Silent Night: A Marauders Christmas Story

It was Christmas Eve and the world was tucked under a thick downy blanket. The street was empty and still, except for the hushed fall of snowflakes and the lone figure of a man trudging through the fresh white powder. His clothes were worn and much too thin for a winter's night. Chilly wisps of icy wind bit through the unpatched holes in his cloak and the snow heaped over his tattered shoes, rendering his feet completely numb. Red and raw, his hands were stiff from the cold, his left one frozen in its grip on the handle of a battered old case, bearing the name: Professor R.J. Lupin.

Golden light from livingroom windows spilled out into the darkness, illuminating his face which was nearly as pale as the snow. Ringed with weariness, his longing eyes gazed inward at festive scenes, as though each was a gilded portrait capturing the laughter and love of every house he passed. Family and friends were gathered in celebration tonight. Children squealed and stuffed their rosy faces with gingerbread and candy canes. Twinkling lights reflected in their round eyes, which would soon be heavy with sleep as they dreamed in their cosy beds of Father Christmas and the toys he would bring. Meanwhile, grownups toasted friendship and the accomplishments of the year with frothy mugs of eggnog as they chatted around crackling fires. Their lives seemed as beautiful and perfect to Remus as the crisply wrapped packages under their glistening Christmas trees.

Sighing despondently, he continued down the quaint street, in search of somewhere to rest awhile, before moving on to an unknown destination. It was a dead end with some trees, bare bushes and a rickety, wooden fence that marked the edge of some farmer's land. The glow of the streetlamps did not reach this far, but the moon was bright tonight, enabling him to see. His footprints left a deep trail all the way to a tall, pine, it's snow laden branches drooping low to the ground. Bending down, Remus slipped through the boughs and nestled against the rough trunk, gathering his cloak tighter around himself. His frosty breath wreathed his face as he stared up into the creaking pine. It wasn't a roof, but it would have to do.

He had no where else to go. His landlord had tossed him out that morning, insisting that Remus pay the rent he owed, which of course he could not do without a job. No amount of polite bargaining would convince the stingy proprietor to extend him some grace and so once again he had packed his few belongings and spent the day wandering the streets, watching others enjoy the holiday season, while a powerful sadness saturated his soul. Finally, after hours of stumbling about in the wind and snow, he needed respite. So here he sat, cold and alone, his only shelter a tree, longing to be inside somewhere warm and safe and friendly. Such is Christmas when one is a werewolf.

Shivering, Remus fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a Christmas bun wrapped in a napkin. He had spent his last bit of change on it and now, as the cold made his knuckles ache and his fingers feel brittle, he thought it might have been wiser to buy a cheap pair of gloves.

Slowly he nibbled bits of the bun, savouring each bite as he watched the lights sparkling up and down the road. The incessant snowfall had dwindled to a stop now and wind swirled the soft ground into drifts, ruffling his light brown hair and revealing telltale strands of grey that spoke of a hard life. He pulled his knees up to his chest in an effort to keep warm and in that moment he nearly found himself wishing he was the wolf, just so he would have his protective coat of fur. "No," he rebuked himself angrily. "Never wish that. The wolf has done enough."

He swallowed the last bite of bun and with it tried to swallow his guilt, but it stuck in his throat and threatened to make his pain brim over. Resting his forehead on the threadbare knees of his trousers, he allowed memories to wash over him--memories of nights like this, spent roaming under the moon. They were altogether then--the wolf, the dog, the stag and the rat, but not now. Two had left this world, one sat here forlornly mourning the past, and the other, well...he'd be better off dead considering where he was now.

The moon spilled its pale light over the ground, reaching Remus even under the protective branches of the towering pine. No matter how far he roamed, no matter where he hid, he could never escape its grasp. His joints and muscles throbbed with dreaded anticipation as he was once again reminded that the full moon was a mere two days away. He would have to find somewhere safe to transform. Perhaps he should go up to Hogwarts and spend the night in the Shrieking Shack, as he had done on countless occasions. His jaw clenched as he considered this. Just being there would torment him more than the agonizing transformation itself.

