Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

It really was like being back at school, he reflected ruefully. The full moon came around, some excitement happened and he missed it. In the days following the Halloween full moon, he was too weak to venture out to the Quidditch pitch to see Harry in action for the first time this year. He had heard the boy's talent as a Seeker put even James's abilities to shame. He would have liked to see that for himself.

The potion had taken him rather funny this time, as it sometimes did, and he was unable to hold the class on Hinkypunks he had been planning. It was especially a shame, because he did not even get a chance to wish Harry "good luck" before the match against Hufflepuff.

But when he left his rooms the following afternoon, he learned that the excitement he had missed had been of an entirely different character. The Dementors had invaded the pitch mid-game, drawn by the emotional excitement and energy of the crowd. They had come to feed. And Harry's response to them had once again been to faint dead away, only this time the boy had been high above the ground, and had fallen more than fifty feet.

Thankfully Dumbledore had intervened -- angrier than anyone had ever seen him, Professor Flitwick confided -- and had arrested the boy's fall and called the Dementors off him. Unfortunately, Harry's broomstick had not survived the incident, having sailed directly into the branches of the Whomping Willow. The irony of the situation was apparent to Remus. The presence of the Dementors was doing as much harm as good; they might protect the boy from Sirius, but they seemed just as likely to kill him as a side effect. There had been no sign of Sirius anywhere in the school grounds since the incident on Halloween.

Remus wanted to speak with Harry again. He was becoming more and more concerned about the boy's reaction to the Dementors, and was curious to know how much Professor McGonagall had told him about the situation. But every time he put his head into the hospital wing, Harry was either with his friends or he was sleeping, and Remus was loathe to wake him. He seemed well enough, though; none the worse for his fall.

He was very glad on the following Monday to see Harry out of bed and back in class, but his attention was occupied by the class's grievances about the work Severus had apparently assigned in his absence. It seemed that the Potions master had seen fit to assign an essay on the very advanced subject of werewolves. Remus groaned inwardly. Severus was prevented from directly revealing his secret by the Headmaster's injunction, but it seemed he was going to do his level best to get one of the students to come up with it independently.

He quickly assured the class that they would not be expected to turn in any such essay, much to their relief. And much to his own relief, it seemed that most of the students had not even started on the assignment. Only Harry's friend Hermione seemed disappointed, saying she had already finished it. That was worrying. If anyone in the class was likely to put two and two together and come up with "werewolf", it was she. Well, he would just have to hope that she would not make that leap.

He quickly turned the class's attention to the subject of Hinkypunks and their misdirecting habits, explaining among other things their relation to will o' the wisps. The students seemed much happier with this subject matter.

When the lesson was over, Remus called Harry back for a private word, expressing his sympathy over the fate of the boy's broom. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts," he said, unsure why he should be telling the boy such a thing. But if Harry wondered why anyone would ever plant such a tree on school grounds, he did not ask. It seemed something else was occupying his mind.

"Did you hear about the Dementors, too?" he said stiffly.

Remus acknowledged that he had. He could tell the subject troubled the boy deeply.

"Why?" Harry finally burst out. "Why do they affect me like that? Am I just --?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Remus assured him. He explained the nature of Dementors to Harry, glad that his background in Defence Against the Dark Arts gave him greater knowledge of and insight into these creatures, grateful that his knowledge could help this boy who was obviously so desperately hungry for answers.

No, it was not weakness that lead Harry to lose consciousness in the presence of the Dementors; it was simply that their purpose was to drain away every positive thought and memory, leaving only the worst of a person's experiences. And the worst of Harry's experiences went far beyond those of most children his age. For that reason, the Dementors had a much greater effect on him.

To be sure, many adults, especially those who had lived through the war, had experienced things as terrible, and occasionally much worse than Harry had, but adults were better equipped to face that kind of darkness. Harry himself would harden to it with age, but for now it was an inconvenience to him, as well as a source of embarrassment. Remus resolved to do whatever he could to help the boy.

"When they get near me --" Harry paused, as if uncertain how much to confide in his teacher. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Lily. Remus had not been expecting that. Surely he was too young to remember -- He reached out a hand to touch Harry's arm, but drew back. While he might consider this boy as family, certainly Harry regarded him as nothing more than a teacher, and such a gesture would be out of context.

He had been avoiding thinking about Lily. It was bad enough thinking about Sirius all the time, without adding her to it. But seeing this boy, looking into those green, green eyes, it was impossible not to call her to mind. Sweet and gentle Lily. The first person at Hogwarts to whom he had volunteered his secret. The first person to whom he had confided his feelings for Sirius. She had been his truest and first real friend.

He had met them all around the same time, soon after his arrival at Hogwarts, but he had grown close to her first. Later, he had been drawn into the Marauders, and she to a group of girls she roomed with, but in the end, they and she had become such a cohesive group that most people outside of it could not sort out the dynamics. The fact of it was that by the time they all left school, there had been two couples and two sets of best friends. James and Lily had gotten together only in their seventh year, but Lily had always been Remus's best friend as Sirius had been James's.

Only poor little Peter Pettigrew had not had someone to confide in above all others, Remus reflected. He had often felt badly for the boy who had so looked up to James and (Remus had often suspected) had a crush on him. He wondered if Peter had ever felt jealous of the bonds the rest of them shared. Poor Peter, who had died for his love of James -- died at the hands of Sirius.

