Note : Again, the truths revealed might not be truths at all and appearances may be deceiving... (I want my plot twists to be surprising, but sometimes I overdo it and things may seem unlikely at first - just like the letter!) And please, don't be so cryptic in your reviews! What is 'pfc' or 'posting 4 chapter' supposed to mean?
Chapter Nine : A View to a Death
He woke to the soothing sound of early birds and to the pure light of a summer morning. He was wrapped in layers of light and white : white sheets, white walls, white ceiling, white light filtering through clean windows.
A faint sense of disorientation stole itself into his mind while he was still half-asleep. White ceilings .. summer .. where were the cold noises of echoing feet, where were the dim street sounds? He could almost bodily remember them, his heart tight and shivering at the memory.
He pictured himself getting up before the nurse came to wake him, and saw himself standing by the windows. He watched out, and saw a stained brick wall, dirtied by smoke and beyond that a roof, and a dreary grey ceiling. The window pane was blurry and cold. He touched it and as he looked at his slender fingers on the glass, the disorientation came back to him. It rushed over him like a wave and tore him away from the cold and the light.
With a start, Harry opened his eyes and blinked. The white ceiling was there. The white sheets were cool against his neck. The window was gently bathed in morning light. But it wasn’t the same window as before. He was at Hogwarts and this was the hospital wing. Behind the glass shimmered the fresh green of the dewy Hogwarts grounds and beyond that the sun was rising above the Forbidden Forest. Real warmth spread through his body and he felt rested and fresh.
“Good morning,” said Madam Pomfrey close by his side and placed a tablet with a mug of steaming tea and sweet smelling toast on the bedside table.
“Good morning, Madam,” Harry yawned and wanted to get up, but she clucked her tongue and shook her head.
“No, no, no. You’re not leaving this bed until I tell you to, Mr Potter.” But other than her stern voice, her face was round and kind with a caring smile. Harry sank back into the cushions and thought by himself that this was how he imagined a grandmother to be like : warm and soft and caring, but with a stern edge.
While Harry ate breakfast, he observed the empty hospital wing. “Why am I here?” he asked between two bits of toast.
“No doubt because of some kind of folly, Mr Potter. The headmaster himself brought you here last night, you had a right fever back then.” She checked his forehead but looked pleased. “Nothing I couldn’t cure, thank Merlin.”
“May I get up now, Madam?” Harry asked when he had finished breakfast. Madam Pomfrey nodded but didn’t seem to happy.
“But no sports, no trouble, no getting excited, right, Mr Potter?”
Harry found his clothes on a chair by his bed, only to notice that they had been freshly laundered. He had just finished dressing, when the door to the hospital wing opened, and someone entered on silent feet.
Harry looked up to see Remus Lupin, in his usual worn robes, talking quietly to Poppy Pomfrey, who now seemed more worried about him than about Harry. Harry had to admit that Lupin looked bad : as exhausted as he normally looked after a full moon, thinner than usual and his hair had gained some additional streaks of grey. His face reminded Harry more than ever of his godfather : once young and although not as handsome, it was wasted now, his usual kindness wore a touch of defeat and more than one person’s share of sadness.
Harry was torn between rushing to him and staying where he was, simply because he felt it would be awkward. A pang of guilt about his own selfishness hit him. He had felt as if he was the only one who had lost a close friend, he had wanted to keep the loss and the grief all for himself. But here was someone who had lost just as much, maybe even more than Harry : the last of Lupin’s friends had died, while Harry still had so many friends.
Finally, Lupin came over to him. Another wave of guilt washed over Harry. Wouldn’t Lupin think that it was because of Harry, that Sirius had died? He would never tell Harry, of course, but wouldn’t he feel it?
“How are you, Harry?” Lupin asked kindly and somehow looked hesitating, as if he wanted to do something but couldn’t. Harry had the feeling that Lupin might want to touch him, to shake his hand, to touch his shoulders, to even embrace him, but didn’t dare to do so. Harry would have liked to, too, but he didn’t dare either. So they stood there awkwardly, as Harry replied :
“Fine ... I guess.” The strange thing was, that Harry actually felt fine, as least as far as his body was concerned. But also his heart felt better. Because the place that had been empty and motionless before was now filled with a heavy something. The constant feeling of being on hiatus was gone, replaced by the reassuring sense of a moving time and life.
“I just brought your things from Privet Drive,” Lupin explained, gesturing to towards the door of the hospital wing. “Are you free to leave? I’d like to get out of Poppy Pomfrey’s reach, she seems to have her mind set on keeping me here.” Harry smiled faintly and nodded, together they left the hospital wing.
“I was at Privet Drive, yesterday and this morning,” Lupin explained as they took the stairs to the great hall. “Dumbledore told me what happened. Are you really fine?”
“Yeah, it’s alright. The, uh ““ Harry tipped the scar with a finger, “ visions don’t have after-effects. Did you see the Dursleys? Is Hedwig alright? I heard that some Aurors were injured?” Lupin nodded.
