I deviated a bit from the standard format of the story here. I liked the end so much that I couldn't put anything after it, so...I hope you won't mind.
We are in the last quarter of the moon. This part of the story does not take part in that phase, but the events I will tell mirror the character of the Last Quarter. A new moon is coming soon, but before we can experience its rebirth, we must feel pain and grief...we must come to face the events that have been so long in building...
Tonight, Remus and Sirius come face to face with the beginning of the end.
Sirius was depressed - and, even worse, he was bored. The two things were interconnected, but, of the pair, he personally thought boredom was the worst thing that could ever happen to him, because if he wasn't bored, he would be to busy to bother with depression. It was a new experience to him, boredom - yet another one of the many side effects of Azkaban.
The house was foul. Sirius had thought of many other, more creative adjectives to describe it, but none of them were nearly as accurate. The dirt, the dark objects lurking in the corners, his mother's awful portrait, the skeleton of a House-Elf which had reappeared in the attic, to his deep disappointment - and he was completely and utterly trapped in this bleak hole.
Even Remus' presence didn't help much, when Sirius was in his blackest mood. Remus, for all his lycanthropy, could at least go outside without being sent to Azkaban, as long as it wasn't a full moon. But he, Sirius, was stuck in the pits of his own personal hell. At times he thought Buckbeak was the only one who could really understand what it was like. Damn, if only the hippogriff could talk - they could moan about being here, not allowed to go out, break out the firewhisky, get piss roaring drunk, pass out on the floor and wake up the next morning to do it all over again.
When did his sense of humor get so black? Sirius rolled his eyes at the pun and went back to wrapping up Buckbeak's broken leg. He didn't know how the hippogriff had gotten injured, and he didn't really care. At least it gave him something to do. It was a good thing Buckbeak was here at all - he hated to think of how dead boring everything without him.
This was probably the worst year of his life. Well, not worse than Azkaban, he amended, but at least there he'd had drive. Something to hope for. Something to live for. But even his thirst for revenge, while not exactly quenched, had been pushed aside and buried under a sea of regrets, nostalgia, gloominess and old resentment. It had gone stale and cold, just like the rest of his life.
If only he could talk to Harry, things might be different. But since their conversation about James, there had been nothing - no letters in code, no illegal calls through the fire, nothing. Sirius had peppered Dumbledore every time he saw him for news about his godson - but now even Dumbledore had no news about Harry. Not that it had done much good when he had asked - Dumbledore just sighed, looked tired, and said something along the lines of "he's as well as can be expected," and left it at that.
Harry could have used the two-way mirror, but he was being stubborn about it for some reason, and Sirius was at a loss about what to do next, except sit around in dark rooms and brood. There wasn't much else to do. And that was depressing. Not to mention boring.
Which brought him right back around to his original point. He traveled around in circles like this a lot lately, and he wasn't getting anywhere new. Sirius let out a long, world-weary sigh, and Buckbeak looked at him through one bright, knowing eye, although Sirius was sure he could detect a hint of exasperation in it. Dammit. If only Remus or James was here to tell him to shake himself out of it and go blow something up for God's sake, because angst just didn't suit him.
But Remus was on mysterious Order business - AGAIN - and the thought of James just brought about more brooding, so Sirius tried to ignored that train of thought. Only problem was, he didn't know what train of thought he should be following, so he was about to say to hell with it and brood as much as he wanted to, when Snape's voice interrupted him.
Wait a minute. Snape?
"Black? Black! Are you there?"
Sirius jumped and looked around wildly before he realized that the voice was coming from his pocket. "Stupid," he muttered, and pulled out a hand mirror. When Dumbledore had been looking for ways that the Order could contact each other, Sirius had offered up the spell he and James had used - and a few modifications made it possible to include any number of mirrors. A few more (mostly derived from those on a certain map) allowed for them to see through Polyjuice Potions and Invisibility Cloaks, and if an Order member wished to stay hidden, he or she could change the way the mirror told him that someone was calling.
Since Sirius wasn't lurking around in corners much, he just heard the person's voice when they called. "Snape! What's going on?"
"Where are you?"
"Grimmauld Place," said Sirius in confusion, "Where else would I be?"
Snape's mouth set in a thin line. "Your godson," he spat, "Was caught in Umbridge's office. Apparently he was trying to contact 'persons unknown' in her fireplace. He seems to think you have been taken captive by the Dark Lord."
Sirius jumped up. "What? What gave him that idea?"
"I have no idea. He's probably been paying attention to those visions again," Snape said scornfully.
"Weren't you supposed to teach him Occlumency? So he could stop having them?"
