care any less. Anger was bubbling up to the surface. He had taunted him for years and Peter had never managed to really like him. They had their moments and they had been growing closer of late but that was gone in an instant. He betrayed them, betrayed Remus. No matter his opinion of Sirius he had never thought he’d steep so low.
Sirius remained silent, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Madam Pomfrey appeared with two healing draughts from her office. She handed one to James and to Peter’s astonishment one to him. “But why?” He asked. “This will help your nose” she gestured at his broken nose. “Thanks” he mumbled, looking down.
He gulped it down, the sticky residue coating his tongue. His face almost immediately felt better.
They sat in tensed silence for hours, the clock ticking unbearably slowly. He resorted to counting of the seconds. Sirius stopped crying, just hugged himself tightly. All he wanted was to wake up and realise it had all been a dream, that there wasn’t worse to come still.
**POPPY**
The sun was rising and Poppy Pomfrey rose from her seat beside the dead boys bed. All was going so horribly wrong. Poor Remus, poor boy she thought.
The meeting with Dumbledore had at least been quick, he had worn the same patient calm expression, not expressing even a flicker of concern though he smiled a grim smile.
She cast one last mournful look at the dead child, his greasy black hair surrounding his pale yellowish face. His nose like a bird beacon, eyes black and glassy.
She treaded down to the whomping willow, swallowing the lump growing in her throat. Remus was sure to be in a state, wounded badly.
Poppy had known Remus since he was only eleven meagre years. Eleven meagre years of suffering alone. He had even then offered her the same brave smile he always sported without fail.
Her steps echoed in the low tunnel. The place now reeked of death, the iron metallic smell of blood. She couldn’t smell it in smaller quantities but she certainly could now.
Remus was a tangled mess of limbs in a corner. She could immediately see his dislocated joints, both shoulders and knees pointing in ominous directions. A human bloody bone, with some remaints of flesh lay a few feet away. The image made her stomach churn.
Another gash was slashed against his face, blood trickling down his already scarred skin. He had several deep bite and claw marks. One was very deep on his stomach, showing the bone of his ribs, it slashed down the entirety of his upper body in three vicious stripes. All blood drained from his face. He was still breathing but it was laboured, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Broken ribs she concluded.
His left leg was twisted all wrong. This had happened only four times previously. She had a theory but no solid proof. Poppy thought the reason for the awful transformations back must be that the wolf was somehow resistant to turn back, either feeling too strong emotions or Remus simply didn’t wan’t to wake up. She had evidence for both but her heart shattered as she considered the last option.
Remus had always been a bit rough around the edges but sweet. A timid little thing he had been at first, he hadn’t been unpleasant, just distant. He had always avoided her gaze except for when he gave a stoic smile before she left every moon.
His transformations only grew worse as he got older. At the beginning of his second year when he got back he had bruises all over. He tried to hide it, covering his hands in his sleeves, dragging up the collar of his school jumper but he couldn’t hide them entirely. Remus had been rough to some kids that had been mean to him. She knew because she had treated the various injuries, she had been silently surprised that the shy little boy was also angry and rough.
The timid boy was hidden away as he had entered his second year, he was all claws and anger.
She had of course read up about his living conditions and was appalled. He had been locked up in a silver cage, and beaten with a cane in case of any disobedience. She had never believed in causing physical harm to a child.
The first moon back, things went bad. When she found him he was rapidly bleeding to death. His limbs had been twisted oddly then too, his bones poking out in odd places. There was a deep wound over his torso. She began to compress the leg when he whispered, so weakly “please”. She had continued working with renewed fervour. “Let me die” he had begged, his pale lip’s quivering, and something had permanently broken in her heart. He didn’t cry only looked so defeated, so sad. “Don’t want” he murmured. “No more”.
Something told her that it wasn’t the pain that made him say that. He had always been a bit gloomier than his peers, and with good reason.
She thought of trying to repair the damage at the spot but thought that it was a stupid idea. Poppy only had her wand, no potions. She needed to get him back and the filthy atmosphere of the shack was not the ideal location to provide sterile treatment.
His body flew lightly on top of the conjured stretcher with an elegant flick of her wand.
**SIRIUS**
Guilt was soaring through him. Snape was dead, all because of him. He couldn’t pretend he grieved the greasy haired boy. But he had killed him, no, Remus killed him, without his will or control.
Remus that had flinched, his eyes going wide with panic the first time he had woken up with rabbit blood coating his tongue. He had found it funny, endearing even at the time. Now it made him sick, if Remus felt bad about killing a rabbit, how would he feel about a human?
When doing his werewolf research to come up with any kind of solution he had found a history of horrors. The worst part was almost that he knew that Remus had read them. He had seen him reading them, a look of concentration and faint terror as he swallowed nervously. Remus had read all books about werewolves the library had to offer in their second year after Sirius had managed to create a spell for his reading issues. The marauders had soon figured out his furry little problem or Sirius had figured it out a long time before that actually.
