Alright, what happened with this the first time around was that I got prematurely excited with having posted more then one story in a night and got carried away. This one wasn't quite finished when I posted it, and so I have gone back and revised it and made it more to my liking and more clear for you. Remus does not die at the end, contrary to the previous edition. He merely can't speak. Thanks!
He thought it was rather ironic how, that they now decided to give out trials, even though those who were being prosecuted had very well admitted to their sins. There had only been one time they had decided to forgo the trial, and that time it was damn bloody irony playing them for fools. Remus liked to remind himself that they were all puppets in this world. Every single last one of them. Every action, every reaction, everything played a part in the larger circle, but was so small when looked at alone. Damn bloody ironic is what it was.
Harry sat beside him rigidly, doing his very best to hide his anguish at watching the men and women brought before him die. The very men and women who had sworn to kill him.
Hermione sat to his left, her hands clutched very tightly in her lap, her knuckles as white as her face, her eyes calculating the destruction before her. Watched the needle enter the prisoners skin and watched as they trashed around in agony before slowly dying in front of the crowd. She attempted to see the intelligence behind these murders, tried to see the logic she should be able to find as the most clever witch of her time; but could not put her emotions to the back of her mind, and so the ashen tears traveled down her face.
Ron sat to Hermione's right, his bright red hair easy to pick out, his face white and his dark eyes steadily watching the dark spot on the wall across the room. Never once looking away from it, never once wavering. The boy who was so fond of chess and strategy could not find the strategy in the deaths of these people.
Ginny sat to Harry's left, red hair just as flashy as her brothers, but offset by her dark, mourning robes. Mourning robes for those who had very nearly killed her; the wicked scar across her chest serving as a testament to her struggle to survive. Her dark eyes never wavered from their faces, etching their pain in her memory as a reminder of the hideousness of war.
Neville was to Ginny's left and sat calmly and silently. He did not bat an eye at any of the Death Eater's snarls and insults. He sat by calmly, a Drooble wrapper clutched in his fist, and did not shed a tear nor say a word until Bellatrix Lestrange was dragged out and only when her body had violently shuddered for the last time did Neville break out in howling sobs and needed to be forced from the room.
When Lucius Malfoy was dragged out in front of the crowd, he did not curse Harry, nor any other Gryffindor. He screamed expletives and hate at his only son and his betrayer; Draco Malfoy sat pale faced with an ugly red scar across his left eye and down to his jaw, clutching his only leg tightly with his scarred fists.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan both sat a ways away from them, towards the middle. Dean had his head cocked slightly to the side, his left ear facing the Death Eaters and his eyes on Seamus. Well they would have been on Seamus, had he had any eyes left; an artist unable to see his own work.
Luna Lovegood was not able to attend, but her mother and father sat closer to the front. Mrs. Lovegood was heaving wracking sobs that shook her entire frame but made no noise. Luna would have had an interesting explanation for that, Remus was sure. But Loony Luna Lovegood had gone madder after 3 nights of constant torture under the Crutaius curse.
The Patil sisters and Lavender Brown were gone, their pictures hanging on the wall as a reminder of those who the Death Eater's had murdered. Their pictures were some of the lasts Colin Creevey had taken before Nott had used his camera strap to strangle the boy to death.
Madame Maxime sat behind them, but the entire room could hear her useless attempts at being quiet. Fleur and Bill Weasley sat with her, offering her what comfort they could. It had taken 13 Death Eaters to bring down Hagrid, but he had taken down another 10 before that. He had truly died a hero's death; unfortunate that his blood made him unrecognizable of such an honour. And without Hagrid there to vouch for him, Grawp had become the possession of the Ministry of Magic, and no one was quite sure what had happened to the large man.
Rudolphous Lestrange was dragged in and Remus watched as Ginny and Ron's eyes hardened with a loathing so strong that they both had to look away. Rodolphous laughed horribly whilst foaming at the mouth once the serum was injected into his blood stream. They said that Fred and George laughed while they died in each others' arms after they confronted Rodolphous for killing their pregnant sister-in-law- Penny Clearwater-Weasley. Poor Prefect Percy never had the chance to talk them out of it as he would have done when they were younger.
Severus Snape did not attend, although many knew him to be the traitor within their midst. His picture was not on the wall either, nor was he on the list to be executed. Snape had survived the war, with all of his limbs more or less in tact. It was just last week that he had been taking a walk to find potion ingredients from the Forbidden Forest that he had been bitten on the ankle by a poisonous snake and died while trying to get to Madame Pomfrey.
Remus watched as Greyback was led into the crowd and given a triple dose of the serum. He had a muzzle on, and his legs and arms were bound by hard leather and silver straps. He might have screamed while dying, Remus wasn't sure, the muzzle hid the noise. He remembered that Greyback had loved to listen to his victims screams when he killed them.
Arthur and Molly Weasley sat some few seats in front of them with Tonks and Shacklebolt, both who were helping the old couple support the legless Charlie Weasley in his seat. The Death Eaters had thought it would be funny to feed the boy to the animals that he so loved.
