As the train pulls away from the station, I watch the families--brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers--waving at their loved ones, children sent off to learn their magical heritage, perhaps for the first time, perhaps for the last. There is no one waving at me, no wife, no children, but that is all right. That is not why I chose to ride the train, when I could have Apparated to Hogsmeade and enjoyed the walk from the village, or arranged to Floo directly to the castle with Professor Dumbledore.
No, I simply want to experience the Hogwarts Express once more, as the older, wiser man I am supposed to be. I want to put the past behind me. Yet as I settle into the compartment and gather my cloak around me, I am reminded of my own first train ride, a trip I had thought I would never make, until Albus Dumbledore had made sure someone like me would be able to study at Hogwarts…
I opened the door to the compartment, where two boys were laughing uproariously. They turned toward me and laughed even more, and I couldn't help but glare at them, offended when they had no reason to be laughing at me--at least, not yet.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, still standing in the doorway and putting forth far more bravado than I felt.
"Some gorm who wants to be in Slytherin," replied the first boy, who was about my age with messy hair and round glasses. "Can you imagine? Blimey, Sirius, I hope you don't end up with that Snivellus."
The other boy shook his head. "I'll drop out if I do, now that I've met the git."
"What's wrong with Slytherin?" I asked, although I knew many people disliked Slytherin, and I was not ignorant as to why. I was curious to see what they might say.
"They're bloody prats, the whole lot," said the first boy, frowning. "Why? Is that where you're going?"
I shrugged as I entered the compartment and stowed my trunk above the seats. The train had started, and it was the last open compartment. I'd have to sit with them, although truth be told, even then I had a feeling that there was something different about these two strong personalities.
"I doubt it," I replied. "Ravenclaw, I'd guess. Although my dad was in Gryffindor." My mum had been top of her class, and as I enjoyed many of her same interests, I hoped to follow in her footsteps; I didn't feel brave enough to be a Gryffindor, especially back then. Sometimes I still don't.
The first boy grinned and nodded. "Brilliant. I'm James." Even then he was bursting with easy confidence as he brushed his hair from his face. He motioned at the other boy, who was a bit more dark and brooding, though he seemed drawn out by James's infectious energy. "This is Sirius. He's a Slytherin legacy, but we're trying to figure out how to get him into Gryffindor."
I nodded as I sat and joined them. "Just ask?" I suggested, and for some reason we all burst out laughing. Little did we know, it was as almost as simple as that…
The door opens and several students enter my compartment. I had hoped to make the ride alone with my thoughts, but it's likely there is no room for them elsewhere. I glance through half-open eyes to see who is joining me in my solitude, and hold back a gasp as a ghost enters the compartment: a young boy with glasses and black hair that he can't seem to control, it is as if he has stepped straight out of my memory. He glances around, and brilliant green eyes break my heart in two.
Harry. James and Lily's son.
It has been almost twelve years since I last saw him, but I am instantly transported back to that day. It was late fall, and the war was escalating to the point of defeat. There seemed to be little hope, especially for my friends…
"It's the only way, Remus," said James, pacing the floor. Harry sat on my lap, babbling happily as he played with the small stuffed lion I had brought over. "Professor Dumbledore says You-Know-Who may come after us any day, and the Fidelius Charm is the last, best way to protect Harry and Lily."
"And you," I pointed out. I made some sort of ridiculous noise at Harry, who giggled and reached out toward my lips, shrieking as I tickled them with the coarse stubble I'd forgot to shave after several days on assignment.
James waved me off. "And me, yes. Merlin, I hate this, Remus. I want to be out there, fighting to end it--not in here hiding and just waiting for it to be over."
Harry squirmed in my arms, obviously wanting to be let down, so I set him on the floor, where he quickly tottered over to the corner. A large chest held a plethora of toys, and he began tossing everything onto to the floor, apparently determined to empty it while we talked.
"I know, Prongs," I said softly. "But you have to do what's best for your family now. It's the price you pay for falling in love and all that." He gave me such a skeptical look that I laughed in spite of how dangerous things truly were. "No, really. And it will be worth it. I promise."
James sighed. "I hate not knowing how long it will last." He paused and let his shoulders slump, a rare show of emotion and defeat. "Or who to trust."
"You can trust your friends, James," I said. "We are here for you.
"I know. Thank you, Remus," he said. Harry tumbled into the toy box, and James walked over to pluck him out as if it had happened a dozen times already. "I just hope it's over soon."
It had ended not long after that, but not in the way any of us had hoped or foreseen. James and Lily and Peter, all dead. Harry, sent off on Dumbledore's orders to live with his Muggle family. And Sirius, sentenced to Azkaban for betraying us all. A rush of anger fills me as I listen to Harry tell his friends about Sirius Black. I can't imagine what Sirius would want with James's son, yet at times I still cannot comprehend his treachery, even so many years later.
Harry has no idea; that much is obvious. He does not know why this prisoner of Azkaban would want to see him dead. He does not know that both Sirius Black and the man pretending to sleep in the corner were once two of his father's best friends. Harry is so much like James that it almost hurts to be sitting there with him, and yet he is more like Lily in his calm acceptance and quite composure. James would be angry, like I was.
The memories of the brief time I knew Harry as a child are overwhelming. James's son. He should have had a normal childhood, should have grown up in the wizarding world, with parents who loved him and cared for him. Instead they died for him, and now their killer has escaped.
It occurs to me that I can protect Harry now; perhaps I can even be the godfather that Sirius was not. I feel I must make up for my failure in not seeing Sirius for what he really was, for not insisting I be their Secret-Keeper. In many ways, my failure ruined this boy's life. I must redeem that tragedy, for James.
With that thought I drift off, the steady hum of the train lulling me into sleep and dreams full of sorrow and regret. The time passes quickly, until a strange chill pulls me from the depths. I hear cries and feel icy fingers wrap around my heart. My eyes snap open as I realize what is happening.
Dementors.
The temperature plummets as the train slows to a stop, and darkness takes over. The students are scared and stumbling around until I cast a small light. And then the Dementors enter our compartment, as if they have come for him and him alone. Harry collapses. I cast my Patronus and they are forced back, and slowly life returns to the train.
As Harry awakes, I am struck once more by his eyes--his mother's eyes. It is as if Lily is looking at me through James's face and it is all I can do to keep myself together. I offer him chocolate to recover and excuse myself. I am a teacher now and must attend to the rest of the train.
Yet as I leave the compartment, my purpose suddenly becomes clear. I have not come to Hogwarts for a job, nor have I really come to teach. I have come for Harry, so that Sirius cannot.
And I will do anything to protect him.