(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, and my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
The snow had fallen even heavier upon London that night. It was the eve before Christmas, and the entire world was sleeping. All except Lupin, who was doing some last minute wrapping in the corner as the other three slept. He had given up his mattress to Sirius, since he knew that he wouldn't be resting at all that night. Sirius was already snoring, in tune with James from the other room.
A book about spells and transfiguration for Peter. A Quidditch poster for James (even though he had the feeling that he was going to be poked fun at for such a present. For James was "mature" now, and didn't collect Chudley Cannon merchandise any longer). And a knife to open any door for Sirius. Yes, it would be the perfect Christmas.
Remus had written his mother earlier that evening, and had told her all about how he was doing. How he was making sure to get his work done before the end of the week.
But something was still stuck in the back of his mind. Something that Sirius had said at the Leaky Cauldron.
"And what's wrong with you lately? You're more . . . how do I put it . . . willing to jump down our backs?"
He had been right. Remus had fully enclosed himself in his studies, hoping that he would get enough marks to become a teacher .
He wasn't like Sirius. He couldn't just read something, and know it. He had to actually study it. Learn it. Drool over it before it penetrated his skull.
Sirius didn't understand anyone but himself. And Remus thought that he probably didn't want to.
"Need help?"
Remus looked up, and saw the pudgy face of Peter, head raised from his pillow on the couch. Remus shrugged, "If you want to, I guess."
Peter didn't seem like he wanted to, but he crawled out of bed anyway, and dragged himself to the spot where Remus was wrapping the two remaining presents. James's and Sirius's.
"James is right, you know," Peter said, taking the Spell-o-Tape, "We are growing up."
Remus nodded, "I don't think he fully understands that. Or at least Sirius doesn't."
"Sirius doesn't understand anything," Peter agreed sadly, and then sighed a tired sigh. Remus patted him on the back. Sirius always gave Peter a hard time. And he would never stop giving him a hard time.
"You know," Peter said, breaking the tape into pieces, "I never felt like one of the group."
"I know how you feel sometimes," Remus said, "With those two like they are, carrying on with their tricks, and pranks, and great plans to get us all killed ."
"But you liked it," Peter said, his face turning red, "Didn't you?"
Remus smiled, and then said, "Every minute of it."
Peter grew quiet, and then went back to wrapping Sirius's present.
"What about you?" Remus asked.
Peter shrugged, and then took the tape out of his mouth, and stuck it to the gift.
The night turned into day quickly, and Peter fell asleep on the floor after they had set out all of the gifts, dressed the table, etc. Remus had taken his spot on the couch, and had put in two hours of a good night's rest. And even if the sleep only lasted for a short while, the dream seemed to go on for an eternity . . .
He was laying in the Shrieking Shack, defenseless. The wolf was on the other side of the room, snarling. Clawing at the floor.
Breathing in and out.
Staring at him.
He was down. There was nothing else to do. It was over with. He was dead.
And the wolf turned into the man that he had seen in the woods years ago. The one that had bit him. He smiled, and cackled at him, "You are a monster."
And slowly, the man turned to Professor Klien. Then, finally to Professor June.
"I will not die," he shouted, the music box chiming behind him.
June stared into Remus's eyes, hurting. Yet . . . free . . .
"I will not die," he repeated.
"What?" Remus gasped from his spot on the floor. Where was James and Sirius and Peter? Where were they? What was this thing in front of him? Who was it? It couldn't be June! June had left years ago!
"I will not die," he said again, and Remus felt himself grow stronger. He sat, and stared at the man who had . . . yes . . . died!
"But you are dead!" he shouted back.
"I will not die!"
"Stop saying that!" Remus stood to his feet now, very angry with June, "You're dead! You died a long time ago!"
"I will not die!"
And all of a sudden, in front of his eyes, June shifted form.
"I will not die!"
