Nothing
He was 18 when his father told him he meant nothing to him.
His mother had come running after him, crying, pleading, begging. He didn't mean it, she tried to tell him. After a while she stopped saying it for his sake and started saying it for hers, as if maybe, just maybe, she would start to believe it.
And now, as he stood in the house that use to be his home, he could feel them. They had died years ago, but their presence was still here. Her love, his hate. Like ghosts, haunting Remus until the very end.