"Well, clearly it didn't work."
"Well, if you had kept at it instead of throwing him out of your office--"
"Black! That is beside the point, and we are wasting time! If he runs off on some fool rescue mission--"
"Well, since you're there, why don't you see to it that he doesn't?" Sirius replied nastily.
Snape rolled his eyes. "If you would just stop talking, I will. Alert the rest of the Order. Gather as many people as you can. We should be prepared." With that, the conversation was cut short abruptly.
Sirius stared at for a minute, then clattered downstairs to begin rounding up the other members of the Order. He got Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Remus together before Snape contacted him again.
"Black!"
"Snape! What's going on?"
"Potter and Granger led Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest. The two Weasleys, Longbottom, and the Lovegood girl escaped her office and followed them. None of them have returned yet."
Sirius blew out a breath. "Great. Just great."
Remus came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "He probably still thinks you're Voldemort's captive."
"I wonder what made you think that," said Snape dryly. "I'm going to search the Forest for him. Someone should go to the Ministry to look for him. Did you round up the rest of the Order? Besides Lupin?"
"Yes," retorted Sirius, and flashed the mirror around so he could see everyone in the room.
"We should all go," grunted Moody, "If Potter has run into Voldemort at the Ministry, he'll need all the help he can get."
"Right," said Sirius grimly.
"Not you," Snape snapped.
"What? If you think I'm going to stay behind again while everyone else runs off to--"
"Someone should stay and tell Dumbledore what's going on!" Snape retorted, "He'll be coming any minute, you can at least wait to dash off and save Potter's neck!"
Sirius wrenched his mouth open to reply, but Snape cut him off. "We're wasting time, Black," he said impatiently. "You stay there and alert Dumbledore. I'm going to search the Forest. Goodbye."
"Sirius..." began Remus, seeing the look on his face.
"I am not staying here while the rest of you go off! Not again! My godson is in DANGER! I'm going to protect him, dammit."
"And who will tell Dumbledore what's going on?" Remus said calmly.
Sirius cast his eyes desperately around the room, and they landed on..."Kreacher. Stay here, and when Dumbledore comes, tell him we've gone to the Department of Mysteries after Harry."
"Sirius..." Remus began again.
"No. I'm going. Come on." Sirius pulled out his wand and Apparated, and the rest followed suit. There wasn't anything else they could do.
For a man cooped up for so long, the battle was exhilarating. Remus, even as he dodged curses and shot back hexes of his own, could see it in his best friend's eyes. A year's worth of boredom melted away and was replaced by a fire that hadn't been there for a long time. He himself was concentrating fiercely on fighting for his life - he'd never enjoyed this sort of work, but when thrown into it, he could hold his own.
He heard Sirius shout "Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" and swore. Harry was in the middle of all this, and he had the prophecy--Remus shot one last, furious hex at his opponent, who fell over, and whirled around to see that Malfoy had pinned Harry down and was threatening him. He was momentarily impressed when Harry threw the prophecy at Neville and blasted Malfoy away into the dais. One glance at the dais told him that Sirius was dueling with Bellatrix - but he had no time to think about that, as Malfoy was about to hex Neville and Harry and--
"Harry, round up the others and GO!" He shouted, jumping between them. He was duelling furiously with the man when he heard Neville's shout and Dumbledore entered the room, and the Death Eaters were dealt with effortlessly.
Except one. Remus' eyes went instantly to the dais where Sirius and Bellatrix were fighting. He made to draw his wand, made to run up and help, but then he froze. Sirius had laughed. How long had it been since he'd laughed? "Come on, you can do better than that!" Remus heard him yell.
The words jolted him awake, but before he could run to Sirius, he saw a jet of light hit his chest, saw the look of surprise on his face, saw him fall over the edge and behind the veil...
Remus felt his throat constrict, but then he heard another shout.
"SIRIUS!" Harry was yelling. "SIRIUS!"
Lupin saw him sprinting towards the veil and sprang into action. He pulled the boy away, said something to him, he didn't know what, tried to tell him that Sirius wasn't coming back, even though he could hardly believe it himself. It hurt to talk. But he had to keep doing it, or...he dragged Harry away, restraining the boy, barely looking where he was going...they found Neville...he reversed the hex on Neville's legs...why did he keep talking? It hurt to talk...
He had to find his voice. Had to keep going. Time for grief later. "Let's--let's find the others," he said painfully, turning away from the archway. "Where are they all, Neville?"
