He smiled as he thought about Harry. So like James, willing to tackle anything, yet he didn’t have the same cockiness. “I don’t think you’d be disappointed, Prongs,” he muttered to the air. “Your son is a boy to be proud of.”
“If strutting around the corridors of Hogwarts as if he owns the place is something to be proud of,” came a discordant voice from the door, “then Potter would obviously be delighted with his son.”
Remus closed his eyes and let Snape’s voice drift over him. He didn’t look up but merely added in a mild voice, “I was thinking that James would be proud of how like Lily Harry is. He has the same thirst to prove himself that she had. I always thought that came from her being a Muggle-born.”
There was a silence and then Remus heard the staff room door shut. He looked up and found he was alone again. Sighing, he returned to his marking. Hermione’s work was exceptional. He’d asked for a brief summary of the Boggart chapter “ yet she’d expanded her paragraphs into an essay which delved into their history. You’d have had a hard time keeping up with her, Lily, and she would have been too serious for us.
And that was another difference between Harry and his father. The Marauders would no sooner have let a girl into their gang, than Snivellus Snape.
“What are you smiling at, Remus?”
He looked up to see Charity Burbage, arms full of books and her rather wispy hair escaping from a plait.
“Old friends,” he replied softly. He stood up. “Here, let me help you with those books.”
Gratefully, Charity handed over some of the books and then followed him to the hearthside.
“Would you like tea?” he said as he levitated a small kettle from the flames. She nodded and waited whilst he poured it.
“I think there’re some biscuits in that tin over there,” she said, pointing to the small rosewood table in the far corner, before adding mischievously, “Although Minerva has probably eaten all the shortbread by now.”
“Prof... I mean, Minerva always liked Ginger Newts in my day,” Remus replied.
Charity giggled. “You sound like me two years ago,” she said. Remus shot her a puzzled look. “I couldn’t call my former teachers by their first names “ it was unthinkable. And then, Filius invited me for a cup of tea in his study and told me how hard his first year had been when he’d had to call his old Potions teacher ‘Horace.’ After that, I relaxed “ although Minerva McGonagall still scares the living daylights out of me at times.”
“I think in my case it’s because I was on her wrong side in too many detentions,” Remus said sighing, “but she’s been very welcoming “ in fact everyone has “ just about.”
Charity giggled again and leant in conspiratorially. “Except for dear Severus, eh? Well, you can’t really blame him for that, can you?”
Remus blushed. “You ... um ... know our history, I take it.”
“I was at school when you were, Remus. Oh, you won’t remember me. I was a first year in Hufflepuff when you were in your last year. The four of you were notorious. Lupin, Pettigrew, Potter and “” She stopped abruptly.
“Black,” finished Remus after a while. “Yes, I was friends with him at Hogwarts.” He turned back to his marking. “And you’re right; given our history I don’t think Snape and I will ever be friends.”
“Perhaps you could start by calling him Severus,” Charity replied mildly. “You might find he prefers it to Snape or ... what was it you called him at school?”
“Snivelly,” Remus muttered shamefacedly. “And, no, I’m not particularly proud of it.”
At the Halloween feast, Remus found himself sat between Charity and Septima Vector, the Arithmancy Professor. She was a small, ash blonde haired witch with delicate features, but she had a rather disconcerting habit of leaning in very closely when he was speaking and also laughing a little too brightly at his jokes. Charity looked rather discomforted by her presence and was silent throughout the meal.
“What did you do today, Remus?” Septima asked. “With most of the students in Hogsmeade, I expected to see you in the staff room, that’s where we congregate to relax.”
“Oh,” he replied as he helped himself to more pumpkin pie. “I was in my study most of the afternoon.”
“Alone?” Septima asked, raising one eyebrow.
Remus noticed that Charity had stopped talking to Filius on her other side and was straining to listen in. “No, I was talking to one of the students,” he said, “and taking delivery of a Grindylow for my class.”
Septima frowned slightly and leant towards him. “It’s not really a good idea to get too close to the students. I find a professional distance is always the best approach “ otherwise you’ll find they never leave you alone.”
“It was Harry Potter,” replied Remus, “and I don’t mind at all if he wants to talk.”
