Ends May Bring Peace
Class had been grueling that day, and it was only lunchtime. They were forced to weather an excruciatingly long period of History of Magic in which Professor Binns droned on about something that no student could remember. Transfiguration had them transfiguring everything in sight into a furry creature. They had just come from Care of Magical Creatures, covered in snow, dirt and slime after chasing escaped Flobberworms. The boys were convinced the worms must have been on sugar to move as fast as they had. They could at least enjoy their lunch before trudging off to Defence Against the Dark Arts and learn about Hinkypunks. They were confident that would be somewhat interesting. The only bright spot aside from Defence Against the Dark Arts was that it was a Friday; they would be free after the final bell.
“My head hurts,” Sirius whined, pouring large spoonfuls of steaming stew into his plate.
“My knees are killing me,” James moaned, rubbing his knees. He looked at Remus and Peter. “What about you two? Anything about to die on you?”
“My ears,” Peter told him.
Remus gave him a funny look. “Your ears?”
“A grasshopper attacked me outside.” Peter wondered how there could possibly be a grasshopper out in all that snow.
“Oh… okay.” He glanced around the table, seeing what he was hungry for. “Well, my back is killing me.”
“Why are all the teachers being so brutal today?” James wondered, before stuffing a roll of bread into his mouth.
Sirius swallowed. “Binns wasn’t brutal, he was just boring.”
“McGonagall was merciless. You can’t deny that.”
“I suppose he couldn’t, Mr. Potter.”
James jumped at the sound of Professor McGonagall’s voice behind him. This was too typical. When he looked up, however, he saw that she was not looking mad, or even wearing her usual stern expression. In an attempt to cover up what he had said, he cracked a smile and took on his gentleman façade.
“Hullo, Professor McGonagall.”
“James,” she said simply. James raised an eyebrow at Sirius. She hadn’t called him Potter. That was odd. Instead, she turned her attention to Remus, who suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable. He hadn’t done anything to warrant a talking-to from his professor, or at least he was fairly certain that he hadn’t. What did she want with him? “Remus, would you come with me?”
Remus picked up his bag and confusedly followed the Transfiguration teacher out of the Great Hall.
“What was that about?” Sirius asked when the two were gone.
“She called me James. She never does that.”
“And she looked sad,” Peter told them. “We’ll find out what happened in our next class.”
But Peter was wrong. They did not find out what had made Professor McGonagall seem so sad, because Remus was not in Defence Against the Dark Arts. They spent the entire period wondering where their friend could be, rather than focusing on the Hinkypunk that Professor Handlin was showing them. James had actually been looking forward to this lesson, so he could finally discover what a Hinkypunk was after the disastrous quiz during first year in which he had claimed that they were creatures who resembled miniature ponies. Try as they might, they could do nothing to help their concentration. It came as a relief when the final bell rang and they immediately dashed for Gryffindor Tower.
When they entered the boys’ dormitory they saw Remus crouched down beside his bed, emptying the books out of his bag and filling it with clothes instead. He looked bewildered, shocked. He didn’t hear his friends enter, nor did he seem to notice that Frank was repeatedly asking him if anything was the matter before declaring defeat and heading down to dinner. It took the combined efforts of his three roommates to break him out of his state and get him to acknowledge any of them. However, he only looked at them for a split second before returning to his packing. James grabbed Remus’s wrist as he was shoving one of his shirts into his bag.
“What happened?”
“I-I have to go home,” Remus said quickly, in a strange voice. He sounded confused, as if he had no idea where he was or what exactly his home was.
“Why?” Sirius asked, sitting down on his bed.
“I “ McGonagall said I have to.”
“Why?” Peter asked, sitting beside Sirius.
“Got a letter from my dad… said for me to come home right away.”
“Did he say why?” James asked patiently. Remus had a habit of going around in circles before he actually came out and told them what was bothering him.
Remus ceased his packing and stared at the floor. Then, as though he was getting himself to admit something terrible, which he was, he said, “Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“My grandparents died today.” Having gotten the worst over, he continued to furiously pack.
James, Sirius and Peter glanced at each other. They knew this was coming, but they knew Remus was not prepared for it. No one was ever ready to hear that someone they had loved was dead, let alone two loved ones.
