Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

The portrait of the Fat Lady squeaked ever so slightly as it swung inward into the common room at the bottom of Gryffindor Tower. It was empty; the term was not to start for a few more days. Remus Lupin crawled through the portrait-hole and gazed around the room he had spent so much of his time at Hogwarts in.

It had been three years since he had seen this room; three years since he and his friends had graduated and gone into their lives. Three years since the Marauders had had the run of the school; three days since they had been broken up forever.

There's a grief that can't be spoken
There's a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone

Remus walked carefully across the room to a little table in the corner, near the fireplace. He ran his fingers over the table top listlessly, then took hold of the back of one of the four chairs and pulled it out. He didn’t sit down, but stood, staring into space.

It had been three days since Sirius’ sentence had been passed; five since Peter had died; six since Lily and James had been killed. In four short days, Remus’ whole world had fallen apart.

As soon as he’d heard the news about Lily and James, he’d returned to Hogwarts from his teaching post in Wales. By the time he’d gotten back, Sirius had been captured. He had been aghast at the thought of his old friend Padfoot being a spy for Voldemort, but by the time he had had the situation explained to him - by Professor Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, no less - his shock was only that he had never noticed. The Marauders’ close friendship hadn’t ended with their school years; in fact, the opposite was more nearly true. Of course, they hadn’t been running about every full moon since school had ended, either. For one, they hadn’t the time - for another, Remus’ conscience wouldn’t allow it.

Shakily, he sat down in the chair he hadn’t sat in for so long. He hadn’t thought of their monthly escapades since the news had come, and he was shocked at how strongly the memory affected him. Padfoot, how could you? All of our dreams...

Here they talked of revolution
Here it was they lit the flame
Here they sang about tomorrow
And tomorrow never came.

The common room had never been so jovial, not even last spring when James had won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup. News had just come in - a Death Eater had come to the Ministry, and half a dozen more of Voldemort’s supporters had been captured as a result. In a fit of relief and joy, the headmaster had called off all afternoon classes, and everyone was celebrating in their own way. Such moments of joy were rare lately, and everyone was determined to take full advantage of what may be the last victory they would have in a long time.

Sirius and James, with the aid of the Marauder’s Map and the invisibility cloak, had snuck down to Hogsmeade for some treats. The Marauders were seated around their usual table, bottles of butterbeer - both empty and full - scattered about.

“And a toast!” Sirius was calling, “to our good friend Karkaroff!”

“That’s only the sixth one this evening,” Remus reminded him calmly, but he was smiling all the same and drank with the rest of them.

“D’you suppose they’ll actually catch all the other Death Eaters he named?” Peter asked, sounding slightly nervous.

“Of course,” Sirius scoffed. “But then, they may not get around to it until next fall, when ol’ Prongs and I will be joining their illustrious ranks...” He just continued to grin as James rolled his eyes.

“Really, Padfoot, I hardly think that we’d be off chasing Death Eaters that quickly,” he said in the tones of one who had made this argument before. “Matter of fact, I think you’ll have quite a time getting into the Ministry at all if you don’t study a bit for your N.E.W.T.s...”

“The hell with grades!” Sirius declared, rising from his chair with a flourish. “We’ve got greater things ahead of us! Honor! Glory! Fame --” He sat down abruptly, spluttering, as the other three splashed him with what was left in their mugs.

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
I can hear them now!

Remus traced a finger absently over the designs etched into the tabletop, remembering. They had been so proud, so sure of themselves. So invincible. Like all teenagers, he supposed. Invincible. But the feeling had continued long after their adolescence, years after their graduation - until those nine long days ago.

The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lowly barricade..
At dawn.

He had seen the wreckage of the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow, seen what was left of the London street. It had seemed to him as though the rubble contained in it all of their dreams and aspirations, all of their lives, all of their friendship. It had all crumbled when Sirius had turned away from them.

Anger suddenly overtook him and he slammed a fist into the table. Why? Why had Lily and James had to make Sirius their Secret-Keeper? Why had they never turned to him? And why Peter, for God’s sake, why had Peter been the one to go after Sirius?

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.
That I live and you are gone
There's a grief that can't be spoken
There's a pain goes on and on

Remus jumped up from the table and stalked around the room, trying to vent some of his frustration. There was only one answer, wasn’t there? They had suspected him. Damn. Even his best friends - his only friends! - subject to all the suspicion and mistrust, just because of what he was. They would have told him, otherwise. They would have said something! They would have --

Remus suddenly realized that his pacings had brought him face-to-face with the stairway up to the dormitory rooms. He nearly collapsed, all his anger draining out of him suddenly, and he had to grip the back of a chair to steady himself. Up those stairs was the dormitory room they had shared for seven years. So many memories filled this building - but so many more in that room. He thought about climbing the stairs, turning into the room, sitting there for a while, but his legs refused to do it. Instead, he pulled out the chair he had been leaning on and collapsed bonelessly into it. He was afraid, some absent-minded, detached part of his brain realized. Afraid, perhaps, that it had changed too much. And perhaps even more afraid that it had not, that he might go up there and see their faces - James’ easygoing smile, Sirius’ sly smirk, Peter’s sheepish grin.

Phantom faces at the window
Phantom shadows on the floor
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.

He closed his eyes against the pain. He would never see their faces again, he realized. James, Peter, Lily...even Sirius was as dead to him as the others, for he could not bear to think of that creature they had hauled off to Azkaban as his friend Padfoot. So much lost in such a short time. So much lost for the defeat of one wizard. Was it worth it? Two weeks ago he would have said that any price was worth the defeat of Voldemort. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more...

Remus stood up then, straightened the chairs he had moved, and walked out of the Gryffindor common room, closing the door firmly behind him.