There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
Down a dark, deserted lane in Diagon Alley there was a pub. A kind man might call the pub dingy. An honest man would call it a hellhole. The pub’s name was the Green Goblet. The sign looked like it was being held on by a thread. A passerby might not even notice there were windows because they were so covered with the grim that had built up over the ages.
Inside the pub, there was very little dim lighting. It was not loud or filled with boisterous people as most popular pubs tend to be filled. Instead, it had a few tables of people speaking quietly, a few silent men drinking at the bar, and a quiet little bar tender cleaning mugs. Each man had his own story that had brought him into this little pub. Each his own sad story, but we are concerned with only one man, with only one story.
The man sat with his head down at a table in the darkest corner of the room. He surrounded by empty bottles of fire whiskey and clutched an almost empty bottle in his left hand. No one sat in any of the tables around him. Perhaps it was because they thought sitting by such an ill-fated man would cause them more sorrow. Perhaps it was because these men still had hope that tomorrow would be a better day, so they still sat in the little sun that entered the grimy windows. The latter suggestion is, in my humble opinion, the truer.
So our man sat by himself in the darkest corner of the pub drowning in his sorrows. He looked as though old age had come upon him prematurely. Perhaps a month ago he had been young and vigorous, but now his hair was thinning and his skin had become an unbecoming shade of gray that comes when a man goes too long without seeing the light of day. A few gray hairs had begun to appear throughout his sandy blonde hair.
So how, one might ask, did this man become so forlorn? What circumstances had stolen hope from his life? What terrible tragedy had this man experienced? We could guess for years and never now. The truth can only be known if we jump into this man’s conscious and listen to his thought as he thinks them.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about `tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.
From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lonely barricade at dawn.
Remus closed his eyes. He knew he was drunk, and he knew he was disappointed. Five fire whiskeys and he could still remember everything. Day after day, he tried to replace his memories with fire whiskey, and day after day Remus was disappointed.
He could still see their faces. Remus could still hear their voices. He could hear them laughing as though they were sitting there with him.
“To revolution,” said Sirius lifting his mug of butter beer.
“To the end of Voldemort’s reign,” said James also lifting his mug.
“To a safe world for Harry to live in,” said Lily laughing.
“To the Order of the Phoenix,” whispered Remus.
Peter giggled nervously and lifted up his own mug.
There was a clanking of mugs and the laughter of friends. “Can you imagine that in a month’s time this whole thing could be over?” whispered Lily.
James put his arm around his wife and smiled. James smiled whenever he touched Lily as though he still couldn’t believe that Lily was his. “Darling, we all know the plan. Dumbledore has it all worked out. By the end of November this mess will be over.”
“I’m so scared,” whispered Lily looking down at her mug. “Why must you, Sirius, and Remus be so involved.”
“Lily, don’t worry about us,” said Sirius, “we aren’t even going to be involved in the attacks. We’re simply getting information, but if you’re worried I’ll watch out for Jamsie.”
James and Remus laugh, but Lily looked at Sirius then Remus and said, “I’m not just worried for James.”
James grabbed Lily’s hands, “Lily darling don’t worry everything is going to work out perfectly I promise.”
“I believe you. I just have this feeling that the end is closer than we know,” Lily whispered.
Remus laughed, “You’re right, Lily, the war will be over in just a few days. Then we’ll be sitting in here again laughing about how you are the greatest Seer to ever live.”
Everyone laughed because it was common knowledge that Lily did not have a high opinion of either divination or Seers. “That will happen the same day Sirius goes to Azkaban,” laughed James. Peter giggled nervously.
Lily looked at her watch and said, “Oh James, we have to get Harry. I’m sure Alice is quite tired of taking care of Neville and Harry by now.”
“Yes,” said James with a smile, “Our little Harry has a mischievous streak. A marauder in the making.”
“Will you be taking him out for Halloween tomorrow night?” asked Peter.
“Oh no,” said Lily quietly, “You know how it is Peter. Dumbledore didn’t even want us leaving the house today.” Peter nodded.
First Lily and James left. Then Peter left. Sirius stood to leave when he looked at Remus. “I worry about James, Lily, and Harry, mate.”
“So do I,” replied Remus, “I don’t like them leaving their house like this. You should really talk to them Sirius as their secret keeper.”