“Wow… we’re sorry,” Sirius finally said.
Remus seemed not to hear him. “Have to go home… Dad’s upset… Mum needs me… They’re dead.” He didn’t appear to be able to grasp the situation. It was true that it had only been within the past two years that he had actually developed a real relationship with his grandparents, they had always been there. He couldn’t deny that they had been frightened of what he was since he was bitten, but that never stopped them from visiting on Christmas and on his birthdays before he started school. He could hardly begin to start imagining life without them. He didn’t want to; he was only just starting to get to know them. Why did they have to be taken away?
Not knowing what else to say, Peter settled for asking, “When are you going home?”
“In an hour. Dumbledore wants me at his office.” He zipped shut his bag. “They still don’t even know what killed my grandpa. They don’t know anything…”
“The Healers must’ve tried,” James reassured him. His father told him that the Healers always tried to find out what happened, even if they were unsuccessful in the end.
“I know they did, but he still died.” He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. It looked as if it was causing him a great deal of effort to maintain his composure. “Merlin, there’s a bloody full moon tomorrow!” In light of what he had only just discovered, the impending full moon slipped his mind completely.
“Do you want one of us to go with you?” James offered. James was sure that anything, even the death of a family member, could be made more bearable if there was a friend there.
“You don’t have to,” Remus told him, though he sounded as though he very much liked that idea. “I’ll be fine.”
“Come on, Remus. I’ll go with you. Your mum will probably need help around the house and you won’t be up to doing it and your dad won’t be either.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t, but I’m going to anyway.”
“Evans! Hey, Evans! Lily!”
“What, Black?”
“Can you come here for a minute?”
Sirius and Peter were sitting out in the courtyard, poring over their Transfiguration book in an attempt to find the answers to the homework. James and Remus had been gone since the previous night, after Remus had asked Professor Dumbledore’s and his mother’s approval for James to accompany him home. They didn’t need help with the homework when they saw Lily walking by, but Sirius had promised Remus that he would tell Lily to forget about the tutoring session they had planned. The red head, looking exasperated, went to the boys.
“I don’t have the answers to the homework,” she said when she met them and saw what they were doing.
“That’s not what we were going to ask,” Peter assured her.
“What is it, then?”
“Cancel your tutoring session with Remus tonight,” Sirius said.
“Why? He’s not feeling ill again, is he?” A number of times Remus had asked her to cancel their lessons because he was feeling under the weather. Never, however, had he not been there to tell her himself.
“He is feeling a bit ill, but he’s gone home,” Peter told her.
“How come?”
Sirius frowned. “His grandparents died yesterday. He’s gone home to be with his parents. James went with him.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Oh… well, okay. When you talk to him, tell him I’m so sorry.”
Sirius smiled slightly and nodded. “Definitely.”
Lily hesitated for a moment. “Is he okay?”
“He will be,” Peter assured her. “Once the shock wears off.”
“Was he close with them?”
“Not until recently. That’s the worst of it, I think.”
Lily bit her bottom lip. “Be sure to give him my message.” She adjusted the strap on her bag and continued on her way through the courtyard. Sirius and Peter watched her go and only once her red hair was no longer visible did they go back to their work. They couldn’t help but wonder what was going on at the Lupin house; they hoped James was doing his best to help Remus and his parents. Sirius and Peter knew he was trying; James would never go back on his word to help if it involved his friends.
“This is a wonderful cake, James.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Lupin.”
“Where’d you learn to bake?”
“Willie taught me that when I was ten.” He turned on the faucet and began cleaning everything he had tossed in the sink while he was preparing the cake. “There’s more over there if anyone wants it.”
“Thank you, James.”
The Lupin house was, naturally, subdued. James was in the kitchen with Remus and Mrs. Lupin, who had plates of James’s chocolate cake in front of them. James was not an expert on cheering people up after the death of a loved one, but he did know one thing “ cake made any situation better. He was suddenly eternally grateful for the week Willie had kept him in the kitchen, patiently teaching him how to bake a cake. Mrs. Lupin and Remus were faring better than Mr. Lupin. James had only seen him once since they arrived.