Tonks was watchful and careful around Charlie; nearly loving. There was no trace of her inherent clumsiness even when she was missing all of her fingers and her ears. She had wisely chosen to not morph for this ceremony, and Remus could make out the signature Black look from his seat; long, fluid raven hair, pale skin and blue eyes. Tonks carried her heritage well, and for once, everyone in the room knew who she was.
Moody was sitting sullenly near Scrimegeour, assigned to duty to keep the Minister safe. He had once again survived another war, and had been forced into constant active duty as an Auror, since most of the Auror's had been killed. Moosy had seen three wars worth of people killed; three wars worth of friends. His saying, "Constant Vigilance!", had been less to watch for his enemies and more to watch for would-be friends. He couldn't afford to loose anymore, and he certainly couldn't take making anymore.
Remus listened as they called the 6 digit numbers of the prisoners and rubbed the back of his own neck lightly. Funny how they give dark creatures a near identical one.
Hogwarts, the nearly indestructible castle had been destroyed by many a dark wizard until all that remained was the statue from the dungeons of a Seraphim Angel being led into hell by the Devil's minions.
And Remus watched as Peter Pettigrew walked out calmly and lay on the steel table and did not utter a sound. No words of regret, no simpering excuses or apologies. He watched as they injected the serum into Peter's veins and stared as Peter jerked once but otherwise remained quiet and calm. They made eye contact and Peter smiled; not a smirk of victory, or of power. It was sad and small and slightly bitter but Remus saw the acceptance in Peter's eyes, and was highly reminded of when they were little and Peter would accept anyone's apologies, simply because he had always liked peace and quiet and did not deal well with confrontation and war.
Remus recalled James, and how the boy had been the only one to truly accept Peter for something other then a simpering follower (although he had truly embraced the worshipping and milked it for all that it was worth). He remembered how James had looked him in the eye at the beginning of the war, after Harry was born and told him that he couldn't trust him to be the Secret Keeper because he had enough reasons for the Death Eaters and the Ministry to be after him anyways. He had mentioned that it was the same situation for Sirius. Remus remembered thinking that he had ended up picking Sirius anyways, that Peter had said no after all. "Who would ever suspect the little rat anyways?" James had guffawed.
Remus recalled Lily, a few weeks before giving birth to Harry. She was round and full and while she glowed with pregnancy, there was a darkness around her that would not fade. It made her eyes sunken and her cheeks hollow. Her smiles were fleeting and did not reach her dulling green eyes. She had told Remus that she worried always; about James, about Sirius, about Peter, about the baby, about him. She worried so much. Then she had smiled, a real one, no matter how small, and laughed and said that she just knew that when her baby came, he would change the world.
Remus remembered Sirius and how they would touch before Azkaban. Long hugs, arms around each other's shoulders; Sirius had always been affectionate. He remembered how when Sirius returned from Azakaban, he skin was sallow and yellowing, his hair incurably straggly, and his teeth rotting from his mouth. He didn't touch anymore, didn't remember how. He had laughed one night, a dying man's laugh, tearing from his throat, harsh and unmerciful. He had laughed until he had cried, sitting in front of his family tree and that was how Remus had found him. Sirius turned around and, through his tears, had sickeningly, laughingly explained how he was so sure that one of his family members would have killed him by now. And then they heard about Harry in the Department of Mysteries and Sirius had dried his tears, grabbed his wand and rushed out.
When Remus and the Order stepped into Grimmauld Place 12, their unofficial home since many of their real homes had been destroyed, and Mrs. Black's painting began screaming again, Remus tried the only thing he could think of to shut her up as he helped a one-legged Draco Malfoy get through the front door. He set her on fire. And slid down against the adjacent wall as she finally burned away, the flames licking the curtains until Molly quickly put it all out. And all that was left was a charred hole in the wall. He remembered that Sirius had tried just about everything to get her off the wall, but had never considered using fire because it was how he had found James and Lily's house, on October 31, 1981.
And after everyone had gone to bed, Remus made himself a cup of tea and settled down at the kitchen table. He thought about the trials, about the people who had been killed, who had killed and those who wished they were dead. Voldemort was gone, the war was over. And yet the world had never been this torn. Voldemort had been destroyed only to leave a gaping hole where there should have been happiness and peace. It seemed they were incapable of feeling peace anymore.
It was all damn bloody ironic if you asked Remus.
Of course, no one could expect an answer from him anymore.
Peter and his silver hand had torn out the werewolf's throat during the final battle. Remus had felt the wolf howl within him, both at the contact of the silver on his skin and the betrayal and loss of his pack mates. But he did not die, as much as he wanted to. Remus Lupin lived on, not able to speak, laugh or even whisper. Only the wolf was left to sing their song to the sky, hidden deep within Remus' soul; to offer quiet comfort where it was needed and to silently watch over those left behind.
Only, the werewolf would never sing again at a full moon, he could not offer comforting words to the anguished Harry nor any of the others, and as much as he tried to watch over those left behind, he remembered he was also left behind, and wondered who was watching over him. 'The moon' the wolf howled inside of him. 'The moon will watch over her children'.
It was all so damn bloody ironic.