Singing voices accompanied by piano suddenly interrupted his tense thoughts. The familiar music drifted softly from a nearby house and Remus found himself humming along. Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright...With a ragged sigh he lifted his head and peered through the pine boughs. The ashen snow clouds had cleared, revealing a deep, black sky scattered with crystalline stars, As they had done a thousand times before, his eyes roamed the heavens until they fixed upon the brightest point of light--Sirius, shining in all its glory, like the star of Bethlehem itself. He closed his eyes and wondered how his once beloved friend was doing on this holiest of nights.

The singing continued faintly and from the archives of Remus' mind the far away music of laughter and an old wooden radio emerged...


* * * * *


Salty wind howled through the cell like a haunting voice from long ago and Sirius gasped as it shocked his lungs yet again. The never-ending crash of frigid waves against the fortress of Azkaban made his mind reel and threatened to send him over the brink into madness. He tried to huddle further under his thin blanket, but the holes made his efforts useless. Whoever said hell was on fire was wrong. This was hell, and it was frozen over.

Sirius took another stinging breath and wiped his dripping nose on his grubby prison robes. His hollow eyes flickered around the cell, peering through black hair, which hung as tangled and knotted as the endless pain in his chest. Day after day, month after month he sat here, counting his regrets like every cold stone that sealed him into this forlorn little box.

It was Christmas Eve and the only reason he even knew it was because the Ministry had ordered that prisoners be given an extra piece of stale bread to sop up the thin gruel they were rationed on a daily basis. Murky and foul, it hardly passed as edible, but it was apparently fortified with just enough to keep them alive and feeling sufficiently tortured. Sirius glared resentfully at the metal bowl sitting warped and dented in the middle of the uneven floor. It glistened in the moonlight, taunting his stomach, its shiny surface reminding him of how he had hungrily and savagely licked it clean.

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, a pleading wail announced a terrified warning, causing Sirius to instinctively shrink away from the bars of his cell. The fear in the air was palpable as the presence of a Dementor spread through the corridor like an icy black mist. Sirius curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the pitiless beast to continue on. Moaning, he grasped at his heart as the sinister creature hovered outside, its rattling breath inhaling strands of his soul for nourishment. Slowly the hooded spectre turned and wafted away, leaving a wasted Sirius in a forlorn heap on the hard floor.

Groans drifted eerily from other cells and wretched screams rang out in the darkness, as the Dementor continued its hungry patrol of the prison. Weakly Sirius pulled himself to a sitting position and wrapped his thin arms around his knees as tight as he could. He rocked back and forth, his voice croaking out broken words to the first Christmas carol that came to mind in an effort to comfort himself and block out the overwhelming sounds: "Silent n-night, holy night...calm...all b-b-bright..." His own voice ended in a whimper and he jammed the heal of his palm roughly against his mouth as it grew into a shuddering sob.

He let himself cry for a moment, tears freezing on his skin almost instantaneously, shoulders hunched and jerking in furious spasms. Then suddenly, an anguished curse burst from his raw throat. His foot lashed out, kicking the metal bowl, sending it clattering against the stone wall. The tinny sound echoed in the air along with his harsh words.

He yanked furiously at the ratty blanket, then exhausted from his outburst, leaned his head back wearily. Soothing light spilled clear and pure onto his tired face, with its skin stretched nearly transparent over his jutting cheekbones. His vacant grey eyes suddenly connected with the source of light--the moon. It was his only link to his past, the only thing that brought an ounce of comfort in this forsaken place.

Standing tremulously, Sirius shuffled over to the narrow window that allowed bitter sea air into his cell. It was little more than a crack in the stone, but enough to peer out at the pearly orb in the sky, enough to reach out his hand as if to touch it, to clutch it as a precious jewel in his palm. The breaking of waves against the shore suddenly mesmerized him and he reached a contorted hand through the opening into the frozen night. Briney wind, laced with mist from the sea lashed his skin and his eyes stung as he gazed achingly at the brilliant moon. His soul yearned for the freedom of nights spent wandering by its light. In spite of all the broken rules, they had been so innocent back then...an eternity ago. Sirius closed his eyes and in the gusting of the wind he could almost hear laughter, stamping hooves, excited barking, and a long, powerful howl that once again turned into the wind.