“What do you think of our Mr Potter?” asked Filius. “I must admit I was dreading his arrival “ quite convinced I’d have another James on my hands “ combined with the trouble the Weasley twins give me, I think I’d have taken very early retirement.”
“Were we that bad?” Remus grinned at his old Charms teacher.
“Yes, you were, Remus, you know it. But rewarding in the end “ always rewarding. Very sad...” Filius stopped talking and Remus knew why.
A sudden memory floated into his head of the four of them in a Charms lesson. Sirius setting light to something because he couldn’t be bothered to listen, James putting it out with Aguamenti and soaking Lily, who’d been sitting in front of them, in the process. Peter had been desperately trying not to laugh; Remus, too, had been beside himself with laughter and also panic, because surely this time they’d gone too far. They’d been second years and Lily had coolly turned round, pointed her wand at James and levitated an ink pot at him.
Remus looked at Filius again, aware he was talking. “Sorry, Filius, what did you say?”
“I was asking whether you thought he was more like Lily or James -- in character, I mean.”
Remus looked across at Harry who was eating more pudding and joking with his friends. He looks so happy, so safe here. I won’t let Black get to him, Prongs. I’d rather die than let that happen, Lily.
“A blend of both, I think,” he murmured. He took a slug of mead; it was rich and sent his senses reeling.
“Are you all right?” asked Charity.
He heard the concern in her voice and smiled grimly because he knew she would find the next thing he said repellent.
“I don’t think mead and Wolfsbane are a good combination,” he replied wryly.
“Oh,” said Charity, looking startled. “I ... err ... hadn’t realised.”
Here it comes, he thought. She’ll turn away and start to talk to Filius again. He decided to leave and have an early night “ Merlin knew he needed it.
“Does it always affect you like this?” she asked and Remus was struck by the compassion “ or was it pity? “ in her eyes.
“I’m not sure. This is only the second month I’ve taken Wolfsbane. I should ask Sna ... Severus really.” He looked around at the Great Hall. Students were finishing their meals and he could see Harry laughing at something the Weasley twins were saying. “I think I should probably go to bed, Charity.”
“Remus, the night is young.” Septima’s voice cut across them both. She lowered her voice, “I wondered whether you’d like a shot or two of Firewhisky. I have a bottle in my rooms somewhere. After all, you’re not on duty tonight, unlike dear Charity.”
“That’s very kind of you, Septima,” replied Charity. Remus wondered whether he was imagining an edge to her voice. “But Remus isn’t feeling very well.” She stood up with him. “Would you like me to walk you back?”
“No,” he said hurriedly. Her face fell and he realised he must have sounded irritable. “Thank you for the concern, Charity, but I’m fine.” He turned to Septima. “I don’t think Firewhisky is a good idea at the moment, but thank you.”
“Another time?” Septima suggested.
Remus could feel his head spinning and just nodded at her. Making his way to the door, he saw Snape eyeing him suspiciously. He wondered whether to ask him about the wisdom of mixing alcohol and Wolfsbane, but Snape did not look at his most approachable, so Remus turned the other way and went to his set of rooms.
It had been three years ago, just before the Quidditch match where Tonks had broken James’ record and then been felled by a Bludger, that Professor Dumbledore had asked Remus if he’d like to return to Hogwarts. Remus had demurred, but Albus had told him his experience would be valuable “ especially to someone like Harry. When Remus had protested again that he had no experience of teaching, Albus had advised him to learn ‘practically’, to spend time abroad and at the same time keep an eye out for any rumours regarding a resurgence of dark magic enclaves.
He looked about his room. Sparsely furnished, because he had so few possessions, Remus nonetheless felt settled here and knew it was because he was back where he’d felt happiest. Walking over to his bookshelf, he pulled down a photo album. There were gaps on some of the pages; the photographs he’d torn out of Black after his betrayal would not be filled by others, and then there were spaces where precious photographs of James and Lily had been. He remembered the owl Hagrid had sent requesting pictures for Harry, and he’d given up several, including their wedding day.
