Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

"You're both mental," Ron declared, finally looking up at the two men whose eyes were fixed on his hands.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead! He killed him twelve years ago!" Harry said, pointing at Sirius, who flinched at being so addressed by his own godson.

"I meant to," he growled, eyes still fixed on the struggling rat, "but little Peter got the better of me ... not this time, though!"

Crookshanks leapt from Sirius's lap as the man dove across the bed, trying to make a grab for Ron's pet. He missed and fell across Ron's leg, forcing a yelp from Ron which made Remus wince in sympathy.

"Sirius, NO!" he shouted, grabbing the other man and wrapping his arms around him, dragging him back. "WAIT!" he insisted. "You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain --"

"We can explain afterwards," snarled Sirius, trying ineffectually to break Remus's hold on him and get to the squeaking, struggling rat.

In his weakened state, Sirius was no match for him. Remus held on tight, resting his cheek between Sirius's shoulder blades as he held him. Never let go again .... "They've -- got -- a -- right -- to -- know -- everything!" he panted as Sirius continued to fight him. It was as if seeing the rat had flipped a switch in Sirius and all his reason had left him. "Ron's kept him as a pet!" Remus pleaded. "There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harry --" he grasped at the one thing that might make Sirius see reason, "you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

At last Sirius stopped fighting. Though his eyes never left the rat, he sagged against Remus who was shocked at how little weight there was to him. Remus held him a moment longer, whispering soothing nonsense until he felt that Sirius could support his own weight, then reluctantly let him go.

Sirius swayed slightly. "All right, then. Tell them whatever you like," he said in uncharacteristically harsh tones, but a pleading note entered his voice as he added, "but make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for ..." His eyes never left "Scabbers" as he said this, and Remus's throat closed again at the bitterness of Sirius's words.

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron, struggling to rise from the bed and pocket his rat at the same time. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

"You're going to hear me out Ron," Remus said softly, removing his wand from his belt and pointing it at the rat. So much for "you're armed and I'm not," he thought. He and Sirius had business to attend to here and it was essential that Harry know the truth about what had happened to his parents, that Ron understand about his pet, and that Hermione be there to hear, too, because she would be the quickest to understand, and once she understood, the boys would surely follow. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, still trying to shove the rat into his pocket. Ron lost his balance but Harry was suddenly there at his arm and caught him, helping him sit back down on the bed.

Then Harry rounded on Remus. "There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he declared defiantly. "A whole street full of them ..."

"They didn't see what they thought they saw," Sirius growled, baring his teeth.

Remus nodded. I was there, and if that's Peter in Ron's hands, then I certainly didn't see what I thought I saw. "Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself -- until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies ... Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry." Believe, he begged the boys silently. But he could tell from the look Ron and Harry exchanged that they were a long way from convinced.

Hermione as well. "But Professor Lupin ..." her voice trembled and it was obvious that she was still frightened. She was standing near the door and was quick enough to escape but Remus was pleased to see that she had no intention of leaving without Ron and Harry. This lot were well sorted. "Scabbers can't be Pettigrew ... it just can't be true, you know it can't ..."

"Why can't it be true?" he asked in as reasonable a tone as he could muster.

"Because ... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus."

Remus nodded as Hermione babbled everything she had learnt about Animagi from her studies. I had forgotten how rare a talent it is. Sirius and James and Peter spoiled me, I guess. Seven official Animagi this century -- how could she believe that three reckless, foolish teenage boys managed something so obviously difficult?

He laughed, cutting off Hermione's recitation of Animagi facts and figures. "Right again, Hermione!" he said, favouring her with a smile. "But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts." You know Sirius is an Animagus and that he's not registered. Believe the rest of it as well.

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," Sirius interrupted him. From where he was sitting, Remus could hear the soft, continuous growl coming from deep in his throat. "I've waited twelve years. I'm not going to wait much longer."

Twelve years. It broke Remus's heart all over again -- imagining Sirius alone and friendless in Azkaban for twelve years, knowing what he knew and believed by none. I didn't visit him, Remus thought again with guilt. I could have. He asked for me. I didn't even try. I abandoned him.

"All right ..." his voice was soft and nearly cracked with emotion. He almost reached out to cover Sirius's hand with his own but thought better of it in the present company. "But you'll need to help me, Sirius," he appealed softly, and at last Sirius dragged his eyes away from the rat to look at him. Beautiful eyes, even now. "I only know how it began ..." How we began.

He could see in Sirius's eyes the acknowledgment of times long past as well. Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something. He raised his hand and might have been about to reach for Remus when suddenly a loud creak from the direction of the door caused them all to freeze.

Regretfully, Remus rose from his place near Sirius and went to investigate the open door, peering out onto the dim landing. "No one there ..." but his wolf senses denied the evidence of his eyes and he felt the back of his neck prickle.

"This place is haunted!" Ron declared, looking even paler than before if such a thing were possible.

"It's not," said Remus shortly, still peering into the darkness, feeling the wrongness of it. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted ..." He said it slightly louder than was natural, as if he were suddenly unsure of the fact and must convince himself. "The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his hair up off his forehead. His head felt hot. His ears were pounding. The room felt cramped and crowded. The excitement of the night must be getting to me. He sought calm in reminiscence. "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten ... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy ..."

The children were listening now. None of them looked prepared to make a break for it or to attack himself or Sirius any longer, which was a relief. He let himself relax a little. It had all started so long ago that he felt a million years old.

They sat, rapt and wide-eyed, as he recounted the events of his youth. From the bite at the tender age of six -- it's a wonder Greyback didn't tear me to pieces. If my father hadn't been there ... -- to his family's concerns that he would not be able to have a normal education, and the kindly and timely intervention of Headmaster Dumbledore. He told them about learning to keep secrets and trust no one, and then about the wonder of finding friendship and learning to trust again.

He glanced around the room at each pair of eyes fixed on his. The children's looks of suspicion, wonder, fear, curiosity. And then he looked at Sirius. Even someone who knew the person and mannerisms of Sirius Black less well than Remus had would have been able to see how highly strung the man was. He sat perfectly still, eyes on Remus, but there was a tenseness in his posture and the fingers of his right hand were twitching as if they longed to grasp a wand once more.

Help me tell them the story, Sirius, he begged silently. The vengeance is Harry's as much as it is yours and mine. He needs to understand first. He knew he had to get Sirius's attention on the story. He told about the pain of his transformations and Sirius's nervous movements stilled.

"But apart from my transformations," he went on, "I was happier than I had ever been in my life." As he said these words, he looked directly into the eyes of Sirius Black. "For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black ..." he shifted his eyes to Ron's hands, "Peter Pettigrew ..." his eyes moved at last to meet Harry's, "and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter."

At first he had tried to hide his secret from his friends but that they had seen through his prevarications and guessed the truth. Rather than abandoning him as he had expected, they had instead given him two great gifts: they had accepted him for who he was, beast and all, and they had become part-beast themselves. He could think of no greater gesture a friend could make, bar giving up life itself. And he would have done so for such friends happily.

"They became Animagi," he said, and he could not keep a note of pride from his voice.

Harry's eyes were round as saucers. "My dad, too?"

"Yes, indeed," Remus smiled at Harry, remembering the first time he had seen the magnificent young stag take the place of his tousle-haired friend. Proud, antlered head, delicate hooves and a graceful arrogance of movement.

He had learnt this year just how much Harry admired his father, and it occurred to him that Harry himself might now wish to become an Animagus. Not something to be entered into lightly, my boy, he thought as he explained to the children just how difficult the spell was to learn and how it could go wrong. Like poor old Mrs Norris, for she must have been an Animagus to show up on the Marauder's Map. Now she's stuck as a cat forever.

When he saw Hermione nodding slowly, he knew that should the boys ever think about becoming Animagi, she would be there to talk them out of it. She might be able to manage it herself, though, he thought speculatively. Clever girl like that. It's a wonder she's not a Ravenclaw. With Hermione's tacit acknowledgment of the dangers of the Animagus transformation, Remus returned to his story.

"Finally in our fifth year, they managed it," he continued. "They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" asked Hermione.

He explained to them the influence the large, sapient animals had had on his own wolfish nature, curbing his animal instincts enough to significantly reduce the danger he posed to humans -- a werewolf's only prey. How grateful he had been to them! And how foolhardy they had been.

Sirius interrupted his thought. "Hurry up, Remus," he growled. He was staring at Ron's hands again. Clearly the story he knew all too well was only going to keep him distracted for so long.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there ..." he soothed. He told about leaving the Shrieking Shack on moonlit nights, of discovering the secrets of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, of the creation of the Marauder's Map. He tried to keep the facts as bare and simple as possible but Remus loved telling stories and he could not help throwing in details here and there just to see the look of wonder on Harry's face as bits and pieces of his father's youth and personality unfolded before him. "Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

Harry's eyes were wide. "What sort of animal --?" he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf!" she scolded. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus caught Ron rolling his eyes. "What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," Remus replied with an internal shudder. "And there were near misses," he admitted. "Many of them." He remembered the guilt of those mornings, unable to remember the events of the previous night but waking to find his friends scratched, bitten and bleeding, knowing what must have happened; that they had nearly lost control of him again. "We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness."

There had also been the guilt of knowingly betraying Dumbledore's trust. "And I haven't changed," he said savagely. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd lead others along with me ..."

Of course, that was not the only reason; above all, he had to admit to himself that the main reason he had kept his silence was that he had not wanted to be the one responsible for the capture of Sirius. And now that silence was justified. If he had spoken, Sirius, his own dear, innocent Sirius, would now be worse than dead.

So instead he told the children of his loyalty to Dumbledore, which they would understand even if they could not comprehend the rest of it, but his eyes were on the man still staring at the rat and he hoped that Sirius would know the words he did not say. "And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learnt from Voldemort," he concluded. "That being an Animagus had nothing to do with it ... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" said Sirius, looking up at him in surprise and confusion. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," he replied tiredly, knowing that when it came to Snape, even the adult Sirius he had known twelve years ago had been petty as a teenager with a grudge. Still, if it distracted him for a few minutes longer from his murderous intentions .... "He's teaching here as well."

He turned back to Harry, Ron and Hermione then, explaining that Snape had been at Hogwarts with the lot of them and that there had been bad blood between them from the start. He was glad that he was the one telling this story, since although he had had no liking for Snape, he alone among his friends had been tolerant and the least likely to bear a grudge. Only he was able to tell the story of the Infamous Whomping Willow Prank in a neutral tone of voice, devoid of any strong feeling. He saw Sirius hunching his shoulders, though, and balling his hands into fists as he recounted that particular event.

"He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore," he finished. "But from that time, he knew what I was ..."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," Harry said, a look of dawning comprehension lighting his face, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," said an all-too-familiar, all-too-unwelcome voice from about five feet behind Remus.

He jumped and spun around, the back of his neck prickling and a soft growl escaping his throat. There, leaning casually against the wall, wand in hand and an insufferable smirk on his face, was Severus Snape.