History's Footnote

Promises look good on paper

Especially from you, from you

It felt wrong to admit, but it was probably one of Remus’s favourite Christmases. Sirius was as cheerful as he’d seen him, and they’d got everyone joint presents, including a set of books on Practical Defensive Magic for Harry. They signed their cards together, something they hadn’t done in years, and the sight of their names next to each other made them giddy with their own happiness. To top it all off, they were once again on good terms with Molly, who had knitted them matching coloured jumpers in an apparent initiation into the Weasley clan. 

Only one person seemed impervious to the holiday spirit, and that was Hermione. She was often quiet, but in a thoughtful way, which Remus related to. He had been paying extra attention to her over the holidays, and he was worried. He found her in the library room alone one afternoon, and decided it was a good time for a chat.

“Hermione, mind if I have a word?”

She placed a bookmark carefully in the spine of her novel, and nodded.

“I hear you told your parents you were staying at Hogwarts to study this Christmas. And before, you never told them about me getting fired, did you?”

Hermione bit her lip, and blew hair away from her face. Remus could tell she was thinking hard about her answer. 

“They don’t really understand how the magical world works -” she began, “about all the issues…”

Unsure where to go next, she simply trailed off. Remus considered her for a moment, and then said simply, “It’s a lot of weight that you are having to bear alone.”

“Do you have an alternative?” She shot back. 

It was the sharpest she’d ever been with him, with the exception of one occasion two years previously, when she’d believed him to be plotting with Sirius to kill Harry. He looked at her sadly, and felt decades older than he really was. He thought about the tapestry room, and how you could cover something up, but the truth was always waiting underneath.

“Just don’t let it take everything, ok?”

Hermione frowned. She wasn’t sure she knew what he meant, but she agreed anyway. She went back to her book, and Remus left her to it.

He found Harry in the kitchen with Ron, frowning down at one of the Christmas cards Sirius had arranged on the table in one of his bursts of festive energy. Harry jumped when Remus walked in, and replaced the card furtively. 

Intrigued, Remus glanced at it as he sat down. “Ah,” he said. “From my dad.”

“Sorry,” Harry began. “I didn’t realise… well, you never said but, I just thought your dad was dead, for some reason?”

“Lyall?” Sirius had entered the room without Remus noticing. “Nah, Lyall’s fine. Just lives in Wales, that’s all.”

Sirius was always trying to smooth things over, and was never discouraged by the fact that he seldom succeeded at it. Remus was grateful for his attempt, but he surveyed Harry closely and thought he could detect a small hint of betrayal in his eyes.

“How come you never talk about him?” Harry asked, his voice small. 

“It’s complicated,” he admitted.

“Did he… reject you? Because you were a werewolf?” Harry pressed on, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“No, but he blamed himself.”

“Why?”

“Because it was his fault.” Remus smiled wryly. “No, it wasn’t really. It was an inevitable cycle of hate, they were all trapped inside of it.”

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, confused, and Remus knew he hadn’t really answered their question. Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Remus gently touched his hand with his little finger. It had been a sign of theirs, when they were younger. Sirius used to talk too much and Remus not enough, and they’d use the tapping to signify to the other it was time to swap roles. Sirius would have said something to ease the awkwardness, but if Harry wanted to ask about Lyall, Remus would tell him the truth. 

“I love my father, and he loves me. But things are difficult between us. I never told you why I was bitten, did I?” Remus leaned back into his chair. “It was a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback, and it was premeditated. My father called werewolves - what was it? ‘Soulless, evil, and deserving of death’, and Greyback was looking for revenge. So my father’s hate led to more hate, as hate always does.”

“This… Greyback, he bit you on purpose?” Asked Ron, outraged.

“Yes. He would have killed me, but my parents heard me scream, and my father was able to save my life. I used to wish he’d let me die, but that would only have led to more pain.”

Here, Sirius took his hand, and he was grateful for its comfort.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “my father loved me, and he fought for my rights from that day. The hatred in this world is so entrenched that it’s become invisible to most. My being bitten rendered it visible for Lyall, but more often than not, it takes someone from the outside to see things as they truly are. That’s why it’s so important we build a space for outsiders - the muggle borns, the werewolves -”

“The pureblooded homosexuals…” Sirius cut in.