“Should I have handed that over?” he’d asked Albus later. “It had Black in it. Perhaps I should have tried to erase him.” He paused as he recalled the day. “They were both so happy. You could see Lily’s delight that day as if it were tangible ... I couldn’t bear to alter the photograph in case her essence was destroyed. Does that make sense, Albus?”
And Dumbledore had replied, “You were right not to erase him, Remus. Harry will discover his duplicity some day, and it is best he realises that not every person who smiles fondly is a friend.”
There were other photos in the album, not from school, but later, and his eye was caught by one of a couple simply holding hands. “Your son is a wonderful boy, Frank,” he said, and he laughed as he remembered Neville’s Boggart. “He just needs a cauldron load of confidence “ like Wormy did -- and then he’ll do well.”
He could feel the Wolfsbane beginning to take effect; in the nights before the full moon, it had a powerful soporific effect when the waxing moon was in the sky. It was nine o’clock but he was exhausted. Wearily, he staggered to his bed and slept.
An hour later, he was awakened by the sound of hammering on his door.
“LUPIN!” bellowed the voice of Severus Snape. “Get out here, NOW.”
Barely able to open his eyes, Remus unlocked his door.
Snape’s face contorted with rage. “Where is he?”
“Who?” asked Remus in surprise as he reached around the door to a side table where he’d placed his wand.
“As if you need telling,” spat Snape. He withdrew his wand and held it to Remus’ face. “I told Dumbledore you weren’t to be trusted, but he would not be told. Where is he?”
Although confused, Remus was starting to get angry now. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who am I supposed to be hiding in here?” He looked into at Snape and saw a blaze of anger flicker in his coal black eyes. And then he understood. “What’s happened?” he asked, not wanting the answer. “Is it Black?”
Snape looked at him closely, and then he lowered his wand. “He found a way into the castle and slashed the Gryffindor portrait.” He turned away adding curtly, “Dumbledore wants to see you in his study.”
Still aching with tiredness, Remus dragged himself to Albus’ study.
“Remus, sit down, would you,” Dumbledore began. “I believe Severus has appraised you of the situation.”
Remus nodded and sat down on one of the chairs by the desk. “It’s true then, Albus. Black’s been here.”
“Yes,” replied Dumbledore grimly, “Peeves has given a credible eyewitness account and you know as well as I do, that Peeves would recognise Black easily. He was a memorable student “ you all were.”
Remembering the welcome Peeves had given him when he’d returned as a professor, Remus smiled wryly because the poltergeist had been a party to some of their most memorable escapades. But now was not the time to become nostalgic. He looked across at the Headmaster. “Albus, how can I help?”
Dumbledore was silent as he collected his thoughts. “Remus, I do not know how Black got into the castle. There are Dementors stationed around the grounds. There are Aurors in Hogsmeade. It is inconceivable that the most recognised man in the wizarding world could have got passed them.”
“Headmaster... Albus,” interrupted Remus. “I have not been helping Black. I swear I have no idea where he is.”
Dumbledore lifted a hand to silence him. “Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that you were in league with him. I merely need to know if there is anything I should know about Black that you have not told me before.”
Remus looked away. He’s an Animagus, he knew he should say. He can turn into a big black dog, Albus, but the reason I haven’t told you is ... Merlin, there is no reason except that I’m a coward who doesn’t want to admit that my lycanthropy led my three friends into becoming illegal Animagi.
“Did he study any branches of Dark Magic that you haven’t mentioned before, Remus?” the Headmaster persisted.
Inwardly sighing with relief because he did not have to lie, Remus looked into Albus’ eyes. “Not that I am aware of. He was always passionately against the Dark Arts -- we all were.”
“And you cannot think of anyone who would have helped him escape?”
The sudden image of Tonks in pink-haired fury as she declared her utter loyalty to her cousin leapt into his mind. “No!” he said vehemently. “She didn’t know he’d esca “” He stopped abruptly, aware he’d said too much.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Remus, this is the second time tonight that you have misunderstood me. I do not believe Nymphadora is involved in this. I merely wondered if there were any other friends of his who would be sympathetic to his cause.”
