History's Footnote

We live for just these twenty years

Do we have to die for the fifty more?

When Harry woke up, the large, black dog was waiting at the foot of his bed. He tried to sit up, and found he couldn’t. The dog yelped at him, and licked his arm. The noise brought others into the room, and he found himself surrounded by the worried faces of Ron, Hermione and Lupin. He wanted to speak, but as he reached out to touch Sirius’s fur, he lost consciousness.  

He was vaguely aware of raised voices. He thought it might have been Lupin and Dumbledore. Something about the Dursleys. No. He wanted to shout, he wouldn’t go back there… he couldn’t… but the darkness reached for him once again. 

The next time he woke up, the voices felt louder, and he was able to make some sense of the conversation. 

Remus noticed he was awake, and gave him a thin smile. It was the best he could manage right now. He was trying to shrink into the shadows somewhat, as the Minister of Magic had just stormed into the room, and Remus, strictly speaking, wasn’t meant to be on school grounds. Thankfully, Fudge’s entire attention was being taken up by an extremely angry Professor McGonagall. 

“You utter BERK!” She yelled. “I told you Dumbledore wouldn’t allow them on school property, and now look what you’ve done!”

“Now look here,” Fudge countered. “Those Dementors happen to be my security. From what I’ve heard, Barty Crouch Junior would have been subjected to the kiss anyway. It’s saved us all some time.”

Sirius bristled from the edge of Harry’s bed as they all began to piece together what had happened.

“Your attempt to save time by skipping a fair trial has cost us a valuable testimony” Dumbledore’s voice rang out. “There are aspects of tonight even I don’t understand, and it appears you understand nothing at all.”

What followed from Fudge’s blusterings made it clear that he either didn’t believe their tale, or at least, he didn’t want to. Harry sprang up, shouting at the Minister “Look, I saw Voldemort come back!”

A stunned silence followed. Madame Pomfrey had clapped a hand over her mouth. Fudge looked nonplussed, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to start giving Fudge orders for what to do. From where Remus stood, it was clear that this wasn’t going down well. Dumbledore’s suggestions involved removing the Dementors from Azkaban, before they defected, and sending an envoy to the giants, whose allegiance was as of yet undecided.

Just when Remus thought he couldn’t be surprised by anything else that day, Snape of all people waded into the confrontation, displaying his Dark Mark, right on his forearm, vibrant as the day it was created. 

Remus felt winded. Snape had been a bully from the day they met, but his journey from eleven year old boy to Death Eater still stupefied him. It was certainly the last straw for Fudge, who stormed out, dumping Harry’s Tournament winnings unceremoniously on the table with a muted ‘congratulations’, to which Harry did not respond.

Dumbledore didn’t even blink at this failure of negotiations, and Remus suspected he’d already made up his mind to do this without Fudge. Dumbledore swirled about the room, treating each character like a toy he had merely to wind up at the back, and set off in a direction of his choosing.

His next plan seemed to be revealing Sirius’s identity to the room. He felt no need to check with Sirius first. Unperturbed, he requested that Sirius and Snape put their past behind them and join forces. Well, he was going to experience difficulty in getting Sirius to play along with that one. The two men were looking at each other as though they wished to commit murder, and Remus realised Dumbledore must never have filled Snape in on the events of last Summer. 

After a tense few moments, the two had been convinced to shake hands. Sirius tilted Snape’s arm slightly as he did so, purposefully revealing his Dark Mark once more. He looked him in the eye as he pulled away, his expression clear. I won’t forget what you are. 

Dumbledore glided over this moment, too. “Remus, I need you to rally all the old troops - Sirius… lie low at Lupin’s.”

Sirius nodded, and went over to Harry’s bed. “I’ll see you again soon, Harry. I promise. But we’ve got to do this - you understand, don’t you?”

Harry’s expression remained controlled as he nodded, briefly. Sirius transformed once more into a dog, and they left him in the safe hands of his friends, Ron and Hermione. 

Outside in the corridor, Remus rounded on Dumbledore. He knew he was adamant that Harry should return to the Dursleys’, but he had to give it one last try.

“Albus, you don’t understand what it’s like to come from a home like Harry’s - they’re bad people. Don’t you think the boy is traumatised enough? He’s just witnessed his friend die, right in front of him, at the hands of the same person who killed James and Lily!”