Remus smiled. “The pureblooded homosexuals are on thin ice, but sure.”

“What about Umbridge?” Harry demanded. “Are you saying that she’s… just on the inside? Too blind to know she’s wrong?”

“No way.” Said Sirius. “She’s a complete c–”

“Alright!” Remus clapped his hands together to cut Sirius off. Harry and Ron were looking gleeful. “Enough of this gloomy conversation, anyone for exploding snap?”

As Ron ran to grab cards and fetch Hermione, Harry lingered at the table. 

“I think you should visit him.”

Remus felt a pang in his stomach and realised Harry had inherited a rare trait from Lily; the ability to make him feel ashamed of himself. 

“I know” he replied, feeling a sudden rush of affection towards his father, and to Harry. “I will.”

He would visit, he decided, just as soon as he had the time.

*

All too soon, they were taking down the wreaths of holly, and the kids were heading back to school. Their letters were being closely monitored, so Remus had to rely heavily on Order meetings to find out what Harry was up to. 

There was much debate around Harry’s continuation of the DA club. Some members felt that Sirius and Remus, being the closest people Harry had to competent  guardians, ought to have taken a stronger stance to stop him. Their Christmas present to Harry had been taken as the opposite of this, which was in fact their intention, but Remus was prepared to deny it if necessary. He was saved from having to do so by Molly, who spoke up in his stead.

“Well, they need to learn, don’t they!” She stood up at the table. “We all saw the news, the mass breakouts from Azkaban - I’m not saying they should fight, but they need to know how to defend themselves! In case - in case of, you know.”

She glanced down the table towards her husband, who was on the mend but still looking frail. In the wake of his attack, guard rotations had been increased to three people at a time; two in the entry and one in the main lobby of the Ministry. They were using the official Ministry communication lines to keep in touch, slipping their own messages in among the thousands of enchanted paper planes that flew through the Ministry at all hours.

With this increased number of people, they were in need of extra volunteers. At the same time, they still didn’t know how Arthur had come to be attacked, and trust was low. Remus ended up volunteering, despite his promise to Sirius. Dumbledore wasn’t keen to utilise Unicorn members, but Remus pointed out that they’d be frequently in the Ministry for various court dates and protests and could be used as an extra set of eyes without anyone needing to know any details. 

With considerable effort, Remus drew his attention back to the discussion at hand. They seemed to have reached no agreement about Harry, and had drawn the topic to a close with a vague reminder to Mundungus to ‘keep an eye’ on things, and trust that Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything get out of hand. 

The other point of business revolved around Hagrid and Olympe, who had just returned from their mission, although it could hardly have been called a success. At the end of the meeting, Remus sought Hagrid out.

“Your mother… did you manage to find her?” He asked gently, as people began to filter out around them.

“Dead.” Hagrid responded. 

“I’m sorry, Hagrid.”

He waved a hand airily. “Well, at least I found - ”

Hagrid broke off, abruptly. 

“What?” Asked Remus.

“Errr…. Her home. It was good to see… where she lived, and that.”

Remus got the strong impression that Hagrid was hiding something from him. He just didn’t know what.

People began to say their goodbyes and trickle out the house. Remus was grateful for the quiet in their wake. Sirius came over and gave him a quick hug before retreating to spend some time with Buckbeak upstairs. 

Remus stretched upwards, unfurling his cramped limbs. He felt good in his body for once, stronger, more lithe. Since Harry had come to stay, both Remus and Sirius had been drinking less, and it was looking good on them. Remus hoped it would last now that the house was empty again. 

That was when an owl arrived from Hermione, with a copy of The Quibbler, of all things. Remus glanced at the headline and felt his heart stutter. 

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

In a state of near shock, Remus read through the article once, and then again. On the second time, he noticed the author - Rita Skeeter. Slowly, he began to knit together what was happening, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was a chaotic move, but a smart one too. The interview was all Harry; humble, but to the point, and angry, but he could feel Hermione behind it too - the sharp wit and resourcefulness beyond anything Remus could have thought of himself. 

He turned his attention to the note attached, which read:

Anything this war tries to take, we’re taking it right back. And none of us are fighting anything alone.

Thank you for everything,

Hermione