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The Last Marauder by missclaire17
Chapter 1 : Wolfstar
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 6


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*WARNING: Strong Language*

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“SIRIUS!”

On instinct, Remus had grabbed Harry.

While Harry continued to struggle, there were no thoughts running through Remus’s mind except for the thought that he had to keep it together for Harry.

His voice broke, and it took all of the most painful effort, even more painful than what his monthly transformation were like without the Wolfsbane Potion, to keep the tears threatening to pour down at bay.

“SHE KILLED SIRIUS! SHE KILLED HIM! I’LL KILL HER!”***

Somehow, Remus could hardly fault Harry for such thoughts ran through his own mind.


How great it would feel to kill Bellatrix Lestrange, Remus thought to himself vindictively. How great it would feel to bring pain and to bring justice to the pathetic excuse for a human that killed his last best friend.
 





The moment Remus left the care of Madam Pomfrey, he could no longer hid the pain swelling up in his heart.

He could no longer pretend to be okay that his best friend, his long lost best friend, was dead, once again.

There was barely enough energy for Remus to drag himself from the Hogwarts’ grounds to the Shrieking Shack. By the time Remus difficultly made his way inside the shack, he collapsed onto the floor, too tired to pull himself up.

Hot tears poured down his face for the first time in 14 years.

In 14 years, he hadn’t allowed himself to cry.

He hadn’t allowed himself to openly show and display that pain that lingered in the back of his mind day and night. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel the loss of his best friends.

But now, at a time when the War had barely just begun, Remus found himself falling apart beyond repair.

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand it all.

The way that no one, except perhaps Hermione, who was exceptionally observant, and Madam Pomfrey, who had an extensive history with Lupin himself, seemed to notice how big of a personal impact Sirius’s death had on someone else other than Harry.

The way that Sirius’s death was talked about like a tragic accident, but one that was inevitable, given that this was war.

Did they not understand?

Did no one realize that Sirius was not meant to die?

Even in Remus’s anger and grief, he could not find it in himself to fault Harry. He and Sirius had feared it from the beginning.

What a terrible idea it was from Dumbledore to have Severus Snape of all people teach Harry Occlumency.

Though under normal circumstances, Remus neither liked nor disliked Severus Snape, he couldn’t help the deep growing anger that welled up inside him at the thought of Severus Snape.

If only… if only he had taught Harry Occlumency correctly!

If only he hadn’t thought of it as a means of revenge!

If only he had been mature like an adult to take it seriously!

But thinking hatred thoughts towards Severus Snape only brought him more pain; more pain because he knew someone (or some bodies) who always regarded Severus Snape with hatred or some other feeling of dissatisfaction.

And it was far too painful to think of his two best friends, the two best friends who had left him alone and emotionally vulnerable once again.

More tears streamed down his face as he remembered everything that happened in this room.

The memories that seemed a lifetime away.

The memories that made Remus scream out in agony.

Sirius shouldn’t have died.

There was no getting around the fact that Sirius should be standing next to him, or with Harry at this moment, breathing and very much alive.

Remus didn’t even know where he could begin with the finger pointing, or if that was even the right thing to do.

But for the first time in his life since the blissful and mindless days of the Marauders at Hogwarts, he allowed himself to think irresponsibly. He allowed himself, for once, to not act so much like the adult that he had always been.

Remus had already blamed Severus Snape.

Who else was there?

Perhaps Dumbledore? The man who Remus suddenly felt anger towards for the second time in his life, the first being when Dumbledore had ordered Sirius to remain inside 12 Grimmauld Place.

How could Dumbledore had been so blind to see how painful that would be? How bad of an idea that was, to keep Sirius locked up 12 Grimmauld Place?

Did he not know or did he even care for Sirius at all?

But Remus couldn’t blame Dumbledore at the moment. He had no doubt that Harry was most likely shouting himself hoarse at Dumbledore.

Who else was there then?

Bellatrix Lestrange, of course.

The cold, heartless bitch whose wand had struck Sirius, sending him falling through the Veil with such grace at death that only Sirius could achieve.

It was beyond any sort of pain Remus had ever felt as he remembered that exact moment, the moment that Remus, for the first time in his life, felt truly shocked and speechless.

He didn’t believe it.

For a split second, Remus couldn’t believe that his best friend, the best friend who excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, the best friend who had never lost any duels unless it was against James, had fallen.