The worst of it for Remus had of course been Sirius's betrayal of their love and trust but his murder of Lily had been a very close second in Remus's mind, depriving him of lover and best friend in one terrible stroke. And now this boy had revealed that he remembered her death -- those last horrible moments to which Harry, only a baby at the time, was the only witness. A small part of him was hungry to know how much Harry remembered -- to know some truth that might have been missed -- but his more prudent self knew that it would be better for them both not to dig too deeply into the events of that night, and besides, how much could a baby truly remember?

Harry was speaking again, asking why the Dementors had to appear just then, in the moment when the Snitch was within his grasp. Remus shook himself and explained about the feelings the Dementors had come to feed on.

"Azkaban must be terrible," mused Harry.

Remus nodded. He had often thought about the place over the past decade and more. Sometimes he felt he was trapped there himself, inside his head. Of course he had never seen it with his own eyes. No one went there unless they had business there or had no choice in the matter. But knowing that Sirius was there had lead him to think of the place often and wonder what it must be like for the man he had loved.

The Dementors would have drained away every happy thought, feasted on their love -- always assuming Sirius ever really loved me, he thought bitterly. He would have been left with ... with what? Remus wondered what grim and horrible memories plagued Sirius, alone in his cell. Did he feel remorse for what he had done? Loneliness? Did he remember Remus at all anymore or had he lost the last shreds of his humanity in that dreadful place?

He found himself explaining the nature of the place out loud, more to himself than to Harry. If he could only think about the place, and think about it in the most basic terms possible, forgetting about the man for a moment, maybe the tightness in his chest would go away. "The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," said Harry. "He got away ..."

Remus was so startled that he dropped his briefcase. To hear that name spoken aloud with such bitterness by the son of Lily and James Potter .... He wondered how much Professor McGonagall had told Harry. Obviously she had told him enough. While the idea of an escaped murderer might be interesting and maybe a little scary to a boy, only the knowledge of at least some part of the truth could engender such tones of loathing.

Sirius had taken Harry's parents from him, and Remus could not blame the boy for the way he felt. But Harry had never known Sirius, Lily or James -- not like Remus had -- and he could not begin to understand the complexity of sorrow and confusion that Remus felt. He wished he could tell the boy more, but he knew Harry would not understand. He was much too young to understand the idea of loving someone even when they have done unforgivable things. Maybe when he was older Remus could explain to him but not now. The look of loathing and disgust in those eyes would be unbearable.

"Yes," he said finally. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible ...." It was incredibly hard to mention his name in front of the boy. Harry was tied up in all this, the last great good left of that wonderful friendship, and Remus longed to speak to him about the love they had all shared, including Sirius, but it was impossible. "Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long ...."

"You made the Dementor on the train back off," Harry exclaimed suddenly. It was readily apparent to Remus that the boy was much more concerned about the Dementors than he was about Sirius. He was not sure if that was wise or not. However, he did not know what to say to the boy about Sirius that would be helpful. On the other hand, he knew a trick or two that might help against the Dementors.

Ten minutes later, Harry left the classroom content in the knowledge that he would soon be taking anti-Dementor lessons with Remus, while Remus himself was left once again to his thoughts.

There was another Hogsmeade visit planned for the students on the last day of term before the Christmas holiday and Remus was looking forward to tracking Harry down for another chat. He found he enjoyed talking to Lily and James's son and it had been a long time since he had been interested in talking to anyone. It might be a good habit to encourage in himself, he thought.

But try though he might he was unable to locate Harry anywhere in the castle or on the grounds when the day arrived. He even went down from the castle through the snow to ask if Hagrid had seen the boy but the large gamekeeper was not in his hut. When Remus knocked there was a scrabbling sound and then a dog began to bark inside. For a moment -- just a moment -- Remus thought he might open the door for a look at the dog, just in case .... But no. That was not Sirius's bark. It also sounded as if there might be other large animals inside the hut and Remus had little desire to encounter any of Hagrid's other "pets". He remembered only too well the gamekeeper's penchant for collecting "interestin' creatures".

Remus had often visited Hagrid with the Marauders during their school days. The big man had always enjoyed hearing tales of their pranks and adventures. Remus had not renewed that friendship since returning here. He had meant to but in the very first week of term he had overheard Hagrid declaring vehemently his hatred of Sirius, and Remus did not feel like subjecting himself to that. Hagrid was not a man to hide his feelings and his feelings were decidedly anti-Sirius. Remus felt that his own presence in Hagrid's hut would only serve to remind the gamekeeper of the Marauders' visits, and inevitably of the events which came later.

As he turned back towards the castle, feet chilled from snow melting into his shabby, inadequate footwear, he found his eyes turning towards the Forbidden Forest. If Sirius was still around was that not the most likely place for him to be lying hidden? Perhaps he was nearby right now, watching from the shadows.

Remus shivered and pulled his thin cloak more tightly around his shoulders. The snow was beginning to fall again swirling softly around him, the wind tugging at his hair. I could go have a look, he thought. It shouldn't be hard to find paw prints in the snow.

He had caught himself having similar thoughts many times since Halloween. Sirius was nearby, he was sure of it, and he could no longer deny to himself how much he longed for another glimpse of the man. When he had transformed at the end of November he had awoken almost hoping for some sign that the black dog had visited him again, but there was none.

Only two things stopped him from actively searching for Sirius: firstly, someone might ask or even guess what he was looking for. Secondly, he had no idea what he would do if and when he found Sirius. He knew in his heart he could not callously turn the man over to the law. Perhaps that was weakness but Remus had always been one to acknowledge and accept his own limitations. He knew that what he longed for was simply the nearness of one beloved but what could be done when the beloved was in the grip of madness and violence?

He stood gazing thoughtfully into the forest for some time before shaking himself and beginning the long trudge up the hill to the castle, his search for Harry forgotten.