Epilogue

"We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower
that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense
unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every
language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
-- Joseph Roux --

The warm grains of sand engulfed his feet, as he pushed them downwards, and out of sight. A moment later, the cool water swept upwards, finding its way down between the granules.

He could feel the increased weight, as he pulled his feet back upwards, and stood…gazing peacefully out into the distance, where the sea met the sky.

Though he was theoretically still an escaped convict, Sirius could honestly confess that he had never felt so free. Before Azkaban, the threat of Voldemort haunted his every action…but now…he was in a place where there was nothing to fear aside from fear itself, and only the horrors which he had witnessed in his life could cause any harm.

Sirius turned, the wind sweeping his robes upward as he walked cheerfully back up the beach and towards the cliff.

Carefully avoiding the aggressive crabs, which sometimes hid between the rocks, he entered the cave, where the embers of the fire were still glowing. His food parcel from Remus lay unopened, ready to be eaten sometime soon when the local supply of fish and scavenged fruit had been exhausted. Alongside the parcel lay an envelope. He patted Buckbeak gently as he collapsed to the ground onto the pile of blankets he had assembled as a makeshift bed. A moment later the envelope had been torn open.

He pulled out the letter that lay within, a cream coloured sheet, folded neatly in half and coated in emerald ink. Remus wasn't rich enough to afford a family seal.

Dear Padfoot,

I hope this letter reaches you, wherever you are. I am going to use one of the Hogwarts owls, shortly before I leave the school.

Yes, I have sadly found myself in the position where resignation is unavoidable. You are probably wondering why I have left…you wouldn't be the only one. After Hagrid brought me from the forest this morning; I couldn't face the prospect of spending another year at the school with the horrors of last night always fresh in my memory.

Saving Peter was a noble deed, but it would have meant little to anyone if I had killed him, let alone Harry, Ron and Hermione. Please accept my apologies for any harm I caused you. It was entirely unprovoked, yet unfortunately in the character of the monster… as you know all too well from the past.

I find myself struggling to write now, as I sit here next to my belongings that have already been packed. I suppose, you could say, it would be too difficult to stay at Hogwarts. I need some time alone, to think about what happened.

It's not everyday that you find out everything you have thought for the past decade is a lie. To say it has been a shock is an underestimate. I need to take a good few weeks to reflect on the whole thing and figure out what happens next. Not just professionally, but personally.

I hope you'll understand if I don't write again for a while. Enjoy the food!

Then there was a mark where the name 'Remus J. Lupin' had been written, but scribbled out.

-Moony

Sirius smiled, happily yet longingly. In many ways his life had been easy compared to the monthly torture Remus suffered.

James was dead. Remus was a werewolf and Peter had spent a third of his life as a rat. Perhaps Sirius had been the lucky one. 12 years in Azkaban had shielded him from the goings on in the world, the hurt…the suffering.

He didn't have to go through the agony of Lily and James's funeral, or sit grimly as the rest of the wizarding world celebrated Voldemort's downfall. He had been locked away from all that. Locked away from the pain.

His life now had meaning again. Revenge is an idle goal…destined to lead nowhere. But knowing that Harry, Remus, Dumbledore and others had faith and trust in him, was a feeling greater then any which Sirius had known since his childhood.

As he slept that night, his dreams…for the first time in years stayed optimistic and joyful, never drifting into the horrific nightmares that plagued Azkaban inmates. Never twisting themselves into bizarre fantasies of revenge and retribution.

His joy was ignorant though; ignorant to what the future would bring…. ignorant to the eventual fate that awaited him.

Sirius Black. 1960-1996.