Thanks to Britzen, my favourite grammar nerd ;), for beta-ing.
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Cloaked
~ by Dawn Zabini~
Chapter One: Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin absent-mindedly tapped the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
The house was cold and dark,
more so than he had ever seen it. Numbly, he walked into the kitchen and
stood at the table for a
moment before turning away abruptly.
He could not.
Remus strode back into the entrance
hall, up the stairs; the tightness in his throat was nearly unbearable.
He walked aimlessly
along the corridors and leaned
against the cold walls, rocking back and forth -barely able to breath-
trying to will the pain in his
chest away
The ministry wizards and the
Aurors had all wanted accounts on what had happened down in the Department
of Mysteries. He
had told his story three or
four times, he didn`t remember how often exactly; he had given them every
detail of the fight, about
... Sirius... and had not felt
a thing. He had been completely indifferent about it, as though he was
not affected by it at all.
After an hour, he had been "allowed to go home," as the witch interrogating him had put it.
Tonks and Shacklebolt had been
taken to St. Mungos for treatment almost immediately upon the arrival of
the ministry wizards;
Mad-Eye Moody had rather pointedly
insisted that he did not need to see a healer to look after his wounds,
but had eventually
given in after Dumbledore had
told him to - though he still had been very reluctant.
Remus vaguely remembered Dumbledore
arranging for the children to be escorted back to Hogwarts after their
injuries had
been taken care of roughly.
He himself had left the moment he was excused, not waiting for Dumbledore
to talk to him, not
wanting to.
He was the only one to return to the Order`s headquarters that night.
Looking up, Remus realized that
he now stood in front of the bedroom door of Mrs. Black. Slowly he opened
the creaking
door, half waiting to see his
friend's form sitting on the floor in twilight.
But he is not here. Nor will he ever be again.
Suddenly he became aware of his
hammering heart - it seemed a bit melancholic that it now
seemed as though it would break
his chest, while mere hours
ago he had thought it had stopped beating altogether.
In the corner opposite
of the giant four-poster bed lay the hippogriff, Buckbeak, seemingly
unmoving, yet observing Remus'
every move with a
painful sharpness.
"You never liked me"
said Remus with a bitterness in his voice that was surprising even
to himself. "You knew me for what
I am straight away."
He slowly moved closer to the
beast and eventually sat down beside the blanket it lay on. The restlessness
that had made it
impossible for him to as much
as stand still for the last few hours was gone.
He gazed across the room at the dirty, greenish tapestry that was coming off the grey wall
"He's dead," he told the Hippogriff tonelessly.
It still lay absolutely motionless, not so much as twitching a muscle.
The silence in the room was almost peaceful, the soft light of the descending moon casting shadows all over the chamber.
After what seemed like hours
to him, Remus thought he heard somebody`s muffled calling. Moments later
a shadow seemed
to cross the portrait that hung
across the room, near the door.
"Ah, there you are!" Phineas Nigellus said in an alomost relieved sounding voice. "I knew that Dumbledore was talking nonsense, I-"
The cloud that had obscured the moon had drifted on and Remus knew a beam of moonlight was now illuminating him dimly.
"You," the former headmaster said almost accusingly. "Where is my great-great-grandson?"
Slowly Remus turned his head towards the portrait which usually showed a pastoral scene, quite rare in the Black-household.
"It.. it's not true." the voice
seemed to falter slightly. "He... he's not dead?" The last word was spoken
as though that thought
alone was utterly ridiculous,
but there was also some dread in the question.
Looking right into the eyes of
the portrait Remus nodded almost unnoticeably. "I... that can't, I..."
Phineas stammered, something
that Remus had never heared
him do before. Then he was gone, off to his own portrait in Grimmauld Place,
or back to his portrait
in Dumbledore's office in Hogwarts,
Remus did not really care.
The tightness
in his throat had only intensified and he noticed he was shivering
despite the warm summer breeze that came in
through
the window.
He could not cry.
He sat there staring into the
dark, waiting for the tears to come, but they did not. My best friend
is dead and I cannot cry a single
tear for him, Remus thought
angrily.
Fourteen years ago, when James
and Lily had died, he had cried for them,
for Peter, as ironic as that now seemed, and
also because
of Sirius' betrayal. He had
been angry and furious, and the following
transformation had been more painful than ever.
Two years ago he had found out
the truth about the happenings and had gotten back his best friend after
all these years. The man
with whom he had spent
a major part of the last year, the man who was like a brother to
him.
The man who had died tonight.
I will never talk to him again, never see him, never hear him laugh again.
The knot in his chest was so painful
that he had to force himself to breath steadily,
it ached and he wanted to cry, feeling he owed
it to himself and to the man
who was now dead, but he could not. Sirius.
Suddenly he felt a movement at his side and before he could realize it, Buckbeak's head lay heavily in his lap.
For a moment he did not move,
did not even breath. Then he slowly lowered his hand onto the big, feathery
head and started
stroking the Hippogriff.
You'd want that, Sirius, wouldn't
you? He thought to himself. You want
me to take care of your Hippogriff for you. To his
own surprise he chuckled silently.
Or him of me.
They continued sitting there
in the darkness, silently comforting each other. And, for the first time
in many years, the moonlight felt soothing.
~end Chapter One~