Mr. Lupin was waiting by the fireplace for the arrival of his son and his son’s friend. He greeted them, Remus with a sad hug and James with a gentle clap on the shoulder, and had disappeared into his study. He had not come out since. Remus had gone in earlier that morning to check on him, but didn’t stay too long. His father wanted to be alone, he had to respect that. Both boys knew that Mr. Lupin was close with his parents, even after they had shortened their visits ten years previous, after their only grandson was bitten by a werewolf. Nothing could destroy the bond of a child and their parents, unless it had been destroyed before it had a chance to be created.
It was now mid-afternoon and Mr. Lupin had still not appeared. James knew he was going to come out eventually; it would not be long before Remus had to go to the shed for his transformation. James involuntarily shivered at the thought; he wanted nothing more than to already know how to turn into an Animagus. He knew Remus’s transformation was going to be worse than the previous month’s, and that had been the worst they had seen in a long time. Mr. Lupin was aware of this, he would come out.
“Here, I’ll take that,” James offered when he saw that Remus was not going to finish his piece of cake. He had snatched it up before Remus even had a chance to react.
“I think I’ll go check on your father,” Mrs. Lupin said to Remus, standing up and edging towards the hallway.
“James, you don’t have to clean all that up,” Remus said when he saw the mess in the sink.
“That’s what I’m here for,” James reminded him.
“I wish my dad would come out here,” Remus said, choosing not to remark on what James had told him.
“He needs time, you know that.”
“Yeah, but he shouldn’t be by himself either. He always told me that worst thing you could do when you were upset is to hide out from everyone else.”
“Never stopped you from doing that.”
“I don’t listen to everything my parents tell me.”
“That sounds like a good bit of advice to take, though.”
Remus gritted his teeth. “My dad should follow it then.”
James dried off the dish he had finished washing and set it on the counter. He knew this was Remus’s way of venting his frustration about what had happened, his way of grieving. “Listen, you know your dad is just trying to get through this the best he can.”
“I know he is.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “It just isn’t fair.”
James didn’t really know what to say to this, the truth was coming out. “Don’t you think it might be better this way?”
“That they’re dead?” Remus sounded incredulous.
“That came out wrong… What I meant was, don’t you think it’s better that they’re not in pain anymore? That they never will be again?”
Remus sighed, running a hand over his face. “You’re probably right. They can’t get sick anymore.” He glanced over his shoulder, out the window. The full moon would rise in only a few hours, he didn’t want to do it.
James saw what Remus was looking at, though there was no moon in the sky. He knew that tonight he would discover why Sirius was so determined to become an Animagus. James knew the transformations were bad, but he had never seen his friend just as they were ending. “You’ll be okay. You’ve been fine all day.”
Remus shrugged. He hadn’t felt ill all day, which was a first. He knew that the lack of illness was due to his concern for his father. It was only a matter of time; however, that he would feel it and it would be at the worst possible moment. That’s why he wished his dad was there. And with thinking of that he was reminded of how his grandfather had come after the New Year full moon in his first year, ready to help him. “Whenever I transformed home, after first year, my grandpa would come and help me. He used to be a Healer. That was why my dad tried becoming a Healer, before he decided that he liked teaching and writing better.”
“You know, I could ask my dad to come here before he goes to work,” James offered. He knew his father could never deny the opportunity to help someone when they were hurt.
Remus, though he appreciated the offer, didn’t want to put Mr. Potter out. “Your dad’s busy… he doesn’t have to.”
James didn’t further the question, but he was going to send an owl to his father regardless of Remus’s answer.
James now knew exactly why Sirius got so impassioned whenever it came time to practise becoming an Animagus. James had never before heard anything so terrible, so… he could barely think of words to describe it. All he knew was that he never wanted to hear it again. Remus was only thirteen; he didn’t deserve to have to go through that every month. James had sat up in Remus’s room, trying vainly to go to sleep and block out his friend’s howls, but it was impossible. They were too loud, too violent. He knew Mrs. Lupin was awake, sitting in the downstairs, listening, defeated, to her son’s howls. James knew that this transformation was going to be bad, especially when Mr. Lupin did not emerge to help Remus to the shed.
