All of this was very nostalgic; the swarms of muggles going about their every day business, unaware of the straggles of wizards disappearing through the brick pillar standing between platforms nine and ten; the amazement on the faces of the students who were experiencing everything for the first time as they burst through the magical barrier; and of course all of the people staring at Remus on both ends as he made his way to the Hogwarts Express. He smiled at the old engine, running his fingers along its paint work as he traipsed, as if on auto pilot, to the car that he and his friends had shared every year they had traveled to Hogwarts in their own schooling years. He pushed the door open and it gave a squeak of recognition; how long had it been since the door had been oiled? Perhaps when the muggles had still owned it. Remus gave a chuckle. He had forgotten the quirks of his fellow wizards: how anything that couldn't be solved with a charm or potion was an utter mystery to them, yet they would rather leave things be than to find a 'muggle solution'.
Remus wished that the start of the school year could have fallen on any other day, as today just so happened to be the night of a full moon, the night he had reserved to losing himself as he turned into a monster. This month would be easier though: Dumbledore had sent Remus seven vials of Wolfsbane potion to take in the week leading up to the full moon; one every night. He had taken his last potion before leaving for the station that evening, as to not attract any further curious glances. Remus yawned. He had forgotten how cozy his seat on the Hogwarts Express had been, and he was suddenly feeling very sleepy. What harm could it do if he took a small nap on the journey. He didn't want to fall asleep during the start of year feast later that night, so it was surely the most sensible option for him to take, it's what a professor would do. Why in the world was he becoming a professor?
. . .
A chilling breeze shot up Remus' arm, startling him awake. The carriage was dark now, and much less cozy than he had left it. He jolted his head to the left, spotting a hooded, horrible creature. Still letting himself wake fully he saw the dementor advancing on a young boy sat next to him, leaning close to perform the kiss. The young boy, Remus realized was his own friend James Potter. Remus sprung up, casting a patronus at the dementor; he wasn't going to stand back and watch his friend die, not again. The boy fell to the ground as the dementor departed, the other two students in the car rushed to where he lay, panic rising in their voices.
"Harry, are you alright?"
"Harry can you hear us?"
How could Remus had been so stupid. Of course the boy in the carriage hadn't been James. For starters James would be thirty-three just as he was now, since his birthday had been only seventeen days after his own, and the other reason was because he was dead, betrayed by one of their friends, by the man Remus had thought he had known better than anybody else in the world, by the man that he had supposed to have married a month after they had carted him off to Azkaban. The young boy he had seen had been Harry: the boy he had held as a new born, the boy who would calm down whenever he was placed in Remus' arms, the boy who's first word had been 'moo': something too close to Moony for James and Sirius not sulk about, the boy who was now being targetted by Sirius; The boy who lived.
"He'll be okay. They didn't perform the kiss."
His voice was hoarse as he addressed the two other students bent over Harry's collapsed figure. He offered out a block of chocolate to the pair of them.
"You two should really eat some of this. It really does help, trust me."