In front of him, stood the figure of an older man. He wasn't old, he knew that. But he looked older. His graying hair mixed with his brown locks, and his robes were shabby. Remus knew this man. He knew him very well.
"I. Will. Not. Die," this man cried out to him, and Remus felt himself racing forward, towards himself.
And then he was falling.
"Wake up, everyone! It's morning!"
Peter's voice sounded from inside his head, and his eyes snapped open. His friend was standing over the display they had made that night, and Sirius was yawning from his cornered mattress. James exited his bedroom, mussing his hair. He stretched, and then saw the presents that Remus had wrapped added to their own pile that the other three had brought.
"Oh, Moony," he said, "You didn't have to get me anything. You shouldn't have."
"I know I shouldn't have," Remus smiled, and threw him his present, "And don't thank me until you've seen what it is."
James unwrapped it, and then gasped with surprise.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, "I didn't think they had this one still in print. Thank you!" Sirius snorted, and James looked to him quickly, and back at Remus, "I mean, it's great. Thanks," he said a little less enthusiastic.
"Thank you, Sirius," Peter squeaked from across the room. He brandished an album that was looking very Muggle-ish. James laughed, and then shook his head.
"You really need to get another place to live, mate," he said, and went for the next present.
"And it's a beautiful 1977 Christmas here in London today," the voice came over the "radio." The boys were trying to listen while they took the newly arrived food from the front door to the kitchen for preparing.
"A radio, hey?" Remus said as he took the delivery boxes out of the bags, "Very interesting. And it talks by itself?"
"No," Sirius said, "I'm not exactly how it works. I just know how to turn it on and off, and this is the only stupid voice I can get out of it. It's supposed to get more, but I have no idea how to work it."
James laughed, and opened one of the styrofoam boxes. Mashed potatoes.
"You can't burn a place down with delivery," Remus commented, and then set the turkey slices they had purchased on a plate.
They had four sacks' worth of food. That was sixteen boxes to empty, pile together, and throw in the trash bin. But soon the Christmas songs were playing happily on the radio, and they were all seated around the small table in his living room, eating to their hearts' desires.
"And so, then I said to her," Sirius said, gulping his wine that they had brought out of his "frigidaire," "What do you mean you're not going to go the Graduation Dance with me? And you know what she said?"
"What? That you were an arrogant git?" James laughed, eating his potatoes.
"Well, something like that," Sirius replied, and then sighed, "I've got no one to go to the Graduation Dance with. What a damn bloody world this is."
"Well, how about you ask Elise?" Remus asked, and cut into his turkey.
"Elise?" Sirius leaned back on his chair, "Oh, I don't think so. She's . . ."
"Fawning over you the entire time that you've known her," James finished, "Come on now, Padfoot. Now don't tell me that you're scared of a girl."
"I'm not scared, thanks," Sirius slammed back on all four chair's feet, "Fine. You don't think that I can ask her, I will. And it will be the greatest night of my life. I'll bet you anything on it."
"And what about you two?" James asked, "You two have anyone that you're looking into asking?"
"No," Remus said, "That's the night of a full moon. I've already checked."
"You're kidding," Sirius said, "Talk about bad timing."
"I was thinking maybe one of Lily's friends would like to go with me," Peter said meekly, pleading with James with his big eyes, "I mean, I . . . she has an awful lot of them . . . maybe one would . . . "
"I'll ask her," James said, "We can probably find someone."
"Wait," Sirius said, and leaned in to Remus, "You mean that we're not going to be there with you for your last transformation at Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, I guess not," Remus said glumly, and took a drink of his wine.
"Well, that just isn't fair!" Sirius exclaimed, and set his fork down with a clank, "We need to celebrate our seven years of marauding with one final hooray, don't we?"
"What are you implying, Padfoot?" James asked.
"That we ditch the dance, and hide out with Moony," he said, smiling, "I'm not giving up our last night . . . and, of course, your well being, Moony," he added, "To go joy dance with a bunch of giggly girls? Now come on, Prongs, what kind of friends would we be if we did such a thing?"
"Friends that don't want to go to the trouble of asking a certain giggly girl out," James smiled, and then Sirius shook his head.
"No, we would be selfish friends," he said, "We would be completely selfish friends. Letting poor little Moony walk down that long dark tunnel by himself, scratching and clawing himself to death . . ."
"All right, we know," Remus stopped him.
"So we should just skip the whole stupid Graduation Dance, and maraud one last time. Agreed, everyone?"
"Agreed!" Peter said with anticipation. But James was toying with his food.
"Sirius, I asked Lily to the dance," he said, "I can't go. I have to take her."
Sirius groaned, and Remus said, "It's all right, James. We understand. Don't we, Padfoot?"
Sirius felt a foot kick his leg under the table, and he muttered, "Yeah. Right. It's fine, Prongs. Don't worry about it."
They finished their meal, and then decided to get out of the house. It was cluttered with boxes, paper sacks, plates, presents, ribbons, bows . . . it was a pigsty.
So Sirius had grabbed his keys (not wanting to clean the mess up at the moment), and announced that they were going to Diagon Alley for some more fun.
"It's sort of a pity that that's the only real place we can go that's magical in this town," Remus said, "Unless you want to stand on Platform 9 ¾, or visit the Ministry of Magic."
Diagon Alley was just how they had left it a week ago. Crowded, the snow still magically falling. They made their way to the end of the street, then doubled back, looking at the stores for anything that would interest all of them. But they had looked at most of this last weekend, and all four boys seemed terribly bored.
Mr. Ollivander's store was coming into focus, and Sirius found himself staring at it in interest. He remembered what the old man had said to him years ago, about how he thought that the wand he had purchased couldn't have worked for him.
"Only someone of a brave and loyal heart could truthfully hold it in their hands. Unicorn hair is very pure in spirit. That is why I believed it wouldn't work for you, Mr. Black."
"Hey, guys," he said, running in front of them towards the shop, "I'll be back in a minute. Meet me at the Quidditch shop, all right?"
The three boys really didn't any other choice, but to nod and let him enter the store.
It was still musty and filled with dust that swirled in the air above Sirius's head. The boxes of wands stood in tall piles and touched the ceiling. One string of lights hung from the corners of the wall, and blinked different colors.
"Er . . . Mr. Ollivander?" he said uncertain to the vacant room.
He probably wasn't here. It was Christmas, wasn't it? What sort of mental case would be working full time by himself on Christmas?
But sure enough, Mr. Ollivander entered from a back room, untouched by age. He was exactly the way that he had been two years ago when Sirius had come with Remus.
"Ah, Mr. Black," Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, seeing Sirius standing in his store once again, "I knew it. I told you that that couldn't be the right wand for you. And now, seven years after you bought it, it hasn't done you justice, has it?"
"Why do you think that it wouldn't work for me?" Sirius asked. It was more of a demand or an order, and Mr. Ollivander looked very surprised.
"Well, I thought that it would be obvious," he said, and then headed for the back room.
"What? What would be obvious?" Sirius demanded of him, and the old man turned around to look at him increduously.
"I know every wand I've sold," Mr. Ollivander said, "And I know every person that I have sold them to. I see you, Mr. Black. And I wonder to myself, why would a unicorn hair . . . which is truly pure is spirit . . . choose to work for a boy that is being pulled two ways? Down two separate paths?"
"What?" Sirius remembered now what James had said about him being off of his rocker. He had to be. He wasn't being pulled anywhere. He led himself wherever he damn well pleased. . .
"Mr. Black," Mr. Ollivander continued, "Seven years ago, how did you think your life would turn out?"
Sirius blinked. What? What was he going on about?