Sirius Black had fallen.

And there was no sentence in the world that brought greater pain than that.

Sirius, the eleven year old boy who had so boldly introduced himself to Remus when the four of them reached their dormitories.

Sirius, the twelve year old boy who couldn’t be more excited and sincere at the thought of risking his life to help Remus.

Sirius, the thirteen year old boy who felt incredibly frustrated for the first time while attempting a process, usually reserved for adults under the special scrutiny of the Ministry.

Sirius, the fourteen year old boy who eagerly threw away his pride, the pride that he desperately loved, in order to beg Remus for forgiveness because of his moment of stupidity towards Severus Snape.

Sirius, the fifteen year old boy who became an Animagus in the form of a giant black dog, and willingly accompanied a dangerous werewolf for numerous full moon nights.

Sirius, the sixteen year old boy who had run away from home, and the same one who had eventually told Remus and the others that they were his real family.

Sirius, the seventeen year old boy who accepted Dumbledore’s request to join the Order of the Phoenix immediately, not hesitating and not cowering behind in fear.

Sirius, the thirty five year old man who had endured twelve years of Azkaban for committing high crimes of which he had been completely innocent off.

Sirius, the thirty seven year old man who had fallen dead, only after two years of Remus gaining back one half of his best friends, whom he thought he had lost for twelve years.

Sirius Black had fallen.

And Remus wanted to die.

He wanted to kill himself in this immeasurable pain that he felt deep in the bottom of his heart. More than James and Lily, and less than nothing.

James and Lily had their fate carved out for them, and it had been unspoken amongst them that the two of them had long accepted their fate, as long as Harry was safe.

James and Lily had far longer to prepare themselves for the inevitable end, the inevitable end that would most likely come from Voldemort.

But Sirius….

The man who had survived despite all odds.

The man who had gone to Hell and back.

The man who had deserved his freedom.

It had meant to be the three of them, after the War.

The three of them, Remus, Sirius, and Harry, would become a real family; the family forged in 1971 when four boys introduced themselves to each other in the confines of their dormitory.

He three of them, Remus, Sirius, and harry, would become a real family that was meant to have survived that long.

Yet now it could not happen.

The War depended even more heavily on Remus and the efforts of the Order of the Phoenix.

With the Ministry now well aware that Voldemort indeed was back and the entire fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, there was no doubt in Remus’s mind that the War would spiral to an unprecedented degree.

Had Sirius been with Remus, he would have felt it all might be manageable.

After all, Remus had realized, the times in his life when he felt vulnerable and insecure were the times in his life when he didn’t have his friends, he didn’t have Sirius by his side.

Though they had been young, with the Marauders, Remus felt that anything was possible.

And anything had been possible, the full moon being the epitome of that statement.

They had turned Remus’s lycanthropy into something that was a great source of memory for all of them.

It had been the one period of time in Remus’s life when he thought that perhaps being a werewolf wasn’t that bad after all.

The tears had long stopped streaming down, though the pain had not subsided the least bit.

The pain of losing Sirius was deep, open, and fresh.

And Remus feared that he wouldn’t get over that pain any time soon.

But there was other things to do now.

As the last Marauder, Remus had to make it count.

He would go out of this world with a bang, and show everyone just what the Marauders were capable of.

He would show everyone that the youthful energy and the youthful dreams of happily ever after were not lost and that they were very much alive in Remus, the spirit of his fellow friends, brothers, and Marauders alive inside of him.

Him, Remus “Moony” Lupin, the Last Marauder.

 


 

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A/N:

I hope you guys like this! This was just something that popped in my mind and I thought I might as well just go ahead and write it. 

Whenever people talk about Sirius's death in OotP, they always seem to focus Harry, how Harry felt, the rant/talk he and Dumbledore had in Dumbledore's study... 

No one seems to remember that there was someone who was as close, if not much MUCH closer to Sirius, than Harry was.

Which is Remus.

And I always expected that Sirius's death striked a chord with him, and maybe that's why he rejected Tonks because he didn't want anyone else he cared about to be hurt, and Remus thought that if Tonks surrounded herself with him, she'd get hurt.

At least that's my reasoning. I hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave a review! 

Claire


***: Taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; Chapter 36. 
I do not own Harry Potter or anything familiar. 





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