Sirius opened his eyes and his face twisted with emotion. "Where are you, Moony?" he whispered hoarsely, as his numb fingers grasped desperately at the silvery moon. The shining stars strewn around it pierced the shadows of Sirius' memory and he recalled other such sparkling ornaments amongst the fragrant needles of a particular tree...


* * * * *


Red and gold candles lined the holly-covered window sill of the little house in Godric's Hollow, casting flickering warm light over the cosy livingroom. A gigantic pine tree filled one corner, glittering with tiny winking stars and crimson strings of shiny beads. Welcoming fire blazed like a brilliant phoenix on the hearth and the sound of merry carols crackled over an old radio on the mantelpiece.

"He's going to be spoiled rotten!" said Lily, shaking her head with a smile that betrayed she was actually quite pleased. Her green eyes shone as she lovingly watched her son and her glossy red hair reflected the shimmering lights of the tree.

Five month old Harry was jabbering happily in the middle of the livingroom floor. He was buried in wads of wrapping paper and stuffed animals from a Muggle toy shop.

"Of course he will be!" Sirius assured her, with his most charming smile. "That's what uncles are for! Isn't that right, Harry?"

Baby Harry answered with a wet raspberry, then proceeded to bury his face into the fur of a rather large, fluffy, stuffed wolf.

James laughed, as he habitually ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Hey look, Moony! I think he likes yours best!"

"Judging by the amount of drool he's already gotten on it, I have a hunch you're right, " Remus agreed with a broad grin.

"Well, Moony's does look a lot cooler than yours," teased Sirius, dangling a rather comical stuffed reindeer with googly eyes, fuzzy green antlers and a bright red nose.

James snatched at the reindeer, feigning offence. "Hey, you know this was the closest thing to a stag I could find!"

Sirius snickered. 'So what's with the red nose, Prongs? Been into the fire whiskey again?" His grey eyes danced and he dodged a flying cushion, as though it were a nastily aimed bludger. The cushion whizzed past and hit Remus instead.

"Hey now!" Remus yelped, sloshing hot chocolate onto the rug. "I never said anything about the reindeer! Personally, I think the rubber rat is far worse and I'm not even sure it's meant for babies. Didn't it have a picture of a cat on the tag?"

"Thanks, Moony, " said James, giving Sirius a look of satisfaction. "You know, Sirius, you could really learn some manners from Remus. He only makes fun of people's gifts when they aren't here."

"Speaking of which," cut in Lily, "where is Peter tonight? I thought he was coming at least for a bit?" She nestled a bit closer to James on the couch, cleverly distracting him from causing a war with Sirius.

James took the bait and put his arm around his wife. "He said he'd best spend a few days with his mom. She gets a little down this time of year. I thought that was nice of him, because I know he wanted to be here."

"Well, maybe he'll be able to make it for New Years then, " said Lily hopefully, "and we can have a big celebration, because this coming year has to be better than last! Anyway, supper's almost ready, so you'd better help me get things on the table, James."

Groaning, he reluctantly stood. He didn't really feel like moving, although he was eager to try the new turkey carving spell he had learned. As capable as he was, domestic spells were not his specialty and last year he had somehow succeeded in exploding the turkey rather than slicing it. After Lily's initial scolding, they had all split a gut laughing while Padfoot lapped up every last turkey morsel off the floor and furniture and even some from James' and Remus' hair.

Remus and Sirius got up to follow, but Lily insisted they stay and keep Harry occupied instead, so the two uncles sat cross-legged on the floor amidst the torn Christmas wrap with Harry, who was now gnawing relentlessly on the rubber rat.

