A Message
He stood quietly in the rain, letting the silent drops fall about his face as they drifted quietly from the gray sky. His worn, several-times-patched robes were dark with the rainwater, having been exposed to the wet atmosphere for hours. He couldn't remember the last time he had been dry. If it wasn't rain, it was legions upon legions of the tears he could no longer control – tears that seemed to come from nowhere.
Battered suitcase at his feet, he remained there, not daring to move from the old oak tree. Head bowed, he gazed silently at the roots of the tree, seeing the powerful fingers of wood gripping the earth tightly and plunging below the surface to the soil beneath. The tree was strong: aged with the experience of many years and passing seasons, scorched on one side from a brush fire and mossy on the other. Its bare branches reached up into the sky with a leafless thirst for sunlight, to touch the stars and escape gravity; to hurl into the vast blackness of night.
Battered shoes scuffed against the earth, one coming to rest at the base of these massive roots. He couldn't help but smile, imagining the tree fighting back. But that thought was quickly suppressed, as were many others that accompanied it, and he found himself being violently reminded of the past few years and the events that had taken place.
There was only one such tree as that, and you will never see it again – not if you have anything to do with it.
He smirked a little, shaking his head. He could deny it all he wanted, but he knew it would never be true. That tree was as much a part of him as the moon was. He couldn't just forget about it. He would go back, that he knew. When that would be was another question, entirely. The Whomping Willow was his past, his present, his future. It was his dreams, it was his goals, it was his happiness.
Maybe that's why I'm so miserable.
But that couldn't be true, either. No tree was worth nearly losing sanity over. Not even a tree that could rip you to shreds and typically had an appetite for low-flying airplanes. No, it wasn't the Whomping Willow that he missed. He didn't even know what it was.
He had been a child at Hogwarts, a werewolf pup that didn't know how or why things worked the way they did. He simply took things as they were, fought his battles – whether outer or inner – and moved on with life, thinking arrogantly that life would continue on forever.
That was the stuff fairy tales were made of.
But fairy tales always end with the happily ever after.
Wryly, he grinned as his hands jammed themselves into the pockets of his gray robes. Like most of the rest of the robes, the pockets had been sewn on over and over again until they were frayed and asymmetrical. He cursed out loud as the hand-jamming motion ripped the left pocket on one side, leaving it to dangle limply. He then calmed, sighing resignedly as he took it by one hand and ripped it the rest of the way off. White threads clung to it in places, others it was completely abandoned from any remnant of attachment to his once-fine robes.
He almost laughed.
Well, if there was ever a tangible object that resembled my heart,
he thought, with a smirk plastered on his face.He was torn away from the cynical thought by a merry whistle that sounded behind him, and he turned to see a tottering old man, cane in hand. He was climbing slowly up the rocky hill, wheezing at the obvious effort. The cold, rainy air was enough to make Remus – long a weather-beaten creature of the night – shiver, but all this old man wore was a thin cardigan sweater over a polo tee and green slacks. He had a cap perched atop his head, not even large enough to cover his ears. Remus was fairly certain that the cap was only for the purpose of hiding baldness, though that thought struck him as odd, as the old man was certainly old enough to no longer feel chagrin at the idea of losing his hair.
A yellow ribbon was tied to his knobby cane.
Remus blinked, following the long strand of silken material with his eyes, as it fluttered in the breeze. It was wet with rain, as well, but its color still stood out like sunshine against the gray background of its surroundings.
The man did not look at Remus, nor so much as acknowledge his presence, as he approached the old oak tree, yellow ribbon leading the way as he hobbled against his cane. Remus remained still, moving as though to shove his hands in his pockets again, but then remembered that he was one pocket short. Cursing himself for forgetting gloves, he rubbed his fingers together to keep them from going completely numb.
The old man stood at the base of the oak tree and lifted his eyes to the expanse of branches overhead. His incessant whistling stopped, and he looked directly at the young wizard, a bright smile on his face.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" he asked.
Remus had to fight to keep himself from snickering, as he recalled what Sirius would have said – with the utmost respect for the elderly, no less – to this strange old man. "No, you prat, it's rather disgusting, if you ask me," he wanted to say, but he found himself stammering for words, nonetheless. "Why…I….I suppose so, yes it is."
The old man's smile vanished. "I was lying. Pity you had to believe me. It's rather a soddy day, and it's days like these that I wish God would finish his paperwork and just page me, already."
The pauper of a wizard was astonished. It showed clearly on his face.
"Oh, pshaw. Don't tell me you haven't wished that once in awhile. But it's considered depressive for you to think such a thing. Me, I'm an old prat, so I can wish to die as much as I like. I'm going to, anyway. It just takes a bit to get used to, and by then, you just want it all over with."
Remus still didn't know what to say.
"Oh, I see you're just as stunned into submission as the other, younger folks. But you seem older, hm?" The old man leaned closer to him then, breath wheedling through his nostrils as his ancient lungs drew air in. "Well, no, not older, I guess. Only thirty? My, my. But you've lived a life and a half, I suppose." He nodded to himself, answering his own question. "Yes, I've known a few boys like that. Must say, it's a pity to see life withering away so quickly. You only get to live once, no matter how much bargaining you do with the Lord – and believe me, I've tried."
Remus swallowed, chalking up the courage to speak to this old man at last. Finally, he cleared his throat and straightened his tattered robes with a dignified air that still lingered with him from the Hogwarts days. "You'll excuse me for asking, sir, but why – er, how…- do you seem to know so much about me, and really…what difference does it make to you? Am I not simply a stranger?"
The old man's smile returned, and he looked heavenwards, reminding Remus, ironically, of the centaurs that wandered freely in the Forbidden Forest. "Sometimes the strangers we meet on the street are the closest to kin that we shall ever know. You may not understand this just yet, but you will, one day, when that life and a half has finally caught up with you and you become desperate for a shoulder to lean on to. Of course, old friends are always the greatest comfort. But fresh faces can be rewarding as well."
