Chapter Text
October 31, 1981
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James and Lily will die today. James will leave his wand on the couch, thinking Sirius is outside preparing a Halloween surprise. Peter will cast a Killing Curse on his childhood best friend. Lily will die on her knees, in front of Harry’s crib.
Harry will be left alone. Sirius will go to Azkaban. Peter will slip away.
Tomorrow morning, Mary will raise her wand and obliviate the wizarding world from her mind. The sun will stream through her curtains, and she will find peace.
Remus Lupin will feel, deep in his gut, that something is wrong.
November 3rd, 1981
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Remus rushes into the empty apartment.
“Sirius!” he calls, but there’s no answer. His eyes linger on the spinning record player, stuck endlessly replaying the silence of a T. Rex album's end. A cup of tea sits forgotten on the table.
Sirius should be here, waiting. Remus has been gone for over two weeks—two weeks with Grayback’s pack. He shudders at the memory of those days, the gnawing loneliness, wishing he could return to Sirius and make everything right.
A few copies of The Daily Prophet sit by the empty window. Remus picks them up, flips through the pages. Sirius must not have heard Remus was on his way back.
Then his stomach drops.
"The Boy Who Lived" is the headline. Beneath it, a mugshot of Sirius Black. He skims the article.
Lily... Oh god, not Lily.
James. If Lily’s gone, then James would have followed—first or right after. James couldn’t survive without Lily.
Oh, Sirius. It’s impossible. Oh, love, what did you do?
Remus gathers himself. He’s been trained to keep calm, and years of living with his father have finally made it second nature. He apparates. Dumbledore doesn’t seem surprised when Remus rips through the wards into his office.
“Why the hell didn’t you pull me out of that forest, and where the hell is Harry?” Remus demands, keeping his voice calm but steady.
“Sit down, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore says.
Remus stands rooted to the spot. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Harry is safe. With Petunia, Lily’s sister,” Dumbledore rises to stand eye-to-eye with Remus. “I didn’t pull you from the forest because there was nothing to be done. The Order is already planning the funeral services for your friends.”
Remus chokes. Lily would never want Harry with Petunia. He chooses not to think about the funeral plans. Not yet.
“I need to see him. Harry. Petunia will make no home for him. It’s not what Lily and James would have wanted. Why didn’t you get me? I’m the only one Harry knows, the only one who still…” He stops himself.
“Mr. Lupin, you’re not named in any legal relevance to Harry. I cannot locate Lily and James’s will, so Harry has been sent to his closest living relative. This is not up for discussion.” Remus debates killing him. Not just for taking Harry, but because Dumbledore trusted Sirius with Lily and James’s safety. Oh, Sirius. How could you? How could you betray us like this? We were all you had.
January 20th, 1983
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Remus wakes with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. His apartment is a mess. He lies on the couch, glaring at the sun slicing through the gaps in the curtains. The noise of the world outside is muted, like it belongs to someone else.
Since that day, Remus hasn’t done much. At first, he was so furious that he threw anything even remotely connected to Sirius into their room. Then, that room became his—and the apartment felt emptier than ever. Remus didn’t open the door to the bedroom, he slept on the couch.
The next month, he threw himself into research, hoping to find some way to gain custody of Harry. He failed.
He started drinking. Drinking until the room spun around him, until the pain in his chest started to dull. When lying there, half-conscious, his mind wandered to his old friends: James, Lily, Peter, and Sirius. He couldn’t understand how Sirius had done it. How had he become a traitor? How had Remus not seen it sooner?
Time passed. He used Sirius’s bank account. That's the least Sirius could do. Remus knew eventually he’d have to either return to the wizarding world or the Muggle one. The problem was, no one was waiting for him on either side. Mary had written him a letter before obliviating herself. She’d asked him not to find her. Marlene, Lily, James, and Peter were all gone. Sirius was worse off. The world had been cruel enough to spare Remus.
On the full moons, he would apparate to remote patches of different forests. He embraced the pain of the transformation, the loneliness of it. The wolf missed his friends—the stag, the rat—and oh, how he missed the big black dog.
The days, months, and years all blended together.
Remus often apparated to Petunia's house. Late at night. Drunk. He never went inside. He never saw Harry. He knew Dumbledore warded the house against him, the wolf could smell it.