“Bill Weasley is at St. Mungo’s, that’s why Molly isn’t here yet. But he’ll recover soon.” They crossed the Great Hall, which was empty and very bright from the light of a clear summer sky as the enchanted ceiling. No students, no teachers, not even a ghost was there, and they quickly left, stepping outside. With a tired sigh, Lupin settled down on the stairs and Harry sat next to him. The sun already started delicately warming their bodies. Before Harry could ask another question, Lupin started talking.
“There are some things I’d like to talk to you about,” he began. “I would have talked to you earlier, but we were all so busy ... and I wanted to give you some time, too. I didn’t see you after .. what happened. After Sirius died,” he finally brought himself to say. It seemed to take his every strength to drag those words out of himself.
“But when I saw you again at the station, I wondered if maybe I had given you too much time. Did I?” Harry was unable to answer to Lupin’s concerned glance, and the man continued.
“You loved Sirius. I know you did, as sincerely as is possible. I admired you for being able to feel so ... deeply, even though the two of you had so little time. I wanted to say thank you, because Sirius can’t do it anymore. It was the biggest gift you could give him.”
His tight voice was full of emotion as he said those words and Harry could only understand a fraction of those emotions. He was fighting with tears without knowing it, and longing for Lupin to continue.
“I’ve known Sirius for so long ... but I never quite understood where he took this strength from. This ability to endure years and years of darkness without anything visible to hold on to, and still manage to preserve some part of light in himself ... I'm not that strong. He grew up in that .. in that place, but when he came to Hogwarts, he still was basically a good person. How did he do that?” Lupin seemed to be lost in memories, and to have forgotten Harry completely, but now he suddenly shook his head.
“I shouldn’t tell you these things. You’ve good enough burdens to bear.”
“Please do,” Harry burst out without thinking about it. He rarely asked for anything, and Lupin noticed it instantly. He looked at his former pupil for a long moment, trying to see him clearly. To see not a child and not Lily and not James. To see whether Harry was ready to be told such things.
He couldn’t give Harry his happy childhood, he couldn’t give Sirius back to him. But he had the power to evoke his own memories and to make Harry understand. The young man who looked back at him certainly deserved that. And in that moment he noticed “ with a shimmer of surprise “ that Harry didn’t only resemble the young James Potter or his mother. He also spotted a bit of himself in that boy : a boy who had seen darkness and grief too early, who was mature for his age and yet a little helpless. A boy who was unsure about himself.
Remus, who never asked for anything, was a little shocked and oddly pleased by that discovery.
“Harry, I hope you can understand this. I’m not telling you that Sirius wanted to die. He wanted to live very much “ not for himself, but for you. What he thrived on was you, the will to protect you, the love he held for you. If not for you, the dementors would have had his soul easily after your parents’ death.” Smiling wryly, he added : “They wouldn’t even have got him. I think he would have ended it the moment Peter escaped him. Sirius would have liked that kind of dramatic exit, back then.”
“The thought of you and avenging your parents kept him going all through Azkaban. But you’ve seen him. Those years took their toll. I think meeting him again for the first time was the most painful thing I ever saw. I was very happy to finally know that in the end he hadn’t been the traitor, but ... I wondered how it should go on.”
Lupin sighed and went through his greying hair with one hand. It reminded of the tawny, shaggy grey fur of a wolf. Harry was remembering that night, too. How angry, how shocked, how happy, how disappointed he had been. The high hopes he had had.
“And then Sirius’ name couldn’t be cleared and he had to flee the country. But I met him again after your fourth year, and I had been in contact with him all during that year. As you can understand, there was a lot he wouldn’t tell you. He had hopes, but all those hopes were centred on you. But even that couldn’t hide the things that were haunting him. Not only Azkaban, or your parent’s death. Also his childhood, the things we had seen during the war.”
“When we were young, Sirius was a person who knew how to have fun, often on other people’s expenses. He didn’t have a very funny childhood, and he made up properly for that in his school years. But he was never a very happy person. Sometimes he was “ when he lived with your father’s parents, and when he first got his own flat. He told you that he ran away from home when he was your age, didn’t he?” Harry nodded.
“Well, one day this winter, I think after Christmas it was, when you had already left again, he reminded me of that, too. He said that you were nearly grown up now. That you wouldn’t need a parent much longer, that he didn’t when he was your age. He sounded as if he was trying to say that you didn’t need him any longer. I was afraid them, that he might do something stupid. But on the other hand ...
“We shouldn’t try to deceive ourselves, Harry. It was a little wonder that Sirius survived Azkaban as well as he did. But that doesn’t mean that he was totally unaffected by it. I think if not for you, he would have welcomed death when it came to him.”
Now, Lupin looked stricken, as if he feared to have said too much. But Harry suddenly felt as if a lot of pieces were coming together. Sirius would have wanted to die in battle, Hagrid had told him. We’ll meet those who love us, when we die, Luna Lovegood believed. He remembered the voices from behind the veil, the image of his parents in the Mirror of Erised. It would be like coming home ... And now Remus told him that Sirius would have welcomed death. Slowly, a heavy and definite truth sank into his heart, and he let go of a breath that felt like he had been holding it for weeks.
He would be able to accept Sirius’ death.