It was a cold, damp night and the fire lit inside Remus' cottage was doing absolutely no good. He sat there, inches from the flames but still felt no warmth. He felt empty, as if all of the happiness he had once had disappeared and there was nothing left but cold. He poked the logs in the fire hoping that the warmth would finally sink into his skin, wishing it would reach into his soul and replace the emptiness with the joy he knew he once had. It wasn't working; the emptiness, the bitterness, the loneliness was far too deep to get rid of. He felt as if every single day he was being held captive by a dementor. He was pretty sure he finally knew what it felt like to be in Azkaban. The cold sank deeper; Azkaban made him think of Sirius and he didn't want Azkaban to be his only reminder of him.
He thought of Sirius for a long time as he sat in front of the fire; he had abandoned the act of stoking the fire, it just wasn't helping. He thought of Sirius's life and how it had been so tragic. He was forced to run away from his family all because he was blessed with a good heart. Sirius had probably only experienced true happiness during his time at Hogwarts, the best seven years Remus had experienced as well. Not long after Hogwarts, Sirius was betrayed by one of his best friends and he was sent to Azkaban as an innocent man. All because of Peter, witches and wizards everywhere, including Remus himself, had been forced to look at Sirius as a two-faced, cold- hearted murderer when they had once called him a friend. Remus wondered how Sirius could have trusted another soul after he had been betrayed by loved ones all his life.
The more he thought about Sirius, the clearer the picture became. He thought of the many adventures they had had and a flicker of warmth rose inside of him. He remembered how many times they had nearly gotten expelled and how they had laughed about it later. He remembered throwing dung bombs at Filch from under the Invisibility cloak and watching him scramble to discover his attacker, while James, Sirius, and Peter stood beside him choking back laughter. He remembered how Padfoot used to run beside him on the night of the full moon. Some nights they would run deep into the forest, racing past creatures they had never known existed. Padfoot would bark and howl with excitement, and this had made Moony feel happy instead of feeling hungry for prey. He thought of how whenever Sirius laughed it usually sounded more like a bark and he thought of how he would never hear it again.
The warm flicker he had felt was now dying away again. He realized that while he had sat there reminiscing, the fire had become only smoldering embers, but it made no difference. Remus felt that he would never feel warmth again; his happiness was disappearing with the fire. He couldn't sit in his cottage anymore. He felt that the cold spreading from the dying fire would smother him. He thought for a minute and then rose from his seat, grabbed his tattered traveling cloak, and headed for the door.
He stepped outside into the freezing mid-winter air; a light snow was falling, dusting the ground. When he exhaled his breath rose in front of him like a wisp of smoke. He walked down the path leading to his front gate leaving footprints in the newly fallen snow. His ears were already growing numb from cold and he was reminded briefly of how his ears used to go numb while running through the forbidden forest with his friends so many years ago. He was now standing outside of his gate, wondering where in the world he was going to go. He needed to be somewhere alone, but he couldn't return to the cottage, he felt it would swallow him up.
He looked across his street at the small patch of woods on the other side and finally got an idea. The Forbidden Forest. Why didn't I think of this before? He didn't know why this was the place to go, but it just felt right to him, deep down he felt he needed to be there. He walked to the small patch of woods to have some cover and apparated to the Forbidden Forest. He could tell he landed somewhere deep in the heart of the forest for there was no falling snow. The trees were thick overhead and it was very dark. He began to walk in the direction he was already facing; he didn't know which direction this was but he had been in the forest so many times that he felt he always knew that he was going in the right direction, whatever the destination.
He had been walking for close to twenty minutes when the snow was coming down around him again and it was getting brighter, he was getting closer to the edge. He was now very cold and his whole body was becoming numb. A sudden movement ahead made him stop. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. What he saw, or what he thought he saw was something very large and black. His mind instantly went to Sirius even though he knew it was a foolish thing to think. Sirius is gone. He's dead. He can never come back. Stop being so ridiculous. He felt a wave of embarrassment rush over him as he listened to the logical part of his brain. It was impossible for Sirius to be running around the Forbidden Forest but he knew that he had half wished he would see Sirius even if it were impossible. Hadn't that been why he had come here anyway? He felt very foolish for he knew this was right, he wanted to glimpse his friend one last time, to say goodbye, and this was the place where Sirius had been the closest to Remus, running by his side, as Padfoot.
He continued to move forward. He figured the thing he had seen was just his imagination and forgot about it. He walked for another twenty minutes before reaching a large structure that was falling apart from old age and hard use. He stood there and stared at the decaying image of the Shrieking Shack. Although he hated what it reminded him of, he still felt some sort of attachment to it, almost as if it were his second home. His first home was of course Hogwarts. He didn't even think about his cottage; that was no home to him. The cottage only represented a shelter to him; there were no happy memories made there to actually call it a home. To him, it is only the place where he sleeps, eats, and breathes. It wasn't a place of warmth; it was a place of loneliness.
He started towards the shack: it's broken and dirty windows were caked with snow. He knew that it would be dark inside and very cold, but it didn't matter, for he was cold enough already. He reached the rusty door and pulled out his wand and muttered a spell that made the door glow bright blue and then fall back to its original rust brown color. The spell had been a reverse Permanent Sticking charm, and only he would be able to reverse it. Years back when he used this place for his monthly transformations, Dumbledore had taught him how to perform this charm so that no one would be able to enter unless he lifted the spell. Of course there was always the Whomping Willow entrance but he doubted that anyone except a certain few would ever know about that.
He crossed the threshold and closed the door behind, sealing the door with the Permanent Sticking Charm once again. He stared into the dark depths of the cold, bare house and muttered "Lumos!" under his breath. His wand tip flared with a bright light that cast eerie shadows on the walls. This was far from frightening to Remus having been in this house so many times. He knew that he was the only person who ever haunted this place and he also felt that if there was someone hiding in here waiting to strike, then he wouldn't bother to fight. He was far too lost in his own misery and self-pity to fight for anything anymore. He wasn't sure what was right or wrong or even if there was anything left for him to fight for. What's happened to you, Remus? he thought to himself. You used to be Mr. Optimistic. Everything happened for a reason. He smiled wryly at himself.
Yeah, but everything always happens to Me. he thought bitterly back to himself.
He was now climbing the stairs, his wand tip still alight and his feet leaving footprints on the dusty floor. He climbed higher and higher, not really positive about what he would do once he reached the top but determined to get there anyway. As he reached the landing, he halted, staring at the large closed door at the end of the narrow and crooked hallway. There was a thin line of light underneath the door, a flickering light. He stood thinking for a minute, pondering his next move and wondering whom in the world would be up here in the middle of the night, and on such a cold night at that. He moved closer to the door until his ear was pressed against the cold wood, listening hard. All he could hear was the crackling of fire. He decided to enter. Wand poised and ready to strike, he gently nudged open the door, which let out a loud creak, and jumped inside.