I almost didn't go. Going meant seeing him, and everyone else he's hurt. Or supposedly hurt. Don't kid yourself, Remus: who else could it have been? He was their Secret-Keeper...

I'm not entirely sure why I went. But I did. Office of Magical Misconduct, Justice Division, November the 8th, 1981. The courtroom was less full than I expected, but then again, everyone knew the verdict already. I took a seat in the middle of the fifth row and awkwardly sat down. Dumbledore was in the third row over to my right: he looked extremely grave. Marsha, Sirius's mother, was cloaked in black, sobbing in the first row. Her husband Orion was sitting dazed beside her.

The chair on the podium in the center of the room was still empty. I shifted uncomfortably. When he came in, he'd be right in front of me. He'd be looking right at me.

Nine o'clock arrived sooner than anybody wanted it to, and several doors opened. Mr. Crouch, the judge, entered from the left and climbed the stairs to his pulpit-like perch over the courtroom. Several nominal jurors filed in and took up the first two rows in front of Dumbledore. I realized, for some reason, that I did not see Mrs. Pettigrew. I would have thought she'd be here. No, I reasoned, it'd be too painful, facing the man who left but a finger of her son.

And you, Moony, why are you here?

Don't call me Moony! I snarled to myself, and instantly felt tears well up in my eyes. Don't call me that...

I held them, though. I had to. The door behind the chair slowly fell open, and he stood there, expressionless, pinned between two grim-faced guards. I watched as they marched him forward, sat him on that lonely chair, and tied him down with conjured ropes. He did not fight them; he only sat still, glaring accusingly into the audience. At me. I glared back.

I'd never seen him looking so awful. His clothes were ripped and dirty presumably from the explosion where he killed Peter and his face was thin and completely devoid of its normal good humor. His hair was oily, and his eyes swollen. He wore no shoes.

"Sirius Black," Mr. Crouch's voice rang out, "you are accused of consorting with the Dark Lord, of breaking the Fidelius Charm, and of the murder of James Potter, Lily Potter, Peter Pettrigrew, and twelve Muggles on the streets of London between October 31st and November the first." I could see his eyes flash at the mention of Lily and James, and his nails ground into the chair when Peter was named, but other than that, he did not move. We continued to stare at each other, oblivious to the world

How many times did I hear teachers tell him despairingly he'd end up in Azkaban? Well, Sirius, who's laughing now?

I heard Mrs. Black's muffled crying as she bit into her handkerchief. Her son made no attempt to look at her. I wondered if I should go to her, after the trial. I wondered if she'd want to see me.

"-- It is therefore my solemn duty to condemn you to a life sentence in Azkaban, as punishment for your deeds --"

I broke eye contact for the first and only time when Crouch said that. No trial? They aren't even going to pretend to have a trial? I know I must have looked startled, because when I looked back at Sirius a thin, mocking smile had played across his stony features.

See? And you as well. You think it was me.

Well? Who else could it have been?

I watched as one of the guards snapped Sirius's wand. Mrs. Black screamed as it cracked resoundingly around the otherwise silent room, and Mr. Black numbly put his arm around her.

"-- where you shall remain for the rest of your natural life --"

The guards lifted the chair, and it slowly spun around until his back was facing me. He didn't say anything. The ropes disappeared and the guards each took and arm and they marched him through the door again. Several people in the room were crying, some with grief, some with satisfaction. Dumbledore bowed his head. Crouch sat down with a severe look in his face. I stood up, still glaring at the empty seat.

Thus ends Padfoot, I thought, rogue, traitor, murderer, and best friend.

I left the courtroom, having said not one word, and headed for a pub. The glaring sunlight outside made the situation all the more unnatural. As I sat at the deserted counter of the Leaky Cauldron, I found myself sifting through memories and doing my best to dispose of them. By the time I left, Sirius Black had never been anything more than a dog worthy for the dementors.

* * *

I don't know how the Marauder's Map resurfaced, after all those years in Filch's cabinet. And how Harry came by it, I'm almost afraid to ask. But, I had to admit, it was kind of nice having it back again, and at my leisure and disposal, since I -- I! -- was a teacher now. I watched Dumbledore examining portraits of past headmasters in his office, while Snape slunk about his dungeons, brewing up some vile concoction or other.

But I kept my eyes peeled for three dots that were usually clustered together. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the Great Hall, quite alone. They were crossing the floor, probably under the Invisibility Cloak, judging by their closeness. Hagrid needs the support, I'll wager. Losing this hippogriff has hit him quite hard.

They were careful as they headed down the stairs and across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. My mind wandered. Goodness, they were anything but careful towards the end. Probably thought it quite grand that someone they didn't like might show up and see six phantom feet in front of them.

I sighed, even though I meant not to. I still wasn't sure if coming back was a mistake. Ever since... ever since seeing Harry on the train, seeing James in his face every day. The worst thing about Hogwarts, however, was the continual reminder that Sirius had been a human being once. Seeing every broom closet we'd hid in and every corridor that Sirius had let Dungbombs off in and every Quidditch match that James excelled in... there had been many nights this year when I couldn't sleep, because all those memories I'd been siphoning off were coming back, popping up and slinking in and surprising me and nearly driving me to tears sometimes.

My eye wandered back to the Map. Dumbledore and a few others were making their way towards Hagrid's hut. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were scuttling away -- wait -- and who?

I stood up, disbelieving.

Something must be wrong. It must be... my eyes or a malfunction or... or the map is remembering... He can't be there.

I wiped the map, then opened it again. I looked.

Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasly. Peter Pettigrew.

Peter Pettigrew,

He's dead. That can't be right. Sirius killed him, killed him and all those others.

Peter Pettigrew.

His dot had broken free of the trio. At that same moment, another dot shot across the paper. Sirius Black.

How dare he!

But...

I gulped, not really wanting to confront this option.

It can't be. They would surely have told me.

Ron had caught up with the Peter Pettigrew dot. The Sirius Black dot crashed into them.

You think it was me.

Remus, a voice said. Remus, you need to go.

I can't. I can't do that. This can't be happening--

It is.

I stared as all five of the dots entered the Whomping Willow and sped down the tunnel towards the Shrieking Shack.

How...how could Peter have done it? It simply can't be.

There were too many questions. This simply could not be ignored. Even if my conscience was fighting it, an animal instinct was pushing me away from the chair, away from the desk, moving my legs one after another out my door, down the hallway, across the Great Hall, down the castle steps.

I was sixteen again. I reached the Whomping Willow, found a stick, prodded the knot, slipped into the opening. I followed the tunnel, and the trails in the dust, and reached a door.

Moment of truth, Lupin. Are you ready for it?

I remembered Sirius had said something like that the first time they all tried out their Animagi forms. I heard muffled voices on the other side of the door. Then a scream.

"WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK -- QUICK!"

Well. Just the man I wanted to see.