Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh yesterday came suddenly.
The Haunted
Remus J. Lupin… Mr. Lupin… Remus Lupin… Remus J… R.J. Lupin…
Son… Brother... Friend... Partner... Lover... Werewolf...
These were all titles that he had been given over the years.
Betrayer…Backstabber…Murderer…
"NO!" Remus yelled, sitting bolt upright. His brow was covered with a light perspiration and he was panting. He wiped his forehead with his arm and gathered himself. He looked around the room, just to be sure, but nothing was out of order. Slowly, he lay back down in bed. The blankets had all pooled around his waist, but he didn't bother adjusting them. He stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought.
Why won't the dreams go away?
Night after night, he was haunted by the same one. He often found himself wondering if he'd ever sleep through the night again.
After a moment, his eyes swept around the room again, before steadily fixing on one point. He sighed. The calendar hanging on the door read November 7th. That marked one week since the death of Lily and James Potter. A death at the hands of one of their own.
"Sirius Black," he said out loud. The name that had once seemingly rolled off the tongue with elegance and grace, suddenly felt gritty and dirty in his mouth.
"Sirius Black," he repeated the words and once again felt the same repulsion within himself. Soon, they turned into desperate wails that pierced the air like knives.
Remus knew that people were talking about him.
How could they not be?
If he were in their situation, he'd probably talk to. The evidence against Sirius was enormous, but that didn't keep people from gossiping. After all, what was more exciting than a scandal? Dumbledore had tried to quiet the rumors, but Remus saw how even the old man looked at him. No one could help but wonder what part "that Lupin boy" had played in this big mess. It was November the 28th – exactly a month after the murder of the Potters. Remus knew the people would move on soon, forget about him, but he wasn't even sure he wanted them too. Whilst people looked at him with disdain, wondering what role he played in the deaths, he began to look at himself with a similar loathing. It was as if he could almost believe the rumours, that just one more would make it true; would suddenly turn him into a liar, a betrayer and a murderer. Once they stopped and forgot about him, he would no longer have an excuse to hate himself, and then where would that leave him?
Remus held up his glass. "To Lily and James," he said, his voice hoarse from not using it for so long. The 31st of October marked the first anniversary of his friends' deaths. He sat at the ragged old table, alone, and downed the glass in one go. He hadn't spoken to anyone in months.
Who wanted to talk to him, anyway?
He reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey, intent on pouring himself another glass, but instead put the bottle to his lips and drank the whole thing in silence.
"Well I hope you're happy, Sirius," he spat. "Look at what you've… you've done."
He stumbled across the room and fell pitifully onto his bed, where he passed out. He lay there until the light's morning rays warmed his chest. But that was only on the outside. On the inside he was cold.
How did the Dementors get on the train?
He had been reluctant to take the position at his old school when Dumbledore had first approached him. He still didn't know why he took it. Maybe he wanted something to do, to fill his days. Or maybe he wanted to see Harry Potter, the son of his friends. He didn't know why.
The Dementors had left and the lights had come back on.
"Professor, please help," said a girl with bushy brown hair.
Remus followed her eyes and saw a boy lying on the ground. He saw James lying on the ground.
Emotions flooded through his body, but he wouldn't have been able to name them. They were raw emotions, indecipherable, but so powerful in their presence.
He knelt down on the ground and shook James' shoulders.
"Open your eyes. Are you alright? Can you hear me? Please, please just open your eyes," he begged.
Slowly, he came to and the boy's eyes fluttered open, only momentarily. Remus started when he realised that the person staring back at him wasn't his old friend. He looked down at him and saw Lily's eyes inside the body of a thirteen year old James. Quickly, he got up and retreated to the back of the compartment.
The boy sat up a few moments later. Pulling a block of chocolate out of his pocket, Remus broke it into pieces.
"Here. Eat it. It'll help," he said.
The boy took the chocolate. "What was that thing?"
"A Dementor," Remus said, his voice croaky, "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."
He needed to get out of there.
"Eat," he repeated, "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"
He hastily exited the compartment and walked down the carriage. He stopped next to a large window and put his head against it. He welcomed the coolness. He closed his eyes, but could not rid himself of the image of Harry Potter. For a moment, he had honestly thought he had his best friend back. For a moment, he had honestly believed that things had gone differently. That there had never been a dark lord, that his friends had never been murdered, and that he, Remus Lupin, was not dead inside.
But he couldn't avoid the truth: he was a shell, that's all. Nothing went on inside the walls of his heart; there was nothing under his skin. He wasn't even half the man he used to be. Everywhere he went there was a shadow that followed him. He could not escape it now, and he never would. It would be with him until the day that he died.
The moment he had seen Harry Potter, things had become real to him. He had been jerked out of the horrible nightmare he had been living in, and was thrown into a reality that was even worse.
"I can't do this," he muttered, and slid down the wall and onto the ground. He sat in a huddled ball, letting the tears escape his eyes, and he prayed. He didn't know to whom he prayed, or why, but it was the only thing left there was to do.
"We're up here! We're up here! Sirius Black! QUICK!"
Remus raced towards the voice, his wand raised.
How much further?
He reached the door. He threw it open, and clambered inside. There was Sirius, lying on the ground with Harry Potter standing above him, wand pointed at his heart.
"Expelliarmus!" Remus yelled and three wands flew towards him.
He turned to his old friend, to the traitor. "Where is he, Sirius?"
From the floor, he moved an arm and pointed towards the other boy lying on the bed.
"But then… why hasn't he showed himself before now? Unless –" Remus' eyes widened as he began to understand the situation before him. His heart was thumping in his chest, threatening to burst out through his ribcage. "Unless he was the one… unless you switched… without telling me?"
Sirius nodded.
Intense emotions flowed through his body. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could even think of the consequences, of Harry, he was at Sirius' side. He extended his hand to him and pulled him to his feet. He embraced him like a brother. Thirteen years worth of hatred and anger seemed to tear him apart. He didn't know whether he was immensely happy, or immensely sad. He no longer understood his emotions; he hadn't been able to for years. For those few moments, as he clung onto his best friend, his brother, he felt helpless yet powerful, so powerful, at the same time. He wanted to weep, he wanted to scream, he wanted to laugh and he didn't want anything.
The reunion with Sirius reminded him of all he had been missing. It also brought back the buried memories of his past, of his friends, of James and Lily.
He couldn't figure out what was going on or how he felt. In short, Remus Lupin was an absolute mess.
Remus dodged a curse that was sent hurtling towards him. The heat of the Battle of Hogwarts was getting to everyone. It was intense. Spells zoomed past him and he had to work hard to avoid them. He was close now, he wouldn't last much longer. There were just too many of them. He was so close to death. He could feel it, but he had never felt more alive. He had lost the three best friends he had ever had. They had all been lost to this suppressive darkness that he was now fighting against. He had a wife, he had a child, but he didn't feel it.
Why didn't he feel it?
He was close to death, and he was quite ready to go. It was time. He was sick of feeling nothing. He was sick of being a shell, devoid of emotional stability. He was tired of contemplating, rather than experiencing.
What had all these years brought him, really?
He wanted to smile, to be truly and incandescently happy, without all this weight on his shoulders.
This shadow, it looms everywhere. There is no escaping it. It is with us all, with us until the day that we die. You cannot win. Dark and light work hand in hand: there can't be one without the other. They exist together, in an ideal world, harmoniously, but in reality, there will always be a battlefield.
A curse was sent, hurtling towards Remus, the green light reflecting off his eyes.
"I'm not half the man I used to be," he muttered, staring at the light. Time seemed to have stopped.
Why isn't it moving?
"There's a shadow hanging over me."
It was time to escape that shadow, to be free. Time sped up again; the curse hurtled towards him at a terrifying speed.
But this time he didn't move out of the way.
