Author note: I had just read the Prisoner of Azkaban again for the hundredth time and couldn't help but feel depressed over the tragic end of the Marauders. They had always been my favourite characters within the series, so I dedicate this to them and their incredible journey as friends. I truly hope I have done their characters justice and that this story manages to evoke a mixture of emotions for those who have come across this story. Do let me know what you all think.
In their final moments
Just as death faces James Potter he finally acknowledges his flaws. Something which until this very moment he had gladly ignored, simply because his positive nature never liked to dwell too much on his weaknesses, but now, wand ready and with every intention to fight to the death James accepts his humanity, and in doing so he comes to an understanding that very few men are able to at a tender age of twenty.
James always knew. Deep down in the dark recesses of his mind he had always known that it was Wormtail, over the past few months the nagging feelings of suspicion had reared its ugly head at him countless times, but the very thought of suspecting one of his best friends would always result in James guiltily shoving it aside. Even when Sirius had voiced his suspicions about Remus James had kept quiet, not encouraging it yet neither denying it. Too terrified to comprehend that the traitor could be a best friend. The thought beyond comprehensible, because surely that is what they had all been, best friends, brothers; bonded for life. Or that is what he had thought, confident that he could place the life of his precious family in the hands of a man he considered to be a brother.
When did it all go so horribly wrong? Why did he never realise that along the way he had made a serious misjudgement of character? How did it never occur to him that Peter Pettigrew who always went along with their plans could equally betray him just like anyone else? James realises that he doesn't know the answer to these questions, but at this moment what he does know is that he has been far too overconfident, a characteristic he had always prided himself with but now can't help but despise.
So in the last moment of his rather short life James Potter finally matures as a sinking feeling resides in his gut that this time he will not get away with it.
The hero, the popular prince, the one who everybody had always loved had stupidly opened the door to his own demise, his arrogance had led him to eagerly agree with Sirius, It had been the perfect plan as they had boasted couple of weeks ago, no one would ever realise that someone as dim-witted as Pettigrew could ever be the secret Keeper—not even Dumbledore, and the best part of it all is that Pettigrew would go along with it. How could he not? He always went along with it.
But they had been wrong, it wasn't Peter who had been the idiot but them, because along the way they had somehow fooled themselves into thinking that the number of OWLS and NEWTS made them far more intelligent than Wormtail. His self-righteous attitude had ultimately led him to being oblivious to many things about Peter Pettigrew over the years, even though it was clear as day, and why? Simply because he hated to admit that he had been wrong all along. So James never questioned why Pettigrew had always been the reluctant one out of the four, the one who always hid in the shadows—the one who was always quick to denounce any involvement with their pranks at any sign of trouble. Even the flashes of anger in Pettigrew's eyes when they laughed at him because he was always the butt of their jokes evaded James' attention or the fact that Pettigrew had befriended them solely for their protection.
It was never brotherly friendship meant to last a lifetime but merely a weakling living of a stronger host.
Almost parasitical like. His loyalty never extended beyond his own selfish needs, which meant that as soon as he had found stronger host to latch himself on to he had no need for his friends, the very people who would have risked their lives for him in a heartbeat and now his family must pay the ultimate price. That is what hits James Potter hard when he sees the cloaked figure entering his home.
"Lily take Harry and run, I'll ward him off." He yells while rushing downstairs. No fear graced his thoughts. Simply bitter longing. He had hoped to see his son grow, watch him with pride as he received his Hogwarts letter, take him to Quidditch matches, tell him about his school days, watch his expression as he handed him down the marauders ma—, but just then a shot of blinding green light makes it way towards his chest, so quickly that he doesn't have time to defend himself, and just like that James Potter thinks no more as his body crashes to the ground.
All life and vitality gone in a flash, along with sweet dreams for the future.
It isn't until those last few minutes of his tragic life does Sirius Black finally feel liberated. It seems that despite his continuous efforts it isn't until this very moment he finally achieves what he has been seeking for so long.
He had always been the reckless one, the daring one, the handsome one with the devil may care attitude to complete the whole package, and that is what they all saw, an enigma, and swirling behind those steely grey fathomless eyes is a mystery waiting to be solved, but he was no mystery.
Just caged, looking desperately for an escape route.
His jailors had once upon a time been the Blacks. The day he had been born had been the day he entered into servitude, but dutiful he was not, especially when it meant serving a cause he could never understand, and so left without a second a thought.
Running away with that Motorcycle and a leather jacket. Just as he had seen dashing heroes do countless times in those Muggle movies. So with the wind in his hair he sped away with Prongs, both lost in their dreams. Their youth betraying their judgement as they rushed into countless dangers, one after another, and it didn't matter the slightest if they faced death, because tonight they are young and had nothing to lose, hell with the consequences—tonight he is not Sirius Black, but Padfoot.
A Marauder.
That is his identity. His freedom or so he thought.
