Moony
My life has been full of regrets. I have become desensitized to them—I regret that I was foolish enough to get the bite, I regret that I never told my friends when they were out of line… But I know all of those things are pointless longings, and so I let them go. But there are a few things I can never forget, for they continue to eat me alive. Why didn't I see the signs? Why didn't I warn them?
To be fair to myself, I must keep the mantra in my mind that it wasn't my fault, there was nothing I could do, I couldn't have been expected to know. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, they say; how could I have known that my friends thought I was trying to kill them? Even if I had known, would I have been able to convince them otherwise? Would I have been able to save their lives?
Maybe it was all meant to be; it made Harry a stronger person. That was what I told myself when I knew him—some part of me knew I was lying to keep my distance, to keep myself from admitting that I still cared for him, that I still saw the baby I knew years ago. When I had to leave him, I had to drop the lies. I couldn't keep pretending that he was just another student to me any more than Sirius was just a murderer on the run. My connections ran too deep. The last day I was at Hogwarts, when I looked into his face for what I thought might be the last time, the realization I had been fighting against struck me. He never deserved that suffering. None of us did. Yet there was nothing any of us could do about it. I suppose Harry Potter taught me that sometimes life is hopeless.
Even still, I think that maybe it didn't have to be hopeless when all of this started. I suppose I've always been a bit idealistic, though I developed a strong pessimistic streak. The point is that I've always thought I should have noticed that I was being cut out of the loop. Being so desperate to be included in everything, to be appreciated and not labeled a monster, I should have seen it.
They didn't cut me out on a large scale, because of course they didn't want me to realize that they suspected anything—you don't tell spies that you think they're spies. You act natural, and hope they don't notice that you've stopped confiding in them. So I came to Harry's first birthday party, and we continued to spend the full moons together, but spending time together casually stopped altogether. I credited it to the fact that they were all busy dealing with the war; I never heard about that last threat, the one that convinced them either Peter or I was the spy. Of course it bothered me that distance was growing between us, but I was confident that when everything was said and done, when the war had ended with our victory, we'd be Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs again.
I remember the day they told me of the plan. Their faces were grave, Lily's and James' and Sirius'. I try to sum up the memory of how Peter looked, but I just can't do it. All my memories of him now are blurred and distorted, tainted by his betrayal.
James spoke first.
"Remus… Peter… We have some very important news."
He paused, looking at me for a reaction. At the time, I thought he was merely curious; now I suspect he was afraid. I said nothing, having learned long before that "important news" could be anything.
"We're going into hiding," he said heavily. "We have no choice. Voldemort is after us. He's after… Harry."
I remember closing my eyes as the dull thoughts pounded through my brain, personal rage dulled by overuse. How could Voldemort do something like this? What gave him the right to force a beautiful family like this to overturn their lives? I remember swearing quietly, because I could think of no other way to react. I wonder now what they thought I was angry over.
"Dumbledore has recommended that we use the Fidelius Charm," James continued, in the monotone voice of someone resigned to something horrible that they are dealing with by being detached. We had all become so used to extremes in our emotions that we could no longer really feel them, and this was a perfect example. "We will conceal our location within our Secret Keeper, so for a few days, you won't know where we are. But when things get settled, then everything will be back to normal."
"Except that you'll be safe," Peter added.
And the comment filled me with fury and I leaped from my chair and struck Peter hard across the face and I screamed, "No, James, he's the spy, it's him, it's Peter, the worthless traitor!" and then Peter was arrested and I was forgiven and Lily and James were never murdered and Sirius was never locked away and I was never alone…
At least, this is how I remember it when I think of what I should have done. The reality was markedly different.
"Yes," I said. "You'll be safe."
Again, I agonize in wondering what they thought I meant by that.
"Our Secret Keeper," said James, "is Sirius."
They lied to me. Right to my face, they lied, because they thought it would keep them safe. They lied to me, and Peter lied to us all. Lies are why they are not here. At least I can say that I never lied.