It came as a relief when James opened his eyes and saw the morning sun blaring through the window above Remus’s empty bed. He heard stirring coming from downstairs and saw, when he looked over the railing, that his father was coming out of the fireplace, quietly greeting Remus’s mother. James pulled on his socks and dashed down the stairs.
“I’m so sorry, Anna,” Mr. Potter was saying.
“Thank you, Charles. And thank you for coming to help Remus. I knew he was going to have a bad night.”
“That’s what James said when he wrote me. Where’s Harry?”
“Sleeping, I think. I was out here all night.”
Mr. Potter nodded knowingly. He led Mrs. Lupin out onto the snow covered grounds, James following, hastily pulling on his shoes. The shed was in the backyard, surrounded by two feet of snow. Mrs. Lupin and James had worked hard digging a path around the structure, so they could open the door, but the night’s snow had piled up in front of the door. James stepped forward and pulled on the door, trying to force it through the stubborn snow. Mr. Potter placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. Mr. Potter waved his wand and the snow melted away, allowing the door to open easily.
They were met with Remus’s groans of pain when the sunlight hit his pale, bloodied and bruised face. James glanced at his father and saw that he looked sick. This somewhat surprised James; his father must have seen worse at St. Mungo’s. Then again, he had never really gone too far into the werewolf wards. He must have only seen a recovering werewolf a few times. Even if he had seen it numerous times, it never would get easy. Mr. Potter fell down to his knees, pulling out his wand and conjuring up a jar full of blue flames to warm himself and Remus.
“Good morning, Remus,” he said quietly, running his wand across a gash on the boy’s face.
Remus could say nothing, he only watched as Mr. Potter tried to mend his wounds. He bit back a cry as James’s father moved his arm up and down, checking to see what was wrong with it.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Potter apologised. “I know it hurts.”
James felt sick, he couldn’t watch anymore. He spun around, intending to run to the house, but only ran into Harry Lupin. Mr. Lupin’s eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them. He had not slept at all. He easily saw what James was thinking when he started running.
“It’s hard to see.” He watched as Charles bound Remus’s arm up so it would be still while he tackled the other injuries. Breaking his gaze away, he looked down at James. “Thank you for coming, it means a lot.”
The funeral was quiet, held the morning after so Remus could spend time recovering. Gabriella and John Lupin were buried in a Muggle cemetery, as had been the request of Gabriella, who wanted to be with her family when she died. John, who was not on good terms with his own family before their death, did not object when they had written it out in their wills. It was a grey morning, fitting of the affair, with a soft breeze that ruffled the grass surrounding the new gravestones. The priest read quietly from a small prayer book, looking up briefly at times to acknowledge the family. The Lupins, joined by the Potters, watched mutely as the caskets were lowered into the ground when the priest finished.
The two families lingered in their spots before beginning to head to the Ministry cars Mrs. Potter had arranged for them. Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Lupin walked together, talking in hushed voices, James and his father following behind. When James noticed that two members of the group were not following, he looked over his shoulder and saw Remus hovering behind his father, who had not moved from his place.
“Remus?” he said uncertainly.
Remus nodded for James to go on, pointing with his free arm at his father, indicating that they would catch up. When James and Mr. Potter entered the car, Remus approached his own father, unsure exactly what he wanted to say. His father was standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the open holes in the ground, through which the two caskets had disappeared.
“Dad?” he said, breaking his father out of his reverie.
“They were good people, Remus,” Harry said in a tone that Remus could not distinguish.
“I know they were.”
“I know they weren’t here for a lot of your life, but that doesn’t make them bad people.”
“They were here at the end, that’s what matters.”
“They still loved you… They loved us all.”
Remus was beginning to suspect that his father was talking to himself more than he was his son. Remus knew it bothered his father that his own parents willingly did not come around as much as they could have. He was doing his best to convince himself that they had loved him, that they loved his wife, and that they loved his son. “I know they did, Dad. You don’t have to remind me… and you don’t have to remind yourself either.”
Harry sighed. “I know I don’t.”
“Come on, Mum’s waiting.”
Remus led his father around the other gravestones, pausing only a moment to look back at the ones they had left behind. His grandparents had lived seventy long years; they had had the opportunity to do many things they wanted. It was their time. James was right; they would no longer be in pain. His grandparents were happy.