Chapter Thirty
“SIRIUS ORION BLAAAAACK”
Sirius startled from where he’d been resting on a chair with a book. His stomach was in his feet, he knew that full name meant family. But who?
The yelling was coming from the guest room his uncle used to stay in, before he was blasted off the wall. No use thinking about it, he shook himself. Harry’s room. It was coming from Harry’s room. He skidded into the hallway, and was greeted by a sneer from Phineas Nigellus Black. No - just a portrait. That was all. A portrait linked to one in Hogwarts, Dumbledore had said he might use it for emergencies. Why was he being so slow today?
“Took your time, didn’t you?” Phineas seemed to echo his thoughts.
“What do you want?” Snarled Sirius.
Phineas took his time anyway, drawing himself up to his full height so as to look down on Sirius. “Professor Dumbledore has tasked me with letting you know that there are students on their way to yours. And that Arthur Weasley has been attacked.”
“What?” Sirius’ mind took him back to the image of Arthur’s lifeless body on the floor. It had just been a Boggart - but that was then. He swallowed. “Is - is he ok?”
But Phineas, having considered his duty complete, had already sidled out of the frame.
Before Sirius had time to process anything, a large, silvery wolf bounded in through the window. Remus’s patronus; it matched Sirius’s own, and its warmth was soothing.
“I’m safe, Arthur’s on his way to St. Mungos. Molly’s following behind. In case no one’s filled you in properly - there was a snake that attacked him while he was on guard. Harry had a vision and reported it to Dumbledore, it - well, it saved his life. Harry’s on his way to yours, with the Weasley children. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Everything’s going to be ok - look after Harry. I love you.”
The Patronus vanished, and Sirius felt cold. It was happening again, all of it.
How had Voldemort known where to send the snake? Was he targeting Order Members, or was he making a move on the prophecy? Noises downstairs signalled the kids arriving, and Sirius did his best to push all his emotions behind a mask, and play the role of the adult they needed. They all looked so vulnerable, still in their pyjamas, and he wished he had better news for them all. As he welcomed them in and got them all drinks, he could see Harry taking in the state of the house, and suddenly felt self conscious about his own appearance, about the dirty plates and the empty bottles.
“Look… let’s all turn in. Everything will be better in the morning.” He hated the way the words felt in his mouth, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Silently, they all trudged up to bed.
Molly arrived early the next morning, looking exhausted but relieved. “He’s going to live!” Was the first thing she said.
The family all crowded each other in hugs; hugs which included Harry. Suddenly overwhelmed, Sirius retreated to make breakfast for everyone. The family dynamic wasn’t something he really ‘got’, and he didn’t know how to be around it. Inexplicably, Harry followed him through. He wondered if perhaps Harry also felt uneasy at the performance of family love. Selfishly, the thought gave him a small thrill, which instantly threw him back into feelings of guilt.
“Sirius…” Harry wasn't meeting his eye. “Can I talk to you - about what I saw?”
“Harry-” Sirius’s words caught in his throat. He was ashamed of how he’d spoken to Harry before, of how he was failing him as a godfather. “Of course you can talk to me.”
“It’s - well, everyone’s saying I’m a hero.”
“You are, Harry! If you hadn’t seen the snake -”
“That’s the thing!” Harry interrupted. “I didn’t just see it - I was the snake! And I didn’t want to save Mr Weasley… I wanted to hurt him.”
The last sentence was said in a whisper, and it deeply unsettled Sirius.
“You mean, you felt what the snake was thinking?” He tried, maintaining mask mode. But Harry shook his head.
“No. It wasn’t the snake - it was me. I wanted to hurt him.”
He was saved from answering by all the Weasleys bustling into the kitchen at once, in much higher spirits and in want of bacon. Leaning into this excuse, Sirius busied himself with cooking, cheerfully resisting Molly’s attempts to take over. He avoided Harry’s eye all morning; he simply didn’t know what to say.
Remus arrived late that night, after everyone else had gone to bed. Sirius filled him in on his conversation with Harry. There was no room for hiding anything, never with Remus. He frowned, but he listened without judgement.
Harry was already asleep, but Remus looked in on him all the same. His mouth hung open slightly, exactly the way Lily’s used to when she’d fall asleep in the common room in front of the fire. But his brow was furrowed, and tension draped over him, even in his sleep. Remus sighed and gently shut the door.
Back in his own room, he fell into Sirius, kissing him urgently and biting his lip when he didn’t respond quickly enough.
“What do you need, love?” Sirius whispered into his ear.
“You” he responded. “You - here.”
“I’m right here.” Sirius kissed him softly. “I’m always right here.”
That night, Remus lay awake for a long time, rearranging his thoughts and trying to make sense of the last few days, adding Harry’s strange tale into the mix and trying to understand where it fitted in.
They’d told each other he was fine, that they were overreacting. But when Remus woke up alone, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Sirius in dog form, asleep outside Harry’s room.
*
The festive season approached tentatively, as if it wasn’t sure whether it was allowed. Sirius alone threw himself into it, decorating the house and singing carols constantly. Remus looked to Molly nervously whenever Sirius mentioned something Christmassy, but she seemed to get on board, and with her approval, the rest of the house came around to the idea that it was alright to celebrate.
