THE LAST MARAUDER
[DISCLAIMER]: Some lines of this chapter are taken DIRECTLY from JK Rowling's Deathly Hallows (Chapter 11- the Bribe) These quotes will be indicated and sourced with a page number.
His once bright brown eyes were now dulled a greyish brown. It was as if even the chocolate kept between the pockets of his lint dotted sweaters could not warm his now melancholy stare. Remus's bright haired wife, Tonks, was ecstatically expecting a child. The news delighted him at first, but as time continued, it brought forth nothing but dread. How could he be so foolish? So selfish? Taking on another lover after Freya had been naive enough, but bringing forth a child with such an ominous other side was a burden he feared he could not take.
Remus Lupin had carried much sadness in his lifetime. From taking on his monstrous curse, living through two rises of Voldemort, and becoming accustomed to losing those he loved. He sometimes wondered if his life was cursed in more ways than that of being a werewolf. He even wondered if his presence in others' lives was a curse. Remus had even watched his boggart change form. It once took upon the form of his lifeless friends' bodies, torn apart by his own clawed hands. Now, he discovered, a boggart would simply choose the form of his curse- a moon. The form shifting creature no longer needed to boast to him his lifeless friends, as that fear had already come true. Freya, Sirius, James, Lily, Marlene, and Mary were all dead. And Peter, who had betrayed them, was as good as dead to Remus.
Albus Dumbledore's plan to cover up Freya Bradberry's gruesome death by blaming it on Fenrir Greyback may have convinced the Ministry, but not Remus. Though unintentional and entirely ruled by his curse, Remus faced the unbearable truth. He had brought Freya's untimely fate.
Remus stalked down the Muggle street, his aging face cast low. A dark cloak covered most of his body and trailed down to his shoes. His right hand held firmly to a case of Butterbeer, and sticking out from the right pocket of his cloak was today's copy of the Daily Prophet. The cover boasted a picture of Harry Potter, who was wanted for questioning of Albus Dumbledore's murder.
Remus cast numerous glances behind his back as he continued down the cobbled pavement. It was late. Nobody, wizard or Muggle, was within sight. He used his free hand to slip his wand from his cloak pocket. Lifeless brown eyes gently closed in concentration, and he apparated carefully two blocks down onto the top step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
The presence of two cloaked Death Eaters directly across the street did not take Remus even slightly by surprise. Luckily, he had apparated so closely to the house, he was not within their eyes' reach. Remus's wand waved swiftly in front of the door, and it opened with an a obnoxiously loud click. Almost immediately upon shutting the door, Moody's voice echoed across the house, "Severus Snape?" A dust covered figure rose from the other side of the house, but before it even neared, Remus calmly replied, "It was not I who killed you, Albus." The jinx broke into a loud eruption.
From around the corner stepped Harry Potter with furrowed eyebrows, "Don't move." Ron and Hermione followed down the stairs towards Remus's unrecognizable figure. Three wands pointed directly at their former professor.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"
Ron and Hermione's wands lowered instantly. As a former Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and a close friend to the Potters, Remus was inwardly proud of how Harry stayed his guard.
"Show yourself!" Harry demanded with his wand still pointed firmly.
Remus again noted how proud James would have been at this demand, and stepped cautiously into the lamp's warm light. The trio noticed his tired eyes. His figure had slimmed noticeably, despite the layers of sweaters and the dark cloak that covered him. Remus always looked slightly frazzled due to the nature of being a werewolf, but today he looked even wearier.
YOU ARE READING
stain ☾ remus lupinFanfiction
the stains that blotched their shirts were different; his from spilled coffee and hers from accidental cigarette burns. however, the stains on their bodies matched so beautifully. the red hickeys ethereally nested on her collarbones blending with th...