“I’m doing this to protect him from meeting the same fate!” It was rare for Dumbleore to raise his voice, but he came close to it now. “However lovely your home is, my priority is for Harry to stay alive.”

“He’s been safe these past two Summers at mine -”

“Things are different now. I took risks with his safety that none of us can afford to continue making.”

Remus strode right up to Dumbledore, inches from his face. They stood eye to eye. “If you send him back to that abusive home, where no one understands what he’s going through or will support him, something bad -” he emphasised each word “- is going to happen.”

Unable to risk transforming, Sirius contented himself by growling at Dumbledore. 

“My decision is final. You can see him in a few weeks.”

Remus looked down the hall towards Harry, who was deep in conversation with his friends. The hospital wing was striped with afternoon sun. Dumbledore strode past him and closed the door, blocking out all the light with it. 

He knew he’d lost this battle, and that he had to leave Harry behind. But he’d be back for him.

And so it was that after months on the run, Sirius and Remus ended up right where they’d started, crossing the threshold of their home. 

Remus looked around at the flat. At Sirius. He felt like he’d been transported back 15 years, to the middle of the war. The first war, he supposed it should be called now. Then he noticed some of Harry’s school work scattered messily across the table. His knees buckled, and he wept openly on his living room floor. Sirius crouched next to him and held him, rocking him like a child, until eventually sleep claimed them both. When Remus woke up, Sirius was watching him. He took his hand, and tucked his head into the crook of Remus’s neck. They had work to do.

*

As the news spread across their network, Eloise called an emergency Unicorn meeting. It broke Remus to leave Sirius behind, but even with the Ministry’s focus elsewhere, it was too great a risk to bring him. He entered the shop, alone, and was greeted by the anxious faces of Kitty and Tarun. More people for whom it was unbelievably cruel to put through all this again. Remus was surprised by the volume of people that were there, many of them he recognised as his old students. He nodded at Hagrid, stood in the corner arm in arm with a very tall woman who Remus figured must be Madam Maxine. He let Eloise take the meeting as she’d been filled in by Dumbledore and was a much better speaker than Remus. As she recounted the details of the previous night’s events, Remus felt numb. 

“Dumbledore’s calling for an alliance between wizards and giants, which we’ve been working on -”

“For years.” Remus found himself calling out, his voice full of an anger he hadn’t fully realised he was carrying. “It’s always the same with wizards, creating problems and refusing to solve them until they need something. The Unicorn has been campaigning for the removal of Dementors for years, but apparently mere morals don’t cut it as a reason. As for the support of giants, well, look at how the media’s treated Hagrid. There’s no good reason for giants to support wizards. I certainly wouldn’t advise them to, for Voldemort or for us.”

Eloise jumped at the name, but persevered. Remus knew he was being a dick, and that what he was saying wasn’t helpful, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“You’re right and it’s fucked. It is.” She replied. “But this is what we wanted right? For the giants? Whatever the reasons, this could be an opportunity to promote better relations.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, anxieties high. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through, silencing everyone. “We all stand to lose if we allow Voldemort to return to power. His regime is for the pure-blooded wizards, and anyone else he’ll just use and discard. This is a fight we all need to fight, not for the wizards, but for ourselves.” The room broke into applause, and despite everything, Remus couldn’t help smiling. Rowan was back. 

*

Sirius was pacing the flat when he heard the lock unclick. He rushed over, and was taken aback by an unexpected sound - laughter. He heard voices, not just Remus’s, but a woman’s - Eloise? There was another man too, unfamiliar to him. Instinctively, he drew back into the kitchen as they entered. Remus caught his eye, and Sirius thought he looked guilty for a moment. Then it was replaced by a smile, and he took his arm, drawing him out into the group.

“Pads, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

So this was the famous Rowan. Sirius eyed him warily, but shook his hand and forced himself to smile. He was taller than Sirius, and stronger, and tanned where Sirius was pale. Sirius noticed some scarring on his hands, less than what Remus had, but still matching. Rowan was looking shrewdly back at him, and Sirius wondered what assumptions he was making himself. 

“So, catch us up then,” Eloise interrupted.

Remus frowned. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what was coming. But Rowan had a habit of proving him wrong.

“My progress has been good,” he began, “at least until now. Without the influence of Greyback or Voldemort, the wolf pack has been largely able to thrive without negative interference. A couple of us have been able to access Wolfsbane consistently, and we’re able to keep an eye on things on full moons. The rest of the month is peaceful, we’re basically just a hippie kind of commune.”