Harry approached Remus about accompanying the Weasleys to visit Arthur in hospital. He thought it would be a good idea, and decided to go too. Arthur was looking much better, sitting up and was happy to have his family around. He’d even befriended a man in the same ward, who he conferred to Remus was a newly turned werewolf.
Poor sod, thought Remus, to be newly bitten and directly outed to the Ministry, as was protocol at St. Mungos. As the others gathered around Arthur, he quietly removed himself to introduce himself.
“Hi, Remus Lupin. Pleasure to meet you.” The man was younger than Remus, he looked about 25, and seemed surprised that someone was offering to shake his hand.
“Wilf” He supplied, nervously.
“They treating you alright?” He asked, with a nod towards the staff. “You know, it’s illegal for them to treat you any different than anyone else here.”
Wilf swallowed. “Do you work here?”
“No, I work for an organisation called The Unicorn.” How long was it since he’d had to do this spiel? He used to visit St Mungos all the time, offering support from people whose families had turned their backs, and making sure Healers were treating them with dignity and following what scant protective laws they had. But recently, he’d been slipping, and he knew it.
He checked the potions to the side of Wilf’s bed, and noted grimly that they were still prescribing the lowest grade of pain relief. It was possible they underestimated the strain transformations put on the body; werewolves weren’t allowed to be Healers, so it’s not like anyone in the production team had first-hand experience in the matter. However, Remus suspected the prevalent attitude was that werewolves simply deserved the pain. He noticed Wilf’s clenched fists and gritted teeth, and surprisingly, all his anger washed away. It wouldn’t do him any good here. Instead, he pushed the potions to the back of the shelf, and started pulling out Eloise’s concoctions, which he always carried with him.
“This one’s good for scratches, anything deeper and you’ll want to try this… your body will feel weak after a full moon, so take this to replenish yourself…” he explained each one as he went along, and found himself appreciative of how much more knowledge there was in the world, compared to when he was a boy. He could never have imagined talking to a stranger about his condition, or being able to keep his mind while he transformed, or falling in love, with someone who knew who he really was. He wanted to convey all this to Wilf, who probably felt like his world had just ended right in front of him. There’s good to come, he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how.
He was distracted by Harry, Ron and Hermione slipping back into the room. He hadn’t noticed them leave, and the three of them were looking distinctly guilty and pale. Leaving his address on the back of a flyer for The Unicorn, Remus excused himself and hurried over to Harry.
“Are you alright?”
Harry looked up at him. “We saw - Neville’s parents. It was bad.”
Remus gripped Harry’s shoulder, filled with memories of Alice and Frank.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked. “You knew them, didn’t you?”
Remus smiled sadly. “Very well. I knew them very well indeed.”
Realising he had one more thing to do before he ended his visit, he entrusted Harry into the care of Molly to see him home, then he ascended the stairs to the long term patients ward. He spotted Neville as he did, who was just leaving too. He’d shot up since Remus had last seen him, as his teacher, and like Harry was showing signs of shaking off his younger self.
“Neville,” he called out gently, by way of greeting. Still the boy jumped, but he smiled when he saw who it was.
“Professor Lupin!” Remus could see his face light up, then cloud over in anticipation of the questions he suspected were to come regarding why he was there.
Remus recognised that look, of daring you to challenge them. He had seen it many times on Alice’s face, whenever she would come up with a dangerous plan, that was inevitably brilliant. In spite of himself, he smiled, and Neville’s eyes flashed.
“What!” He demanded, and there it was again, that defiance.
“I’m sorry,” replied Remus, trying to suppress his emotions. “It’s just, you look ever so much like your mother.”
“You know my parents?” Remus noted the use of the present tense, and felt guilty again, in his lapse of visits. In the early days, he’d visited all the time. They were the only people he’d had left. But after a while, it became too much for him. He had this belief that one day, he’d turn up and Frank would be waiting at the entrance, suitcase in hand. That Alice would appear behind him, and tell him off for being late, that she’d found some obscure band that was playing that night, and wouldn’t it be fun if they all went?
The fantasy seemed innocuous at first, but its roots had taken hold, and the image of it became stronger than reality. Over and over in his mind they walked out and took the tube together, or a bus, or sometimes they just walked - having conversations about nothing much at all, as if they lived quietly ordinary lives. He never imagined them actually arriving at the imagined gig, perhaps because if they went there, even in his mind, he’d either have to invent that James and Lily and Peter and Sirius were there too, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Either way, visiting the real Alice and Frank disrupted his daydreams too harshly, and he’d chosen to simply give the reality up.
Now their son stood before him, never having known the version of his parents who loved live music, and had a talent for bringing everyone together. Frank, who was so attuned to everyone’s emotions, and made sure everyone was always included. Alice, who was louder, but kind too, and would drive conversations to unexpected places, and had the best laugh he’d ever heard. Should he have shared these memories with Neville, he wondered, while he was at Hogwarts? Would they have brought either of them comfort, or would they simply have been a twist of the knife, reminding him of what he’d never get to experience from them himself? But speculating would do neither of them any good. He was here now, and he sought forgiveness.
“I was wondering - would it be alright if I..?” He let the question hang in the air, but Neville understood.
“They love visitors.” He said “Mum will probably try and give you presents, that’s how you can tell, and dad - well, he’s quieter. But I think he likes having people around anyway.”
Remus nodded.
“Thank you” he said, and stepped into the ward.