Remus did not ask how Dumbledore knew he’d been thinking of Tonks. He was aware that the older man was a Legilimens; although Remus knew the rudiments of Occlumency, it was clearly not adequate to block out her image.
“There is no one, Albus,” he said wearily. “At school and in the Order, Black kept close to us. The only other person he ever had contact with was his brother. But Regulus is dead, isn’t he?”
“The Order certainly thought so, although the information was incomplete and much of it came through Sirius’ own investigations.” Remus was aware he was under scrutiny and tried not to yawn. “You are exhausted, Remus, and I think you should be in bed.”
“No, no, I will help you search the castle,” Remus replied.
“You will better serve me by getting a good night’s sleep. I think you must have forgotten Severus’ warning regarding Wolfsbane and alcohol,” he said mildly.
It was on the tip of Remus’ tongue to deny he’d had any warning from Snape, but instead he merely nodded. “Thank you, Albus.”
As he sank back into his bed twenty minutes later, one last thought penetrated his mind before he fell asleep. The Marauder’s Map. I need to get it back.
The next morning, Remus awoke late. He had not had a good night’s sleep. Despite the Wolfsbane he’d been haunted by images of a black dog patrolling the Hogwarts grounds. “But,” he muttered, trying to convince himself, “it was Dark magic he used to escape Azkaban. Padfoot no longer exists; he is as dead as Wormtail and Prongs.”
As he walked down the stairs towards the Great Hall for breakfast, his attention was caught by Argus Filch walking across the hall, no doubt to enjoy some food. Marauders Map, he thought, but the sight of Mrs Norris, who had stretched herself out in front of the office door, made him pause.
“Not having breakfast this morning, Remus?” Charity said as she wandered downstairs. She yawned. “Can’t say I blame you. I swear after patrolling all night, I’m far too tired to eat.” She stopped beside him. “Good day to start my diet, I guess...”
“Hmm.” He wasn’t listening properly, wondering if he could entice Mrs Norris away.
“That’s not very chivalrous for a Gryffindor,” she grumbled.
Remus turned his head towards her. “Sorry, Charity, I was miles away. You were saying?”
“It’s not important,” she said sighing. “You obviously have other things on your mind. I can’t blame you. Sirius Black’s appearance last night was a shock for everyone.” She yawned again. “You should have heard some of the theories being bandied around last night.”
“Students being rather far-fetched, were they?” Remus asked. He began to descend the stairs, still watching Filch’s cat.
“No,” Charity replied, laughing. “It was Bathsheba and Sybil. Their latest theory involved him capturing Fawkes and flying into the castle.” She stopped. “Remus, why are you so interested in that revolting cat?”
They were at the bottom stair now and Remus knew that Filch would be back in his office very soon after breakfast. If he were to get hold of the map, he needed to get in there quickly. He thought quickly and then decided to act. “Charity,” he began, “I need to get into Argus’ office to ‘recover’ something. I don’t suppose you’d distract Mrs Norris for me, would you?”
“I take it you can’t just ask Argus for this ‘something’ then?”
Remus laughed. “Merlin no. He might not even have it any more, but he confiscated it years ago and ... well ... I’d rather like it back.”
Charity looked at him and then at Mrs Norris. She gave a sigh. “What do I have to do?”
He grinned at her and pulled out something from his pocket. “Mrs Norris has a fondness for Cockroach Clusters. Could you lure her away, whilst I get inside?”
Accepting the sweets, Charity smiled weakly. “You’re very well prepared, but I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. How are you going to get in the office? Argus locks it and always has a key on him. Alohamora doesn’t work; I believe Albus charmed the door to only open with a Muggle key “”
“Mmm, I know,” Remus replied as he walked towards Filch’s office. He put his hand in his other pocket. “Filch is very proud of the fact that he’s the only one with a key ... however “” he paused and then showed her something shiny in his hand “”he never knew about James Potter’s amazing lock-picking skills.”
Five minutes later, thanks to the skeleton key and some Cockroach Clusters, Remus found himself in Argus Filch’s office. Hastily, he searched through a large filing cabinet behind the desk. It had been Peter who had dropped the map during their last term. Filch, Remus remembered, had been jubilant at finding something that belonged to his most troublesome students and had whisked it away. Merlin, where is it? he thought, as he rummaged through a draw marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.