The books were filled with pictures of werewolf transformations and executed werewolves. There were even detailed accounts of how to kill a werewolf. One thing that Sirius thought of every transformation was a quote from a werewolf that had been interviewed before execution. She had suffered the cruciatus curse. She had described it as the closest thing to the transformations she had ever experienced only a bit better.
Sirius own parents had used the cruciatus curse on him, he thought he knew the highest point of agony, to know that Remus suffered a fate worse than that every month…
It killed him inside. To watch that boy rip himself apart, shrieks tearing from the depth of his very core.
Now he had hurt him even more. All for some sick revenge. Snape had insulted them all. But he went on and on about Remus after finishing the tale of the disowned, disgraceful black heir.
“Oh and that loony little freak you always take with you. Your pet project is he? That psycho should be locked up. He is crazy, one minute a goody goody swot and the next a vicious monster, either way, he lacks any real claws ” he had leered among other things.
The rage had bubbled up in the pit of his stomach, through his throat and into his mouth, forming words. Oh and we don’t have claws have we? He had thought.
Now Madam Pomfrey was reentering the tense environment of the hospital wing. James was still panting, a hand clutched to the bleeding wound on his side. Peter was rubbing the bruise on his eye, the one Sirius gave him.
Behind her trailed a strecher, carrying the unconscious form of Remus. He truly looked awful, a piece of jagged bone sticking out, blood everywhere, his limbs a twisted mess.
All my fault he thought over and over and something painful clenched right down in his guts.
Sirius knew that Remus usually didn’t look too good after a moon but he had never seen him look so awful. He wasn’t even concious, he was always concious by now.
James, evidently thinking in the same tracks, frowned harder.
“He is always awake by now” he breathed. Madam Pomfrey looked confused for a moment, her eyebrows pulling together before she shook her head, seemingly coming to some internal conclusion.
Peter gasped audibly as he saw Remus sickly state, James winced.
Madam Pomfrey made him float carefully down on the hospital bed.
She immediately begun working, grabbing a jar of some sea green salve and started applying it to the exposed bone. The crack that was spreading down it healed but the end didn’t reappear. She took forth a bottle of skelegrow and placed it on the bedside table beside him. She swiftly mended the broken bones, crack after crack sounding in the, except for them, empty hospital wing. Sirius lost count after 14. As she rectified his dislocated joints the hitch in his breath became even more pronounced.
She sighed heavily and sat beside him, gently pulling a strand of chestnut brown hair behind a scarred ear. The gesture was affectionate, oddly maternal. Not that Sirius had much experience with maternal affection.
“Why isn’t he awake yet?” Peter asked.
Madam Pomfrey sighed sadly.
“Not much research has been done on lycanthropy. It is believed though that it is more difficult to wake up when one simply dosn’t wan’t to wake up. Or when the wolf experienced strong emotions. It can’t be his injuries keeping him asleep, that has never kept him asleep before. He used to sleep longer before this year. Apparently it feels like being under water, only being able to reach the surface if you fight for it. It is heavier than normal sleep. The transformations back have gone badly before, but that seems to happen when the wolf dosn’t wan’t to leave and fights it.” She explained. She seemed to be talking more to herself, thinking out load at the end of her speech.
Did Remus not want to wake up before that year? Did he wish to sink deeper beneath the surface, to never wake up but hit the bottom of the ocean. He wondered if he wanted to be lost like the city of Atlantis, lost like the hope he no longer carried in his heart.
Sirius didn’t know if it was more sad that an 11 year old Remus didn’t want to wake up or that the current day, 15 year old Remus didn’t want to wake up.
They sat in silence, just watching Remus bloody figure, despite Madam Pomfreys many spells, the blood kept pouring out of him, leaking through the bandages.
Sick, aching, hollow yet all consuming guilt drenched him. Remus would never forgive him, he would lose him. Their friendship had been strained for some time but Sirius still couldn’t lose him.
Remus had kissed him, grabbed the back of his neck, brought their lips together and stolen his ability to breathe.
He could still remember how close they had been. It had happened on a narrow step on the spiral staircase leading up to their dormitory.
Another of the marauders party’s was roaring on the other side of the door. They were both tipsy, having had a few drinks, Remus more than a few.
He could remember it like yesterday at the same time as it felt like a lifetime ago. They hadn’t talked about it, they had tried to act normal but every interaction had been strained. Sirius couldn’t help but yearn for it to happen again.
Now it never would, all was lost, their friendship and whatever else they could have been. All gone with one sentence. One sentence and the end of lives, the end of friendships. The end of the most important thing in his life.
His Moony, the satellite to keep him tethered to the ground beneath. The one that kept him from getting lost in space like all the other stars. The sun warmed his heart but the moon always knew the depth of his mind, the secrets hanging steady to his spirit. He always knew, saw him, like no one else had.
All gone with one sentence.
“If your so desperate for answers, press the knot on the whomping willow and you’ll know”.
The greatest mistake of his life.