“A far cry from your corporate days then” Remus responded, and Rowan grinned.

“You could say that.”

Remarkably, Rowan seemed largely unchanged by his time among the wolves. He was more tanned than before, and it suited him. 

There was a knock at the door. It was Tonks, and she had news from Dumbledore.

“He’s restarting the Order.” She explained, “and he wants you to be involved. We’re figuring out a meeting place, at the moment there’s not really anywhere secure enough…”

Remus had been waiting for her to draw breath to decline the request, but Sirius interrupted her before he could. “You can use my house.” He said.

“Your - I’m sorry, what?” Tonks stopped short. “You’ve had a house? This whole time? But then… why have you been living in a cave?”

“Because it’s like a prison to me.” He replied, bitterly. “It was my mother’s. It still holds… a lot of memories. But it’s secure, and it’s large. It’ll work. You can tell Dumbledore… and maybe he’ll let Harry come, and stay there. Sometime soon?” 

There was an awkward pause, and Sirius stood up gruffly. “I’ll get us drinks.” He excused himself.

Remus went to follow, but Rowan got there first. “I’ll help.” He said, flashing Remus a grin. This annoyed Sirius, but he couldn’t say anything. Defeated, he stomped into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky. He opened his mouth to direct Rowan to the glasses, but he was already at the right cupboard, pulling them out. It disconcerted Sirius that he knew where to look. 

“So,” said Rowan, leaning nonchalantly against the counter. “You’re Sirius.”

Sirius shrugged.

“Look. I’m sorry to barge into your life like this… I hope it’s ok.” 

Sirius considered him for a moment. Was that a drop of bashfulness he detected under all the forced charm? Rowan reached to get another glass for Sirius, and as he stretched upwards Sirius noticed a fresh wound peaking out on his abdomen. 

“That looks painful.” He accepted his glass with a nod. “We’ve got some essence of Murtlap if you want?”

“It’s nothing…” Rowan began.

“Yeah, Remus has tried that line with me too many times for it to be convincing. Sit down and take your shirt off.”

“Yes sir!” Rowan joked. “I see why he likes you.”

In any other context, Sirius would have welcomed a half naked, muscular man into his kitchen. Now, though, he was only concerned by the wound. At first, he thought it was just a scratch, but it extended right up into his collarbone, and was criss-crossed with a myriad of others.

“So… a hippie commune you say?”

Rowan grimaced as Sirius started applying the salve.

“Oh- that actually feels better. Usually it stings?”

“I made some amendments to the formula.” Sirius said without looking up. “How did this happen? It looks like an attack.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Rowan brushed it off. “I just didn’t want to worry him.”

Sirius nodded, and didn’t ask further questions. Rowan was just getting his shirt back on when Remus appeared in the doorway. 

“What’s going on here then?” He raised an eyebrow sceptically. 

Rowan noticed how Sirius went to him immediately, as though magnetised. “Just having a little chat.” He said.

“Right, not being funny, but where are our drinks?” Eloise appeared at the door too.

“Oh, Sirius! I nearly forgot - I’ve got a present for you.” Tonks followed her through, so they were all crowded in the kitchen. 

She tossed Sirius a long, thin object, throwing it clumsily to the left. “Oops, sorry mate!” She called, but it didn’t matter. Sirius had caught it reflexively, and was staring at it in wonder.

“My wand!” He exclaimed. “How did you -?”

“Ministry keeps ‘em - all the prisoners' wands. Dunno why, they’re not well guarded though.” She grinned. “I transfigured a stick in place of yours. Thought it was time you had it back.”

“You really are your mother’s daughter” said Sirius, and enveloped her in a hug. Remus watched Tonks as her eyes widened, and she mouthed ‘oh my god’ to Eloise, who gave her a covert thumbs up. 

“Right! Drinks!” Exclaimed Sirius jubilantly, levitating all the glasses and the Firewhisky at the same time. He spilled more than he caught, but his failure only seemed to make him happier. “Let’s raise a toast!”

“To what?” Asked Remus, lowering the room temperature several degrees. He regretted it instantly.

“To fleeting moments,” supplied Rowan. “That remind us why we fight.”

Sirius took Remus’s hand, and raised his glass. The man was good, he’d give him that.