Why the hell didn’t we get it back at the time? But he knew why. Filch had doubled his vigilance, hoping to catch them out, and James had been so taken up with Lily that he hadn’t seen the need to get it back.
“What do we need it for?” he’d argued. “We know all the tunnels ... besides we won’t have a map when we’re on the outside “ fighting. Working without the map can only make us better at reconnaissance.”
“Argus, how ... err ... nice to see you?” Remus heard Charity’s voice as she loudly greeted the caretaker.
“Excuse me, Miss Burbage,” Filch growled. “You’re in my way.”
“Oh, but Argus,” she replied. “I wanted to talk to you about ... um ... cats. I’m thinking of getting one and I can see how much you care for Mrs Norris. She’s such a ... wonderful pet; I was hoping you could give me some advice.”
After taking one last peek inside the drawer, Remus closed it silently and crept to the door. Through a crack in the frame, he could see Charity leading Argus away in the direction of the stairs. Slowly he opened the door and slipped out, hiding behind a pillar. “Quite like old times,” he muttered and then began to laugh silently.
Charity turned her head back as she reached the stairs and spotting him, she mouthed, “You owe me, Remus Lupin.”
He nodded and smiled back.
“Did you get it?” Charity asked him later in the staff room. He was helping himself to a mug of tea and Charity had walked in, once again carrying a pile of homework. He wondered, briefly, why she didn’t put everything in a bag to keep her hands free.
“Unfortunately not,” he replied. “Filch has either disposed of it or someone else has got hold of it.”
“Was it important?” Charity sat on the sofa and Remus sank down beside her.
“Probably not,” he lied. “Thank you for your help, though.” He grinned at her. “It was almost like being back here as a pupil. That feeling of nearly being caught. I’d forgotten how exhilarating that could be.”
“That side of school life passed me by, I’m afraid,” said Charity, sighing. “I was always far too scared of being caught. I think it’s part and parcel of being a Hufflepuff; we’re very responsible.”
“HA! Not the Hufflepuff I know,” Remus exclaimed. “She was always getting into trouble. Probably still is.”
“Anyone I know?” Charity asked, sounding casual.
Remus took a gulp of his tea and gasped as it scalded his throat. He spluttered and Charity leant over to thump him on the back. “Sorry,” he said at last. “No, I don’t think you would have known her.”
To stop himself thinking about a girl with pink hair camped out on his doorstep, Remus turned to Charity. “I owe you a favour, I believe, for leading you astray this morning.”
“Oh,” she replied, blushing profusely. “No, don’t worry about it, Remus. I was pleased to help.” She got up. “I must get back to my office. I’ll ... err ... see you later, perhaps.”
“I don’t think you’ll want to see me later,” he said. She looked puzzled. “It’s a full moon tonight, so I’ll be curled up in my office until morning. Look, Charity, I do appreciate your help today so let me at least buy you a drink or something.”
He expected her to say no, especially as he’d just reminded her of his ‘problem’ but she turned around and giving him a shy smile said, “That would be lovely, Remus.”
It wasn’t a relationship, as such, but over the next few weeks Remus found he spent more and more time with Charity. Sometimes she’d call round to his rooms, or he’d wander over to hers for a tea when he needed to talk or simply to escape Severus. She giggled with him over Sybil’s increasing attempts to read his fortune, and teased him when Septima became a little too forthright in her approaches. And when he left, after an evening chat, he’d peck her on the cheek and amble back to his room.
No, it wasn’t a relationship but it felt comfortable and it nearly stopped his thoughts from drifting to another.
“I expect you want Gryffindor to win,” Charity said as they took their seats in the stadium.
“Now, now, Charity,” he replied. “I’m supposed to be impartial. However ... it is my old house and my friends’ son, so, yes, I do want a lion’s win.”
“Ravenclaw has Chang back,” she said. “She’s a good Seeker. Your Harry may struggle against her.” She looked about her. “Still, at least the Dementors aren’t here. Albus has been able to keep them away this time.”
