November 3, 1981

The headline proclaimed that he was a murderer. Every inch of the article was dedicated to proving that he was no more than a savage animal, a fiendish beast hardly worthy of life. Lies, thought Remus, staring at the obituary of Peter Pettigrew: even that was completely and utterly untrue. Lost in his thoughts, Remus was taken back to a scene just a few hours earlier, when he had plunged his face into the Pensieve and experienced the memory that had been so hard to proffer.

In a dimly-lit room, two figures were barely discernible from the dark stone walls that surrounded them. The pale, faintly-glowing one, who was seated in an armchair with a snake circling its way around his neck, spoke first.

"And they suspect nothing?"

"N-nothing, my Lord. They have put their f-faith in me."

This short, plump figure had a distinctly recognizable voice. Even if Remus had not been able to see the person, he knew the speaker's identity well: it was none other than the recently-honored (and apparently dead) Peter Pettigrew; both titles, Remus now knew, were undeserved.

"And, Wormtail, has your plan for escape been detailed?"

"Y-yes, my Lord. Black will be in Azkaban, and I will be thought dead very soon…"

The scene had evaporated there, and Remus felt as if he had been at least partially awoken from a nightmare-ridden sleep. He was now certain that Sirius Black, former friend and current Azkaban prisoner, was not guilty of the charges pressed against him: this was proof that it had been Peter, not Sirius, who had given crucial evidence to the Dark Lord.

A stroke of good fortune had greeted Remus earlier that day: unbeknownst to the speakers, one other had glimpsed this scene. The unfortunate news was that it was none other than Severus Snape, known Death Eater and eavesdropper extraordinaire, plus holder of a notorious grudge against the Marauders. Though his most intense dislike was towards his childhood tormentor, James Potter, Snape had never enjoyed the company of Remus. It had taken quite some effort to convince his old enemy to give him access to something this precious, but he had done it: years of lycanthropy made a person tougher, more tenacious.

Shaking himself back into the present, Remus stared solemnly at the photo of one of his best friends gesturing wildly from the front of the Daily Prophet; his hair matted, silently screaming with rage, Sirius looked worse than Remus had ever seen. But Remus was sure that this "madman" was not a murderer.

Since Lily and James had died, it was hard to live with the pain of this loss. Still, he reflected, there was hope to be seen. The circumstances in which he was clueless to Sirius' innocence and Peter's betrayal would have been much less desirable, he decided, his thoughts turning back to the miracle of Harry Potter's survival.

Yes, indeed, hope was just over the horizon.