Sirius mumbled in the affirmative then left. Remus sat by himself for a moment before leaving.
That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.
Three days. It had been only three days since the last time all five of them had been together. Now where were they? Lily and James were dead and buried. Peter was dead with too little left to be buried. Sirius was on his way to Azkaban. And he, Remus, was a mess.
Remus wondered, not for the first time, if Lily really had been a Seer. She had wondered if the war would be over sooner. She had felt that everything not would turn out perfectly all right. She had sensed that everything would not go as they had planned. Now it was over. Now Voldemort had been defeated. Now the Order of the Phoenix had won. Now everyone he knew, everyone he loved was dead. Now Remus wished he was dead.
Remus felt tears welling up in his eyes. Remus had never cried or wished he was dead. Not when he was bitten by the werewolf, or when he thought his friend would ditch him because they had discovered his secret.
All the various pain and hurt in his life vanished. It was covered by the pain which was his now. Blanketed by the grief that he would live with forever. He looked at the tables around him where his friends had once laughed and joked.
Remus threw one of the bottles at an empty table with his right hand. Everyone in the pub looked over at him then looked away. No one wanted to look at the man who had lost everything. Remus put his head back down.
Remus didn’t know why he had survived. He would have traded his life with any of the others. Had James and Lily lived they would have taken care of Harry. They would have mourned, but moved on with their lives. He would have died if it would have prevented Sirius from being the traitor. Then only Remus would be dead and his friend could have mourned together.
Even little Peter would have been a better survivor. Remus should have been the one to confront Sirius. Maybe then no one would have died, but poor Peter never stood a chance. Peter was never much of a wizard. Never much of a friend.
Remus was horrified had he really thought such a though about a dead friend. Remus only repented for a moment before he was honest with himself again. Peter never had been a great friend. He was always gone and never very involved with the other four.
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.
Remus heard the door of the pub open, but didn’t look up. Whoever it was would see him back in the corner and look at him with pity. Then this newcomer would go sit at the bar or join the whispering men and forget Remus.
Remus was surprised when a familiar voice said, “Good afternoon Remus. I see you have been drinking.”
Remus didn’t even look up. “‘Afternoon Professor Dumbledore,” slurred Remus.
“Drinking won’t make anything better, Remus. They are dead. There aren’t enough Fire Whiskies in the world to make you forget,” said Dumbledore soothingly.
“It’s not fair. They were all better suited to live than I. Why did I survive? Why did they die?” asked Remus.
“I do not know Remus. All I know is that fate is not done with you. There something left for you to do,” said Dumbledore.
“What is left? The war is over. Voldemort is dead. What else is there to fight for?” asked Remus despairingly.
“Voldemort is not dead, Remus. He was defeated, but where is his body. His soul is still out there and Harry is still in danger,” said Dumbledore.
“Are you telling me my friends died in vain?” asked Remus.
“No,” said Dumbledore, “they died for Harry.”
“What is so important about Harry? He is only a baby. What can be important about an infant?” asked Remus.
“You might be surprised, Remus. This infant is going to defeat Voldemort permanently. He is the reason Lily and James had to hide. There is a prophesy Remus. Harry will end Voldemort’s reign forever,” whispered Dumbledore.
Remus was quiet for a moment and then said, “That’s great Dumbledore, but if Harry is so powerful what use is there for me?”
“Harry is not powerful yet. He will require help to gain the power that he will need to defeat Voldemort. One day you will have to come back into his life and teach him everything you know. You will have something for fight for. For now learn how to defend yourself from the dark arts, travel the world, lie low, and most importantly come to terms with your grief,” said Dumbledore more loudly.
For the first time Remus looked into Dumbledore’s eyes, “I will do what I can. I will travel the world and fill my emptiness with knowledge for Harry. When you call me to help, I will be there. I will live for Harry’s sake,” said Remus courageously.
Dumbledore smiled and took his leave. Remus looked at the bottle of Fire Whiskey in his hand. Remus put it to his lip then sat the bottle down again. It was time to be a man and to face his grief. Remus walked out of the pub pondering where he would go first to learn everything about defense against the dark arts.
Dumbledore watched him walk down the street into the sunlight. Dumbledore knew Remus would live to fight another day. Remus had survived the most painful battle. Dumbledore had no doubt that Remus would survive to play an important role in the battles that would inevitably come.