"Well, I thought that it would be like my parents told me," he said, not knowing to trust him or not, "I'd be in Slytherin, I'd marry someone from Slytherin, have children, and they'd . . . "
"Go to Slytherin," Mr. Ollivander finished for him, and then nodded, "Curious."
"What's curious?"
Mr. Ollivader smiled, and then said, "And yet your future holds greater things than what your parents wanted for you. I see that you have made friends with the 'wrong sort,' and you are loyal to them, are you not?"
"Of course I am," Sirius said.
"Well, then you have answered your own question," Mr. Ollivander said, "Two paths. Two separate lives. We all have fates, Mr. Black. It is up to us to choose if we wish to acknowledge that fate and accept the outcome, or veer in a different direction and hope for the best. You are torn between these two. I can see it in your eyes, Mr. Black."
Sirius blinked, and then stared at him. Who was this man? How did he know everything about him? How did he understand this?
"Now, if you don't mind asking, what did you come in here for?" Mr. Ollivander continued like nothing had happened, "If you weren't looking for a new wand . . . "
"I better get going," Sirius said quickly, and let himself out of the door.
That night, the four boys sat on the worn couch, watching a Christmas T.V. special on one of the local channels. James thought it was very funny how the people in the screen wouldn't react to what he was saying to them, and other nonmagical things about this device.
Sirius had been very quiet since he had left Ollivanders. Remus had tried to get him to talk about it, but there had been no such luck. He had sat next to him, just in case he wanted to talk about it in the middle of the movie, but he had been stubborn and had kept silent through the entire film, unless James made a comment that made him laugh.
It was the closest thing to a good memory that they would have for a long time. Years from now, the four of them would look back on that early morning, when they were all smiling and eating together, and feel the warmth of the snowy day again. They were not children anymore, all of them realized that now.
And it was that night that the world fell apart, from right underneath their feet. And nothing would ever be the same. All of their petty little arguments about who would win the Quidditch Cup, every jealous thought that Sirius had had about Lily, every worry of James would look miniscule to what they were about to encounter.
The snow had fallen even heavier upon London that night. It was the eve before Christmas, and the entire world was sleeping. All except Lupin, who was doing some last minute wrapping in the corner as the other three slept. He had given up his mattress to Sirius, since he knew that he wouldn't be resting at all that night. Sirius was already snoring, in tune with James from the other room.
A book about spells and transfiguration for Peter. A Quidditch poster for James (even though he had the feeling that he was going to be poked fun at for such a present. For James was "mature" now, and didn't collect Chudley Cannon merchandise any longer). And a knife to open any door for Sirius. Yes, it would be the perfect Christmas.
Remus had written his mother earlier that evening, and had told her all about how he was doing. How he was making sure to get his work done before the end of the week.
But something was still stuck in the back of his mind. Something that Sirius had said at the Leaky Cauldron.
"And what's wrong with you lately? You're more . . . how do I put it . . . willing to jump down our backs?"
He had been right. Remus had fully enclosed himself in his studies, hoping that he would get enough marks to become a teacher .
He wasn't like Sirius. He couldn't just read something, and know it. He had to actually study it. Learn it. Drool over it before it penetrated his skull.
Sirius didn't understand anyone but himself. And Remus thought that he probably didn't want to.
"Need help?"
Remus looked up, and saw the pudgy face of Peter, head raised from his pillow on the couch. Remus shrugged, "If you want to, I guess."
Peter didn't seem like he wanted to, but he crawled out of bed anyway, and dragged himself to the spot where Remus was wrapping the two remaining presents. James's and Sirius's.
"James is right, you know," Peter said, taking the Spell-o-Tape, "We are growing up."
Remus nodded, "I don't think he fully understands that. Or at least Sirius doesn't."
"Sirius doesn't understand anything," Peter agreed sadly, and then sighed a tired sigh. Remus patted him on the back. Sirius always gave Peter a hard time. And he would never stop giving him a hard time.
"You know," Peter said, breaking the tape into pieces, "I never felt like one of the group."
"I know how you feel sometimes," Remus said, "With those two like they are, carrying on with their tricks, and pranks, and great plans to get us all killed ."
"But you liked it," Peter said, his face turning red, "Didn't you?"
Remus smiled, and then said, "Every minute of it."
Peter grew quiet, and then went back to wrapping Sirius's present.
"What about you?" Remus asked.
Peter shrugged, and then took the tape out of his mouth, and stuck it to the gift.
The night turned into day quickly, and Peter fell asleep on the floor after they had set out all of the gifts, dressed the table, etc. Remus had taken his spot on the couch, and had put in two hours of a good night's rest. And even if the sleep only lasted for a short while, the dream seemed to go on for an eternity . . .
He was laying in the Shrieking Shack, defenseless. The wolf was on the other side of the room, snarling. Clawing at the floor.
Breathing in and out.
Staring at him.
He was down. There was nothing else to do. It was over with. He was dead.
And the wolf turned into the man that he had seen in the woods years ago. The one that had bit him. He smiled, and cackled at him, "You are a monster."
And slowly, the man turned to Professor Klien. Then, finally to Professor June.
"I will not die," he shouted, the music box chiming behind him.
June stared into Remus's eyes, hurting. Yet . . . free . . .
"I will not die," he repeated.
"What?" Remus gasped from his spot on the floor. Where was James and Sirius and Peter? Where were they? What was this thing in front of him? Who was it? It couldn't be June! June had left years ago!
"I will not die," he said again, and Remus felt himself grow stronger. He sat, and stared at the man who had . . . yes . . . died!
"But you are dead!" he shouted back.
"I will not die!"
"Stop saying that!" Remus stood to his feet now, very angry with June, "You're dead! You died a long time ago!"
"I will not die!"
And all of a sudden, in front of his eyes, June shifted form.
"I will not die!"
In front of him, stood the figure of an older man. He wasn't old, he knew that. But he looked older. His graying hair mixed with his brown locks, and his robes were shabby. Remus knew this man. He knew him very well.
"I. Will. Not. Die," this man cried out to him, and Remus felt himself racing forward, towards himself.
And then he was falling.
"Wake up, everyone! It's morning!"
Peter's voice sounded from inside his head, and his eyes snapped open. His friend was standing over the display they had made that night, and Sirius was yawning from his cornered mattress. James exited his bedroom, mussing his hair. He stretched, and then saw the presents that Remus had wrapped added to their own pile that the other three had brought.
"Oh, Moony," he said, "You didn't have to get me anything. You shouldn't have."
"I know I shouldn't have," Remus smiled, and threw him his present, "And don't thank me until you've seen what it is."
James unwrapped it, and then gasped with surprise.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, "I didn't think they had this one still in print. Thank you!" Sirius snorted, and James looked to him quickly, and back at Remus, "I mean, it's great. Thanks," he said a little less enthusiastic.
"Thank you, Sirius," Peter squeaked from across the room. He brandished an album that was looking very Muggle-ish. James laughed, and then shook his head.
"You really need to get another place to live, mate," he said, and went for the next present.
"And it's a beautiful 1977 Christmas here in London today," the voice came over the "radio." The boys were trying to listen while they took the newly arrived food from the front door to the kitchen for preparing.
"A radio, hey?" Remus said as he took the delivery boxes out of the bags, "Very interesting. And it talks by itself?"
"No," Sirius said, "I'm not exactly how it works. I just know how to turn it on and off, and this is the only stupid voice I can get out of it. It's supposed to get more, but I have no idea how to work it."
James laughed, and opened one of the styrofoam boxes. Mashed potatoes.
"You can't burn a place down with delivery," Remus commented, and then set the turkey slices they had purchased on a plate.
They had four sacks' worth of food. That was sixteen boxes to empty, pile together, and throw in the trash bin. But soon the Christmas songs were playing happily on the radio, and they were all seated around the small table in his living room, eating to their hearts' desires.
"And so, then I said to her," Sirius said, gulping his wine that they had brought out of his "frigidaire," "What do you mean you're not going to go the Graduation Dance with me? And you know what she said?"
"What? That you were an arrogant git?" James laughed, eating his potatoes.
"Well, something like that," Sirius replied, and then sighed, "I've got no one to go to the Graduation Dance with. What a damn bloody world this is."
"Well, how about you ask Elise?" Remus asked, and cut into his turkey.
"Elise?" Sirius leaned back on his chair, "Oh, I don't think so. She's . . ."
"Fawning over you the entire time that you've known her," James finished, "Come on now, Padfoot. Now don't tell me that you're scared of a girl."
"I'm not scared, thanks," Sirius slammed back on all four chair's feet, "Fine. You don't think that I can ask her, I will. And it will be the greatest night of my life. I'll bet you anything on it."
"And what about you two?" James asked, "You two have anyone that you're looking into asking?"
"No," Remus said, "That's the night of a full moon. I've already checked."
"You're kidding," Sirius said, "Talk about bad timing."
"I was thinking maybe one of Lily's friends would like to go with me," Peter said meekly, pleading with James with his big eyes, "I mean, I . . . she has an awful lot of them . . . maybe one would . . . "
"I'll ask her," James said, "We can probably find someone."
"Wait," Sirius said, and leaned in to Remus, "You mean that we're not going to be there with you for your last transformation at Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, I guess not," Remus said glumly, and took a drink of his wine.
"Well, that just isn't fair!" Sirius exclaimed, and set his fork down with a clank, "We need to celebrate our seven years of marauding with one final hooray, don't we?"
"What are you implying, Padfoot?" James asked.
"That we ditch the dance, and hide out with Moony," he said, smiling, "I'm not giving up our last night . . . and, of course, your well being, Moony," he added, "To go joy dance with a bunch of giggly girls? Now come on, Prongs, what kind of friends would we be if we did such a thing?"
"Friends that don't want to go to the trouble of asking a certain giggly girl out," James smiled, and then Sirius shook his head.
"No, we would be selfish friends," he said, "We would be completely selfish friends. Letting poor little Moony walk down that long dark tunnel by himself, scratching and clawing himself to death . . ."
"All right, we know," Remus stopped him.
"So we should just skip the whole stupid Graduation Dance, and maraud one last time. Agreed, everyone?"
"Agreed!" Peter said with anticipation. But James was toying with his food.
"Sirius, I asked Lily to the dance," he said, "I can't go. I have to take her."
Sirius groaned, and Remus said, "It's all right, James. We understand. Don't we, Padfoot?"
Sirius felt a foot kick his leg under the table, and he muttered, "Yeah. Right. It's fine, Prongs. Don't worry about it."
They finished their meal, and then decided to get out of the house. It was cluttered with boxes, paper sacks, plates, presents, ribbons, bows . . . it was a pigsty.
So Sirius had grabbed his keys (not wanting to clean the mess up at the moment), and announced that they were going to Diagon Alley for some more fun.
"It's sort of a pity that that's the only real place we can go that's magical in this town," Remus said, "Unless you want to stand on Platform 9 ¾, or visit the Ministry of Magic."
Diagon Alley was just how they had left it a week ago. Crowded, the snow still magically falling. They made their way to the end of the street, then doubled back, looking at the stores for anything that would interest all of them. But they had looked at most of this last weekend, and all four boys seemed terribly bored.
Mr. Ollivander's store was coming into focus, and Sirius found himself staring at it in interest. He remembered what the old man had said to him years ago, about how he thought that the wand he had purchased couldn't have worked for him.
"Only someone of a brave and loyal heart could truthfully hold it in their hands. Unicorn hair is very pure in spirit. That is why I believed it wouldn't work for you, Mr. Black."