"Ah, teething are we?" Remus said to Harry, who gurgled as the rat let out a pathetic squeak. "Uncle Moony completely understands."

Sirius snorted into his eggnog. "As if you remember teething!" He snatched up a wet teething ring from the pile of Harry's toys and tossed it to Remus.

Remus examined the slimy, purple teether and raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Well, I do happen to sprout fangs once a month after all..."

"Oh, right," said Sirius, grinning. "Don't suppose that thing will help then."

"Likely not," Remus replied, wiping his hands on his faded blue jeans. Then observing the string of slobber that dangled from Harry's mouth, he added sarcastically, "but perhaps a rubber rat would do the trick."

Sirius grabbed the shaggy, black dog he'd bought for Harry and plunked it in front of his godson. "You know Harry, right now I'm only allowed to give you toys, but just wait...When you're sixteen, Uncle Padfoot's going to buy you a nice shiny motorbike!"

"And a nice private room at St. Mungo's to go with" said Remus dryly.

"Well then, wise guy, what would you give sixteen year old Harry for Christmas...a pet grindlylow?" demanded Sirius jokingly, daring Remus to top his gift.

Remus' eyes twinkled. "I was thinking more along the lines of a book about animagi," he said mischievously.

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh and leaned down toward Harry. "Never underestimate your Uncle Moony. He looks harmless, but he's a bit on the sneaky side."

Remus winked at Harry and ruffled his soft, black hair, which already mimicked his father's in its untidy habit of sticking up in all directions. "So I wonder what animagus Harry would be?" he mused.

"Let's see," said Sirius, as he looked over his godson and shrugged uncertainly. "He's short and roundish...and his hair's sort of black and fluffy...I dunno. Looks kind of like a penguin to me."

Remus burst out laughing and picked Harry up. "No way! I bet he'd be a lion! He's a true Gryffindor if I ever saw one!" He lifted Harry above his head and roared at him playfully, to which baby Harry responded by grabbing a handful of Uncle Moony's sandy brown hair and yanking quite hard. Uncle Moony roared for real this time and managed to plunk Harry back down and pry off his determined hands.

"Don't worry," said Sirius slyly, "He only pulled out the grey ones..."

Just then there was a clatter of pots and a shout came from the kitchen. "James Potter, you get that mistletoe out of here or I swear we'll be having venison for dinner instead of turkey!"

Remus and Sirius snorted and Harry's godfather gave him another important tip. "And make sure you come to Uncle Padfoot for advice on girls, not your dad!"

"Another exceptionally bad idea," Remus told baby Harry, who giggled cluelessly.

A wicked laugh and an impressively loud smooching noise sounded from the kitchen at which point both Remus and Sirius simultaneously moved to cover Harry's ears.

"Geez, Prongs!" shouted Sirius. "You're going to scar the kid for life!"

A shriek and a swatting noise followed, to which James said saucily "Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you."

Sirius snickered and with a roll of his eyes, Remus whispered to Harry. "A word to the wise--hexing people is not a good way to impress girls."

"Unless you want to date a Slytherin," added Sirius, swigging from his goblet. Harry reached for the goblet and his godfather lowered it to his level. "Look, Moony! I think he wants some eggnog..."

"Sirius, you can't give him that! It's got Hagrid's homemade rum in it!"

"Aw, just a bit though. Come on, Moony, it'll make him happy..."

"Intoxicated is more like it," Remus muttered and held his own mug out to Harry. "Here, little guy. Try some of Uncle Moony's hot chocolate instead."

Harry's pink tongue licked the edge of the mug, then proceeded to lap eagerly at the contents, as Remus tilted it for him. "You drink just like Uncle Padfoot!" he joked, as Harry blew bubbles into the sweet warm cocoa.

Lily emerged from the kitchen then, preceded by several steaming bowls and plates which glided smoothly toward the table. "Remus, are you giving Harry, chocolate?" she asked in horror.

Remus' eyes widened innocently, as Harry gave Lily a chubby, toothless, grin. His mouth was sticky and ringed with brown cocoa. "Only because Sirius was trying to get him drunk!" Remus protested.