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the events that would unfold, the bodies of his best friends strewn across the floor, lifeless, pale and gone. Leaving him to carry on the battle. He never did stop fighting—not even in Azkaban. He had always been fighter and as long as he could do so meant that he had control over his fate, but that all changed the moment he walked through the doors of number 12 Grimmauld place again. Never did he think he would be back in this decrepit house. The very emblem of everything he had ever fought against. Even Azkaban had nothing on number 12. He would gladly do twelve years again Sirius thinks bitterly as he surveys the walls of the mansion. It stood tall and grand, mocking him and for a second he almost has the selfish urge to leave, to not return, but that feeling passes as quickly as it came. Any thoughts of running is cowardice at its best, and he might be a lot of things but coward he is not. Then out of nowhere a white beam enters the kitchen, and in doing so erases all prior thoughts, so despite the efforts and protests of others he runs to aid of his Godson in full determination.
Not once did he hesitate or even second guess his decision, not even when the curse hits him squarely in the chest because Sirius Black had always been a fighter.
The result of his sudden death had been the contribution of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. He couldn't help but muse at the irony that the very blood he is born into would be the cause of his swift departure, but he doesn't feel pain or even regret. So as his last breath leaves his lips the laughter doesn't quite die from his face because he finally feels the shackles breaking away as he waits in anticipation for his next adventure.
The last thought which enters the mind of Peter Pettigrew is how ironic life had turned out to be.
Despite a lifetime of fear, of constant anxiety and licking the boots of others his departure resulted not in the hands of others, but instead his very own.
It is with those words "I saved your life," which evoked a brief impulse of mercy within him. For a minute he took in the features of Harry Potter and is reminded of James. A millisecond of nostalgia and hesitation had all it taken for his silver companion to realise that a rat is always a rat.
Pettigrew was never like his friends, something which he had been constantly reminded by peers and teachers alike during his school days. The difference between himself and the other three was such that he wondered why an earth he was their friend in the first place and why he even carried on the companionship over the years. The answer isn't something he would discover until much later and when he did he immediately felt disgusted. Almost as if he had been living a lie the whole time. That he couldn't possibly be a Gryffindor, in fact he remembers internally questioning himself many times why the hat had placed him in the house which boasted bravery and nobleness. During his former years as a student he had told himself that there was a streak of bravery in him, there must be, but as the years took its toll on him he found out the hard way that he was not only not brave but in fact incredibly cowardly and he hated it.
He despised himself, and yet it is in isolation that he felt most at comfort. The duplicity of his nature shocked him to the core and as a young boy he had hoped that the others wouldn't find out. That they wouldn't see what he sees in the mirror every day so he carried on playing the idiotic Peter Pettigrew.
The unacknowledged marauder because it meant that he had a little snippet of the glory and that is all he had ever asked for, until he was promised more. Greed got the better of him. To such an extent that he didn't even hesitate for a second to inform the whereabouts of the Potters, and how could he? Because now the underdog would reign as king.
However, as his hand slowly strangled him to death he watched the son of his former best friend—the man he had betrayed rush to his aid, it is then that Wormtail realises how pathetic his existence has been and that he had been wrong, so wrong. The greatness of James, Sirius, and Remus had not been in their good looks, wittiness or even their disregard for the rules, but instead it had always been in their ability to find the goodness in others even when they didn't see it in themselves.
They had befriended him because they believed in him, and it is with this last thought Pettigrew succumbs to death with remorse and regret that he hadn't lived up to their expectations.
Remus Lupin had never thought he would outlive his friends. He had never admitted this to the others but the thought of death had always welcomed him, especially during his transformations. The pain was such that he always thought death would suit him better.
From a very young age his identity in this world had been determined by something which he had no control over.
A monster—was what people saw, so his parents had tried in earnest to give him a good upbringing, to such an extent that when he would finally enter into wizarding society people would see him as a good person. Not a werewolf, so Lupin tried hard to remember to be extra polite. He always said please when he wanted something, rushed to say thank you when he got it and never failed to keep his voice lowered, but as he grew older he began to see the flaw within the plan.
No matter how nice he was others would never forget that he is a Werewolf, politeness did little to change that, and Remus began to feel like a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing. His true nature is something he could never evade and that led to a spiral of self-loathing.
It isn't until he is at school does he finally relish at the thought of his other half because he finally has friends, who not only accept him for who he is but finds the fact that he is a werewolf to being the most exciting thing they had ever heard, so Remus plays along with their exploits, even if it means that he is putting their lives in danger, because it meant that for the first time he actually begins to think that being a Werewolf was the best thing to ever have happened to him.
School years had ended fast, and reality sinks in. Jobless and impoverished Remus finds his life in twists in turns, and it isn't until he meets Nymphadora Tonks does he once again begin to feel like a school boy again, and he is immediately shocked at the thought. Far too old, far too poor he had told himself over and over again.
But just like his school days he once again guiltily pushes his thoughts aside and the next thing he knows he has married the women, and she is carrying his child. Once again reality sinks in, he tries to run and convinces himself that it is better that way until sharp words from his former best friend's son knocks some sense into him. So in his last moments Remus is thinking about Harry, how like James he is, and about his wife and new born son. A swell of pride erupts within him as he finally feels grateful to having lived the life that he had lived. So full of passion, mischiefs, hardships and most of all being surrounded by people who had always loved him for who he is, not what he is.
And with that thought Remus Lupin embraces death with welcome arms.