Remus looked across at Harry who was patting his Quidditch robe, no doubt checking his wand was in place in case the Dementors appeared. He watched as the Gryffindor team mounted their brooms and sped into the sky.
Harry, he could see, was having a good game. Although Cho was a good flyer, she did not have his verve and with the Firebolt, Harry’s acceleration was exhilarating to watch. Remus could not help but be transported back to his own student days here, when he’d commentated. He laughed as he heard Lee Jordan’s enthusiastic and highly biased commentary.
“I was much more circumspect in my opinions,” he remarked to Charity, when she asked why he was grinning.
Jordan’s sudden shout whipped his attention back to the game and he saw Harry diving down towards the ground, Cho following his every move. But she could not cope with his speed and suddenly she screamed as two cloaked Dementor-like figures appeared on the pitch. Remus frowned. There was no despair in the atmosphere; the day was still bright. They were not Dementors, surely.
“Expecto Patronum!” he heard Harry shout, and then, as if time had slowed immeasurably, Remus saw Harry’s Patronus emerge from his wand. It had just been a silver mist before; there had been no semblance of a form.
“Prongs!” Remus whispered and then he began to shake. He missed Harry catching the Snitch. He did not see the blur of red and gold as they congratulated his friends’ son. He sat and re-lived that stag erupting triumphant from Harry’s wand as it felled four Slytherins dressed as Dementors.
“Remus!” exclaimed Charity. “They’ve won! Your old House has won. Aren’t you going to say something?”
He looked into her sweet face. She looked concerned and he wondered if his face was showing the shock he felt on the inside. But it wasn’t just shock; something else was surfacing now “ pride. Pride that he’d been able to teach Harry something; pride that Harry’s Patronus was so reminiscent of his friend. “I must congratulate Harry,” he told her. “I’ll see you later, Charity.”
After the match, Remus returned to his quarters. He decided to skip dinner in the Great Hall. Instead he walked down to the kitchens and persuaded Frinkle, who remembered him from his student days, to give him some bread and cheese. She chuntered slightly over him helping himself in her kitchen, when there were house-elves around who would only be too happy to help, but by allowing her to add an apple pie to his tray and a bottle of elf wine, he made his escape with Frinkle placated.
He was halfway through his first glass of wine when Charity knocked on his door. She’d changed out of the robes she’d been wearing at the match, and instead was wearing a green dress that clung slightly, emphasizing her curves. She was carrying a plate of sandwiches. “You didn’t turn up for the Feast,” she said by way of explanation. “I thought you might be hungry... but I can see you’ve got some food.”
Remus swallowed his mouthful of wine and gestured for her to sit down.
“Would you care for a glass?” he asked.
She nodded then added as she eyed the pile of marking that he’d been half-heartedly plodding his way through. “I probably shouldn’t, I’ve already had some as Minerva is in celebratory mood, but I will if I’m not disturbing you.”
“It can wait,” he said wearily. He handed her a glass and their fingers touched briefly. “I’d much rather sit and chat a while.”
“You look tired,” she said softly and raised her hand to his face. Her fingertips felt soft as they traced over his cheekbone and moved down to his jaw. She leant forward and, hesitantly, began to kiss him. Her hands moved to back of his neck as she pulled him further towards her.
As Remus responded, he felt oddly disconnected from the whole process. It was as if he were going through the motions, and although he was enjoying this feeling of intimacy “ there was something not quite right. Charity felt as if she were forcing the pace for some reason. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt. Then he felt her freeze as her fingers encountered the scars on his chest. He withdrew her hand and gazed into her eyes.
It was fear he saw there; fear and possibly pity that she struggled to keep from him. He sat up and smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I think I am rather tired. Perhaps another time.”
She would not look at him, but took another slug of wine before she left. “I’ll ... err ... see you tomorrow, Remus,” she muttered as she walked away. He heard the door close and felt only relief that she’d gone.
It is better that she realises now, he thought. Before she becomes too attached and then discovers her revulsion. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise, Moony.
Finishing his glass, he picked up his quill intent on resuming his marking. But a memory rose unbidden in his mind of a seventeen-year old Tonks applying salve to his wounds. There had been no pity or fear in her eyes. She had not fled from him, and when he’d kissed her, there had been no hesitancy “ just single-minded and passionate response.
It was not the Potions Master who woke him this time, but Filius who was banging on his door. “He’s in the castle,” the little Charms Professor puffed. “Black got into Gryffindor Tower.”
“He got to Harry?” Remus asked in shock as he pulled on his dressing gown. Grabbing his wand, he started to run towards the stairs.
“No,” shouted Filius after him. “Harry’s safe. He got the wrong bed and attacked the Weasley boy instead.”
Remus slowed slightly to let Filius catch him. “Is he okay?”
“Yes,” wheezed Filius. “He slashed the curtains and then must have realised his mistake. When Weasley started shouting, he made a run for it. Albus has locked down the castle and needs us all to search.”
Remus started running again, leaving Filius behind as he sprinted for the third floor. He slowed as he came to the statue of the one-eyed witch. If there were signs that Black had been here then Remus knew he’d have to tell Albus everything. He pulled out his wand and touched the statue. “Dissendium!” he whispered and then the tunnel door swung open. Feeling his way around the entrance, he lit his wand and looked carefully for any evidence. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw nothing more exciting than a Chocolate Frog wrapper. Someone knew about the tunnel, but he didn’t think Black would have bothered to eat sweets on his way to commit murder. He closed the tunnel door and walked back into the corridor.
Three hours later, when the castle had been thoroughly searched, the staff all gathered in the Great Hall before breakfast. Remus noticed Charity hovering at the back. She looked tired and red-eyed. He smiled at her, but she looked away.
Damn! he thought. Taking a deep breath, he edged towards her. “How are you?” he murmured.
“Fine,” she replied but her voice was shaky. She blushed. “Err ... Remus ... about last night ... I’m ... err.”
“Charity, it doesn’t matter. Look, let’s just forget it. Put it down to an excess of wine,” he said, ignoring the fact that he’d barely had half a glass. He paused. “Would you like to go into Hogsmeade later? The students won’t be there and perhaps we could grab a Butterbeer.”
She smiled gratefully. “That would be nice.”
They walked down to Hogsmeade at lunchtime, and slowly the awkwardness between them melted away. As they walked along the street, Charity stumbled and Remus reached out his hand to steady her. She kept a hold of his arm and together they crossed over the road.
“Remus.” He heard a voice calling him and turned his head.
There, white-faced and looking unutterably sad, stood Tonks. He saw her look across to Charity, saw her register that he was holding her arm, and watched as she turned and began to run.
He dropped Charity’s arm. “Tonks,” he shouted and began to walk towards her. He turned back to Charity. “Excuse me, I have to go. There’s something wrong.”
He caught up with her just as she turned up the side road to Honeydukes. She was slumped against the wall and he could see her gasping for breath.
“Tonks,” he said gently. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Is it true? Did Sirius break into Gryffindor Tower last night?”
“Yes.”
Tonks turned her face up to his, a desperate entreaty in her eyes. “Could it have been someone else? Or...or ... maybe he just wanted to see Harry again?”
“He had a knife,” Remus replied grimly. “He tried to kill a student.”
“Harry?” she asked in a muffled voice as she buried her face in her knees.
“No, he got the wrong bed. It was his friend, Ron.” Tonks looked at him blankly. “Charlie’s youngest brother, Tonks,” Remus explained calmly.
She turned her face to his and he saw the desolation wrought upon her face. “He did it, didn’t he?” she said and her chest began heaving great body-wracking sobs. “I refused to believe Kingsley this morning.” She slid down the wall and sat on the ground, tears running like a river down her cheeks. “All these years I believed in him ... and now...”
She couldn’t carry on. The devastation was too much for her to bear and Remus knew why. The foundation of her life “ Sirius’ innocence -- had been built on sand. Now that the tide had moved in, her world was crumbling.
Remus sat next to her and then leant over. Cradling Tonks in his arms, he rocked her very gently until her sobs subsided.
“It’s all gone,” she whispered over and over. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Remus. It’s like nothing matters anymore. I have nothing.”
Remus smoothed her lank, brown hair back from her face. “You have me,” he muttered into her ear.