I suppose it will be said that all things happen for a reason. Someday, in the not-so-distant future, a student at Hogwarts will sit in his History of Magic class, and he will see that reason.
I myself do not.
For one who has always obeyed the rules, for one who has always done what was expected of him, I have borne witness to so much darkness.
The light, if such a thing exists, seems very far away now.
If I bothered to look out the window, I would see a perfect sliver of a crescent moon, bathing the night in soft silver. I would see a velvet black sky, twinkling with countless stars.
I would see that there is beauty in the night.
They're out there, right now. Gloating, plotting…enjoying what they have done.
There is no beauty in the darkness. Tonight, there is only sorrow.
Another grave. Another monument in stone, garnished with a flower. Another friend dead before his time.
Why do I remain? Why couldn't it have been me?
I would have died for Sirius. I would have died for James.
Now I live without them. Forever.
They rest in their untimely graves, flesh and bone slowly decaying into dust.
I carry my grave within me. And it is just as dark, just as cold, and just as final. But it bears no epitaph, no quiet granite dignity. It will not withstand the elements.
It barely withstands the next reluctant beat.
The rest of the Order would tell me that I remain for a reason. I remain to help fight the good fight, to see that Voldemort falls again.
But I see no reason. Not for anything. Not anymore.
I see the empty void where once two smiling, carefree friends stood. I see the past, the mistakes that were made, the love forged in solidarity.
Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. We will forget the fourth name, for now.
No, we will not forget.
Wormtail…I have not forgotten you. When we meet again, my deceitful, murderous false friend, I will show you what happens when a werewolf has no company during the full moon. I will show you what an angry werewolf, unfettered by chains, does to those who betray.
If that isn't something to live for…nothing is.
No, I am not dead. I still breathe, I still think, I can even formulate words. I can tell Harry, moments after his godfather was struck down, that he's dead and even sound casual about it. I can insist to the Order that I'm all right, that Sirius's death is just more reason to go on. I can paste on that Gryffindor facade, that brave, stoic front, until I practically see the world in shades of red and gold.
If there were a Lupin House, its colors would be black, black, and black.
It's such a fine line, really, between that which is dark, and that which is light. Voldemort and his minions, they are far from that line, plunged in the foulest, dankest dark imaginable. My comrades in the Order, they shimmer with light, oblivious to the soft, tentative line drawn.
The line I find myself standing on. Tonight, possibly forever.
I would gladly embrace the dark, if I could be rid of it. If I could hold the darkness, if I could suffocate it out of this world, I would do so.
If the dark would help me to avenge my brothers, if the dark would bring me reason, bring me an answer…
I would gladly close my eyes to the light forever.
Someday, in the not-so-distant future, when that Hogwarts student opens his text book, and reads about these dark days…when my grave comes out of hiding to claim me at last…
I hope he finds reason. I hope he finds a happy ending. I hope he realizes the blood spilled, the lives ruined, to bring him the world he takes for granted.
He will read about the Boy-Who-Lived. He will read about Sirius Black, the first man to escape from Azkaban, the criminal who disappeared without a trace. He will never know about the affectionate black dog that licked the pained face of a chained werewolf to comfort it. He will never read the unwritten chapter about the devoted godfather that sacrificed the life he had so recently recovered for the son of his best friend.
He will read about the Order of the Phoenix, and the Death Eaters. It will all be there, neatly scrawled on parchment. It may inspire a class discussion, it may even win the devotion of two class periods, and then the book will close, and class will be dismissed. Sunshine will beckon, as will unusually warm weather, and we will be forgotten.
We will be but a memory. A flickering candle of the past that once raged pure and hot, but eventually drowned in its own pool of melted wax.
I can almost hear them laughing, Sirius and James. Come on, Moony, lighten up. Put your journal away, have a bit of fun. It's not as bad as all that.
I wish I could believe them.
I wish they were here.
At least they have each other now. James, Lily, Sirius…they're all together, somewhere.
Somewhere far away, where Voldemort can't hurt them ever again.
That must be my solace. That must be my light.
Someday, I will join them. Someday, we will meet again.
I long for that day, more than anything. I long for the old days, for our innocence, for our laughter, even our tears.
But before I can go quietly into oblivion, before my grave can welcome me home, I must complete the work we all started.
I must bring back the light. For Harry, for memory, for all of it….
Tomorrow is for Sirius. The day after that will be for James. And the day after that, I will live for Lily.
I will live for them, if I can no longer live for myself.
You will not die in vain. Moony promises you that.
You lost the battle. But we will win the war. And once we do, I will come to you with a smile, and we will be together again.
Forever.