Neville took them back to the other students, but his answer was interrupted. Harry ripped free from his grip, ran towards the noise, yelling that he would kill her--
Bloody hell. Harry was gone. So is Sirius. No! He wouldn't think about that now, he had to do something, had to get everyone else out of here...he turned to the children. "We have to get you back to Hogwarts," he said tightly.
"But--" began Ginny.
"No buts," Remus snapped. "We're going now. I won't have anyone else dying if I can help it." He took a bit of rubble and pointed his wand at it. "Portus," he said, not caring that it was unauthorized. "Ginny, take Hermione's hand. Luna, take Ron's. Good." He, along with Neville, Ginny and Luna, each put a finger to the Portkey, and with the familiar jerk in their navels, they were in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.
Remus gave Madam Pomfrey a short explanation, then Floo'ed back to the Ministry.
He was just in time to see Voldemort for a split second before he grabbed Bellatrix and vanished. He saw Fudge gibber in front of Dumbledore, saw that Harry was all right, saw him disappear again...he heard Dumbledore tell him to take Tonks to St. Mungo's and then return to Grimmauld Place...he did both of these things mechanically, yet again putting aside his grief...
And found himself back in the gloom of the ancient house.
Remus sighed and pulled out a chair in the kitchen. What was he supposed to do until Dumbledore came? Make a pot of tea? He snorted. Somehow, he didn't think so. Well, he could sit here...unmoving...something Sirius did a lot lately, but...
Sirius.
Dammit.
That was all it took. Remus shoved himself and the chair backwards and jumped out of it. "What the hell were you thinking? DAMN it, Sirius!"
His shout awoke shrieking from the hallway, but Remus' ears were filling with rage and he barely heard it. Sirius hated this house. Hated the blackness, hated his parents, hated the shrieking...
The shrieking. His mother. Sirius had hated her. She'd been loud. Bigoted. Remus opened the door to the kitchen and stalked into the hallway.
"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BEFOULING THE HOUSE OF--"
Remus pointed his wand at her, shaking with rage and frustration. "Shut up."
"HALF-BREEDS AND MUTANTS AND BLOOD-TRAITORS, SHAME OF MY FLESH--"
"He's dead," Remus said flatly.
"LIARS AND DIRT AND SCUM--"
"He was your son! And he's DEAD!" Remus felt something powerful shoot out of the end of his wand, unintentional magic so powerful that it blasted the portrait right off the wall. It shocked Mrs. Black so much that she stopped shrieking, but only for a moment.
The shrieking. It wouldn't stop.
Sirius had hated the shrieking. He had hated his mother.
"Incendio."
The portrait went up in flames. Remus watched it until the shrieking stopped and there were only ashes left. Then he doused the fire with some water from his wand.
Ashes...
That was all that was left.
All that was left of Sirius' mother. All that was left of Godric's Hollow. All that was left of James and Lily. All that was left of the street Peter Pettigrew had blown to bits.
All that was left of his life.
Sirius would be disgusted with his melodrama, Remus thought bitterly. But Sirius wasn't here.
The other portraits had woken up and were yelling now. Remus looked at them. "You're shrieking. She used to shriek. Sirius hated the shrieking..." he raised his wand.
The yelling stopped abruptly as all the portraits realized what he was going to do, so he lowered his wand and moved silently out of the room.
He didn't plan on going there, but he found himself in the drawing room next. On one wall hung an old, faded tapestry...Remus' eyes gravitated to it. Sirius had hated that tapestry. Sirius wasn't even on it. He was just a hole, burned and charred...
Ashes...
Remus pointed his wand at it. Permanent Sticking Charm or no, it would burn too...hate and grief and anger poured out of him and the tapestry burned until there was nothing left.
Except ashes.
Remus moved out of the room and upstairs. He found the room with Phineas Nigellus' portrait in it. Phineas was there. He started at the sight of Remus' face. "Where is my great-great-grandson?" he demanded.
"Dead," Remus replied numbly.
"So Dumbledore and Potter were right?"
"He fell."
"What?"
"Behind the veil."
Phineas stared at him, then shook himself and left the frame. Remus heard his voice echo all over the house from the other portraits, calling Sirius' name...
He couldn't bear to hear it. He turned and walked out of the room.
His feet led him to Sirius' mother's room, where Buckbeak was lodged. At the sight of Remus, Buckbeak looked up in confusion. Remus sighed. How many more people was he going to have to break this to? How many more people had lost someone they loved today and didn't know it yet?
"Buckbeak," he said softly, meeting the hippogriff's eyes and bowing. Buckbeak bowed back, and Remus relaxed. "Sirius..." he stopped and cleared his choked throat. It didn't help. "Sirius is dead," he managed.
Remus could have sworn he saw a look of comprehension in the great beast's eyes. He lowered his head and Remus sighed. "I'm sorry."
He meant to leave, but found he didn't much want to. Suddenly he understood why Sirius liked to stay up here - he didn't have to deal with other people, he could be alone with his thoughts - yet he wasn't truly alone, and there was some strange comfort in staying with the other creature. Remus sighed and sat down in front of the door. Man and beast were quiet for a long moment, each lost in their own grief...
It seemed like ages before Remus finally stood up and quietly left the room. Once in the hall, he stood there unmoving, listening. The house had gone quiet. Phineas was no longer calling for Sirius. None of the portraits were shrieking. The house was dead, alone, black...
Ashes...
Remus shook his head. He couldn't keep thinking these dark thoughts...that was what had led Sirius away...he went back downstairs and let himself out of the house, out into the breaking light...
It was dawn. The stars were fading and the sun was coming up, but he could still see the moon in the sky. It was almost a new moon...good. He didn't want to transform any time soon. He couldn't deal with the grief so soon.
Moonlight.
Starlight.
Dog star.
Sirius!
Remus' hand flew to the amulet hanging around his neck. Dammit all! Sirius' must have fallen, he thought, fallen behind the veil with him...he turned and raced back into the house. If there was a chance...any inkling of a chance...he might've taken it off before he left...please...
A quick ransack of the house yielded nothing. Remus sank into a chair in the kitchen and buried his face in his hands. It was gone. Just like Sirius.
Ashes...
There was a pop, and Remus looked up and found his surprised eyes locked with Dumbledore's tired ones. "Dumbledore..." he said weakly, "You should go to sleep."
"So should you," replied Dumbledore quietly.
"How is Harry?"
Dumbledore sighed and sat down across from him. "He understands now," he said. It wasn't a real explanation, but it was enough.
"I see. And...Fudge?"
Dumbledore smiled tiredly. "He understands as well."
Remus sighed heavily and didn't reply.
"Remus," said Dumbledore gently.
He didn't look up. He didn't want to face the pity he knew he would find in the old man's eyes.
"I found something in the rubble," Dumbledore was saying.
That made Remus look up. Hope flooded his eyes. "What?" he said carefully, not wanting to betray too much.
Dumbledore held out a long silver chain and Remus took it, feeling as if he was in a daze. There was Sirius' amulet, unharmed. "But how..." he breathed.
"I found it near the archway. It must have fallen off as he fell," Dumbledore said. He looked at Remus steadily. "Do you want to tell me what it is?"
Remus swallowed. "Someday," he replied hoarsely, "Not yet."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Very well. There are still a few matters to attend to."
"Yes?" said Remus.
"For instance, where is Kreacher?"
"I don't know," he said, "I haven't seen him since I came back." He paused. "It's a good thing, too," he said finally.
Dumbledore looked at him through blue eyes that betrayed nothing.
"I would have killed him," Remus muttered, not meeting that penetrating blue stare.
Dumbledore didn't say anything - he offered no judgment and no sympathy or understanding. But when Remus finally looked up, too afraid to meet those eyes, but too afraid not to, he was shocked - there was no hardness or disgust in his eyes, but tears. Tears rolled down Dumbledore's face onto the table unchecked.
"I'm sorry," Remus whispered hoarsely.
"I am, as well," Dumbledore said through his tears. His voice did not waver, but it was heavy with sadness and grief.
Remus looked down at the table, and his throat constricted, but no tears came to his eyes. He felt dry...felt like he was in a dream, half-awake and half-asleep. "We should find Kreacher," he said quietly. Then a sigh came out of him, so heavy that it felt like it had been torn from him. "I'm so tired..." he whispered, and there was something in his voice that indicated that it wasn't just from lack of sleep.
"Sleep," said Dumbledore, "I'll take care of Kreacher."
"Dumbledore," Remus protested, "You've been up all night...working so hard...the least I can do..."
Dumbledore shook his head. "You need sleep. You've lost a friend tonight."
"No," said Remus softly, and at Dumbledore's questioning look, he said, more loudly this time, "No, Dumbledore...I haven't lost a friend."
He looked into blue, confused eyes and raised, bushy eyebrows, and said, even more softly than before, "I've lost a brother."
There was a long silence. Unspoken grief was thick in the air "Sleep," said Dumbledore finally, "I will manage."
Remus hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly. And he turned and left the room.
It was a long time before things slowed down enough for Remus to dwell on his grief again. The aftermath of the attack at the Ministry was not pretty, and all of the Order members were called upon to do whatever they could to help. It was Remus' idea to meet Harry at King's Cross, although seeing him again was a bit of a shock - the pale, melancholy look on Harry's face was an almost exact mirror of the expression on Remus' own face.
When he returned to Grimmauld Place, he dug out the amulet Dumbledore had found in the Ministry building, and also slipped his own amulet from around his neck. He'd been avoiding it, until now, but he could avoid it no longer. Today, he had seen Harry face those Muggles and try to pretend to move on...today, he would face the fears he had been avoiding and do the same.
It was time.
Remus took a deep breath and pointed his wand at his own amulet. "Cave Canes."
He wasn't expecting anything. Anything at all. He saw the veil, floating in a wind that didn't blow. He saw the stone archway, cold and unyielding. He was about to cancel the spell when the picture shifted. The veil came closer and closer, in a sweeping view that made Remus hold his breath until...the image passed beyond it.
Behind the veil was not stone, but the starlight that had been in the amulet before. Remus started to sigh with disappointment, but before he was finished he saw something that gasp. Under the starlight, under the black heavens...he could see...he could hardly believe it...the figure of a dog. And it was running.
It was running, under a big black sky...Remus could feel the wet grass beneath his feet and see the stars above his head...and he felt an overwhelming rush of the sweetest feeling in the world: freedom. Sirius was free. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.
Remus watched it run for a moment, then jumped in surprise. Next to the dog, he could see the figure of a stag, running along with him and dancing playfully about it. Remus smiled. That was all he needed.
The image faded away, and he let out a sigh. Somehow he knew the amulet wouldn't show anything again. He looked at it for a moment, thinking, then finally slipped it around his neck again. He wouldn't hide his grief away and try to forget it this time. He'd bear with it, and someday the amulet wouldn't hurt to look at anymore.
He was at a loss about what to do with the one that belonged to Sirius. He should find someone to give it to, he thought...Sirius shouldn't be forgotten. But it wasn't the same, and it never would be...so he put it back in the carved box, thinking he'd leave it to Harry when...when his time came.
Remus sighed again, shut the lid of the box, and went down the dark stairs of Grimmauld Place. It was so quiet now...they were searching for Sirius' will, and until it was found, the house had been vacated, just in case. Remus was to leave tomorrow, but until then he was alone in the darkness and silence of the house. Well, he was nearly alone - Kreacher had been found wailing over the ashes of his Mistress' portrait, but his screams had fallen into the depths of a silence so thick that they went nearly unnoticed.
Eventually, however, Remus got tired of the tantrums, and had used a few carefully worded sentences to send Kreacher into a sulking fit, locked in his miserable little room. Remus had then cast a Silencing Charm on the room, and the house-elf had not emerged since. So the silence was complete, and so was the loneliness.
But it had been quiet even before the house had been abandoned as a headquarters. The comings and goings of the Order had seemed like shadows, passing through a world of deeper, darker shadows. None of them could stay long in the shadows, but they couldn't linger for even a short time without being touched by them.
Ashes...
No. Not tonight. Sirius was happy. Remus had to hold on to that thought. Sirius was free. That had been his greatest wish, and, in death, he had it. He was free.
Remus almost envied him. He was still here, trapped in this cage of a house and the circumstances that chained him up once a month. He sighed. At least he could go in and out of it, he thought ruefully, and opened the door.
As he stepped out into the night, his eyes went immediately to the sky. It was covered with clouds, however, and he couldn't see the moon or the stars - but he knew what the clouds hid. The moon had begun to grow, and in a week or two he would be a werewolf again...but for now, he was out here in the thick, humid air, that held the promise of rain, as his sensitive nose could tell all too well.
The promise was fulfilled all too soon. The first drops of rain splattered on the sidewalk, one at a time, slowly, a warning to go inside now or get drenched...
But Remus didn't move. He just stood, head tilted towards the sky, letting the rain fall onto his face as it began to come down harder and harder, until he was standing in a torrent, with raindrops streaming down his face and hair and into his eyes and down his clothes...
It fell on the sidewalk and Remus watched it wash away the grime, leaving a slick, shiny surface.
Ashes...
Death...
Washing away...
And then, at long last, Remus felt tears come to his eyes. They streamed down his face and mixed with the rain, hot against the cold of his rain and the paleness of his skin. He made no move to wipe them away, he just tilted his head to the sky and let the rain run down his face and wash away the grime and mix with the tears and wash away the sadness, wash away the pain, wash away the ashes.
There, in the darkness of the night and under the shadow of Grimmauld Place and the life he was caged into, Remus cried.
And slowly, he began to feel alive again.
Freedom.