"Hey, guys," he said, running in front of them towards the shop, "I'll be back in a minute. Meet me at the Quidditch shop, all right?"
The three boys really didn't any other choice, but to nod and let him enter the store.
It was still musty and filled with dust that swirled in the air above Sirius's head. The boxes of wands stood in tall piles and touched the ceiling. One string of lights hung from the corners of the wall, and blinked different colors.
"Er . . . Mr. Ollivander?" he said uncertain to the vacant room.
He probably wasn't here. It was Christmas, wasn't it? What sort of mental case would be working full time by himself on Christmas?
But sure enough, Mr. Ollivander entered from a back room, untouched by age. He was exactly the way that he had been two years ago when Sirius had come with Remus.
"Ah, Mr. Black," Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, seeing Sirius standing in his store once again, "I knew it. I told you that that couldn't be the right wand for you. And now, seven years after you bought it, it hasn't done you justice, has it?"
"Why do you think that it wouldn't work for me?" Sirius asked. It was more of a demand or an order, and Mr. Ollivander looked very surprised.
"Well, I thought that it would be obvious," he said, and then headed for the back room.
"What? What would be obvious?" Sirius demanded of him, and the old man turned around to look at him increduously.
"I know every wand I've sold," Mr. Ollivander said, "And I know every person that I have sold them to. I see you, Mr. Black. And I wonder to myself, why would a unicorn hair . . . which is truly pure is spirit . . . choose to work for a boy that is being pulled two ways? Down two separate paths?"
"What?" Sirius remembered now what James had said about him being off of his rocker. He had to be. He wasn't being pulled anywhere. He led himself wherever he damn well pleased. . .
"Mr. Black," Mr. Ollivander continued, "Seven years ago, how did you think your life would turn out?"
Sirius blinked. What? What was he going on about?
"Well, I thought that it would be like my parents told me," he said, not knowing to trust him or not, "I'd be in Slytherin, I'd marry someone from Slytherin, have children, and they'd . . . "
"Go to Slytherin," Mr. Ollivander finished for him, and then nodded, "Curious."
"What's curious?"
Mr. Ollivader smiled, and then said, "And yet your future holds greater things than what your parents wanted for you. I see that you have made friends with the 'wrong sort,' and you are loyal to them, are you not?"
"Of course I am," Sirius said.
"Well, then you have answered your own question," Mr. Ollivander said, "Two paths. Two separate lives. We all have fates, Mr. Black. It is up to us to choose if we wish to acknowledge that fate and accept the outcome, or veer in a different direction and hope for the best. You are torn between these two. I can see it in your eyes, Mr. Black."
Sirius blinked, and then stared at him. Who was this man? How did he know everything about him? How did he understand this?
"Now, if you don't mind asking, what did you come in here for?" Mr. Ollivander continued like nothing had happened, "If you weren't looking for a new wand . . . "
"I better get going," Sirius said quickly, and let himself out of the door.
That night, the four boys sat on the worn couch, watching a Christmas T.V. special on one of the local channels. James thought it was very funny how the people in the screen wouldn't react to what he was saying to them, and other nonmagical things about this device.
Sirius had been very quiet since he had left Ollivanders. Remus had tried to get him to talk about it, but there had been no such luck. He had sat next to him, just in case he wanted to talk about it in the middle of the movie, but he had been stubborn and had kept silent through the entire film, unless James made a comment that made him laugh.
It was the closest thing to a good memory that they would have for a long time. Years from now, the four of them would look back on that early morning, when they were all smiling and eating together, and feel the warmth of the snowy day again. They were not children anymore, all of them realized that now.
And it was that night that the world fell apart, from right underneath their feet. And nothing would ever be the same. All of their petty little arguments about who would win the Quidditch Cup, every jealous thought that Sirius had had about Lily, every worry of James would look miniscule to what they were about to encounter.