Remus sighed. Great. This man's off his rocker, and I'm in no mood to commit anyone to an insane asylum…
But before Remus could so much as retaliate, the man reached one knobby hand down to his wooden cane and gingerly untied the yellow ribbon. The old man smiled to himself as he watched it flutter in the breeze, and Remus saw the silk material lengthen, wondering, with open eyes, if this man could possibly be a wizard. But no, he noted, the ribbon had merely been doubled over and was now allowed to stretch its limbs to the farthest reaches of free air.
The old man's whistling song returned, but in the form of a quiet hum. It was the same melody, only made more melancholy by the lower, more subdued sounds of his closed lips. Remus watched aptly as the man took the ribbon, twisting it between his fingers and humming the song all the more loudly.
And then, as the ribbon fought itself free from the man's fingers in the rush of wind that swept up the hill, the man clutched to it still, his lips now parted in song.
"Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree, the old oak tree…"
And then Remus remembered.
@--- @--- @---
Whirling figures twirled across his memory, laughing merrily as they found their way across the dance floor. Shades of green and red swept by in blurred flashes of light, reminding him oddly of Muggle cameras. But his smile stayed on his face, no matter how disoriented he became, no matter how lost in the moment he wandered.
The figures slowly took form, still dancing as they traveled across the floor, weaving between couples that were immersed in their worlds. One was a woman, the other a man. They were inside their own world, instantly lost in one another whenever they happened to accidentally meet the other's gaze. But they fought that wonderful, free-falling emotion whenever another crossed their path, and they welcomed everyone into their own circle of flashing colors, willing them to be as loved as the two of them felt.
The woman wore green, her red hair cascading down her back in effulgent waves. Bright green eyes peered out from under her thin, layered bangs, laughing all on their own whenever they met the gaze of another person. The man's red robes blended almost perfectly with his mate's hair; black, unruly hair flopped over his thin-rimmed glasses as his head moved to the beat of the music, twirling the girl around with gusto.
They were perfect together.
It must be wonderful – to be in love,
he couldn't help thinking, watching them with naught but the slightest feeling of jealously.The girl was singing now, laughing occasionally as she tripped over the man's feet. Her voice was far from perfect, but it had a certain lilting quality to it that attracted the ears and overcame the blast of wizard-speakers.
"Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree,"
she sang, slipping her arms around the man's neck.Remus watched as the man asked, gazing down at the hopeful young face before him, "What does that mean, Lily?"
The woman smiled knowingly, tapping a finger to the man's nose, nudging his glasses upward. "It's an old American Muggle song, James."
"Oh, so then it's pointless?"
She laughed, throwing her head back in merriment as he twirled her around again.
"No, James! It's quite the pungent song! It's about a man coming home from prison. He wants to know if his lover wants him back again."
James swung out from the woman's arms and fell back again, sending her off into another series of turns and twists, straining his ears to hear the music. "Who'd want a criminal back in their life?"
"Oh James!" she exclaimed, slapping him lightly as she fell back into his grasp. "The yellow ribbon is a code! The lover tied a hundred yellow ribbons around the old oak tree, telling him to come home."
James nodded thoughtfully, slowing as the song changed, and pulled Lily closer. She was still humming the song. "Well, then, would you do the same for me?"
She laughed again, shoving at him as he tried to tickle her. "Oh, you big oaf! You know I would!"
Remus couldn't help smiling to himself as he saw James' hand reach into his pocket, bringing out the tiny jewelry box that had been stored there hours earlier.
"Lily, I have something else to ask you," he said quietly.
And Remus turned away from the dancing figures, as Lily's excited giggling reached new octaves. He was grinning to himself, now.
It must be wonderful - to be in love.
@--- @--- @---
"What are you tying the ribbon for?" Remus asked the old man, one hand shoved into the remaining pocket of his robes.
The old man looked up at him, a twinkle much like Dumbledore's in his eyes. "Well, that's rather a private question, I should think."
The younger man immediately backed off. "Oh…I'm sorry…"
The old man waved a hand through the air, dismissing the apology. "Oh, don't be. I was just like you when I was younger. I missed someone very close to me, as well. But then I heard that old song about the oak tree and the yellow ribbon. Ever hear of it?"
Remus shook his head, hoping to hear the full song again, presumably from the lips of this old man.
Instead, the man shrugged, and finished tying the bow. "Well, it's just as well. Made me realize just how much I missed that someone, you know. I don't know what's better: to miss someone, or to know just how much you miss them. If you don't know, then you can go on thinking that it'll go away. If you do know, it haunts you forever. But it helps with the pain, to think of them. To think they'll come back."
"Do you tie the ribbon for that person?" Remus asked quietly.
The man nodded, hoisting his cane into one hand as he turned away from the tree. "Every year. Same day, every year. Never fails. Only when I die will this tree go bare."
Remus then looked up into the branches of the tree, noticing at last that the rain had stopped, no longer flecking the ground with wet droplets. When he looked back towards the earth, the man was gone.
He glanced wildly around, wondering where the man could have possibly gone. The tree was atop a hill, and the only way around it was down. He looked down the hill on all sides, but saw no one. The hillside was bare, minus a yellow ribbon flapping about in the breeze, behind him. Could he have possibly been a…a ghost?
He smiled to himself. More like an angel.
Remus turned back to the oak tree, gasping out loud as he took in the sight that now lay before him.
A hundred or more yellow ribbons were tied around the old oak tree. A single flower lay on the ground. The pauper of a wizard almost laughed out loud as he bent over to study the white petals of the flower.
It was, unmistakably, a lily.