Lily smirked. "Fine then, Remus, you can change his next diaper and I assure you, it won't be pretty."

Perfectly on cue, a loud rumble came from the direction of Harry's diaper, followed by a satisfied sigh from the baby and hysterical laughter and hand waving from Sirius.

"Right then!" Remus grimaced. "Enough chocolate for you!" He pulled the mug away and jammed the chewy, purple teether into Harry's mouth instead.

"Make way for the turkey!" James called proudly as the enormous bird, cooked to perfection and sliced immaculately, floated slowly in front of him and came to rest in the centre of the crowded table.

"Wow, James!" said Sirius with admiration. "You managed not to blow it up this year! I guess that means I get to eat off a plate instead of your head!"

They all sat down and once Harry was settled into his highchair, grace was said and the meal commenced with much laughter and reminiscing. Tales of winter wanderings under the moon and stories of boyhood pranks were told between mouthfuls of cranberry sauce and stuffing. Glasses of cider were drained and refilled countless times while jokes and compliments rallied back and forth. Sirius honoured them all with a rowdy chorus of "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs" and they pulled banging wizard crackers while Harry squealed with delight. Every few minutes a sprig of mistletoe magically appeared above Lily's head, resulting in dozens of exaggerated kisses from an eager James and even one or two pecks on the cheek from the others. Baby Harry made his rounds from lap to lap, sampling treats from each different plate with his pudgy fingers and as the evening wore on and the candles melted to stubs, he found himself curled comfortably asleep in Uncle Moony's arms.

Remus smiled fondly down at Harry whose cheeks were rosy as the baked apples they'd had for dessert. His little chest rose and fell with deep sleepy breaths and his fist tightly clutched the remains of a wizard cracker. Remus sighed contentedly and gently hugged the warm bundle just a little bit tighter. He hoped Harry would always feel close to him. He glanced around the table at the glowing, chattering faces of his loved ones and wished this night could last forever. Sirius caught his eye and winked, grinning at his friend, who looked as cosy as baby Harry.

Remus returned the smile, as his mind swirled with drowsy thoughts. It was hard to believe that just a few years ago they were seated like this on benches in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. So much had changed since then...for good and evil. Here they were in the middle of a war and the wizard world seemed to be crumbling around them. He stared at Harry, perfect and beautiful in the golden light of this Christmas Eve and he felt this tiny child had somehow brought hope to them all.

"I think it's time someone went to bed," Lily's voice said softly from across the table.

Sirius chuckled. "Do you mean Harry or Remus?"

"There might be room in the crib for you too, Moony," James teased, then laughed as he yawned himself.

Lily came around beside Remus and tenderly lifted Harry from his arms. Harry didn't even stir and she carried him off to his nursery.

Remus folded his arms across his chest, noticing a sudden cold and empty feeling without baby Harry there...


* * * * *


The chilly sensation jolted Remus back to cruel reality. Harry was gone. His loved ones were gone. All the laughter and joy and Christmas trimmings had disappeared, leaving nothing but a gaping hole, like the mouth of a hungry Dementor...and no amount of wishing could bring them back.

Dementors. Azkaban. He thought of Sirius and the sickening reason his friend was there. Hadn't any of it ever meant anything to him? How could he not look on those memories with the same fondness? Was it even possible for him to fake it all? Remus buried his face in his hands as confusion once again overwhelmed him. None of it made sense.

An ache welled up in Remus' heart and he realized what he wanted more than anything--more than a warm place to call home, more than a full stomach and a steady job, even more than his own dignity. If he could have just one thing for Christmas, it would be this--to know that Sirius was innocent. To know he hadn't really done the terrible things they said he did. To know he was the same old Padfoot he had always been.


* * * * *


The memory of that night whisked away on the salty wind, leaving Sirius void and shivering. He wondered how long it would take until the Dementors stole that memory from him too. How long until they drained him of every happy feeling and recollection he had inside? How long until he was soulless... like everyone thought he was anyway?

Everyone. Moony. If only he'd had a chance to talk to him before being dragged to this horrible place where he was doomed to spend the rest of his unbearable life. His empty belly churned. Did his old friend believe the lies about him? Did Remus honestly think he could betray them all like that? It was bad enough that James and Lily were gone, that Harry was orphaned--nothing could change that--but for Remus to think he'd been the orchestrator of it all...

Sirius slumped against the stone wall, gripping the jagged edge of the window until his filthy nails nearly tore. Searing pain suddenly pierced through the numbness and he realized what he wanted more than anything--more than warmth, more than a full stomach, more than safety from the Dementors, even more than his freedom. If he could have just one thing for Christmas, it would be this--for Remus to know he was innocent. For Remus to know he hadn't really done the terrible things they said he did. For Remus to know he was the same old Padfoot he had always been.


* * * * *


Tears soaked the frayed cuffs of his cloak, tears that were long overdue. Remus cried raw, heaving sobs, until he was completely empty. Finally, after sitting motionless for a time, his frozen eyelashes fluttered, but he saw only blurry light. He rubbed his swollen eyes with unfeeling fingers and blinked up at the sky, but it was still there--brilliant light clouding his vision. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating, until his eyes focused properly and his mind registered what he was seeing.

"Aurora Borealis," he murmured. The name rolled off his tongue as smoothly as a powerful spell. He drew in a long, shaky breath that seemed to fill his insides with a sudden strange wonder, as though a tiny jewel of hope glimmered deep in the cavern of his soul.

Magnificent light, in every hue, pulsated across the black sky. Red, green, blue and yellow, like all the house colours of Hogwarts, danced in harmony. Remus gazed in awe as the mystifying radiance moved and melded in celestial splendour. With each surge of shimmering light, the hope within him glowed and intensified.

Not that he was a hardened skeptic, but Remus had never put much stock in tea leaves or crystal balls and such. This, however, felt different. He was overwhelmed with the sensation that this dazzling display was an extraordinary sign, a reassurance that somehow things would get better. In his darkest hour, the light had come.


* * * * *


Too exhausted to stand, yet lacking the willpower to go and lie down, Sirius swayed with his matted head in his hands. Perhaps he'd freeze to death tonight and it would finally be over. He felt himself slipping and again gripped the window's edge in a delirious effort to support himself. His vacant eyes rolled open and his vision was overwhelmed with swirling colours. He squinted. Was he dreaming? Was he dying? Had the moment finally come? His face wrenched with effort and he blinked again. An especially sharp lash of wind whipped him to lucidity and he realized what he was seeing.

The Northern Lights blazed in the vast expanse of dark sky, rising and falling in iridescent beauty. His thirsty soul drank in the spectacular view with unforeseen delight. Continuously gliding and merging, the great beams of light shot upwards like luminous spells from a million wands, each of them infusing him with an inexplicable strength. He had been so long in the darkness he had forgotten the light existed and yet here it was, shining down on him like a blessing he so desperately needed.

Sirius could not tell how long it lasted, but when the final gossamer strands faded in the sky he was left with the faintest of smiles and a renewed determination. Reluctantly he left the window, his body frozen, but his heart warm. Lying down on the hard floor, Sirius pulled his blanket up to his chin.

"Merry Christmas, Moony," he murmured and then concentrating with his last morsel of energy, he transformed into Padfoot. The scruffy, black dog tucked his paws under his muzzle and within seconds fell asleep.


* * * * *


As the last ethereal sheen disappeared from the sky, like the dissolving of a patronus, Remus smiled softly. Just as baby Harry's laughter, phoenix song, or the dawn after a full moon, the mysterious heavenly lights had instilled him with a resonant hope.

He stretched his aching limbs, then curled up in the meagre pine refuge, using his battered case for a pillow. Images of light and colour flowed through his tired mind, and one last coherent thought surfaced before he felt himself pulled under the waves of slumber. He whispered it into the night...

"Merry Christmas, Padfoot."

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace...