Tales > The Night After the Battle

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I borrowed several lines from the books Prisoner of Azkaban and Order of the Phoenix. Please don't file a law suit against me, Jo ^^;;

He walked slowly uphill rather tiredly. His amber eyes were half-opened. His forehead was sweating. The night summer wind blew against his graying brown hair. But he took no notice. His mind was quite blank after what had happened a few hours back.

Not knowing where he was going, his leg hit something. He looked up.

The door of a wooden house stood before him.

For a moment, he felt like some invincible puppeteer pulled his right hand towards the doorknob. He turned the doorknob, the door clicked and ajar with an eerie squeak.

Get in. He found himself thinking.

He stepped his right leg on the door step, heaved himself inside the deserted wooden house. The door caught the wind and banged the door shut. He jolted. He reeled around. He wanted to see the messy hair of his friend appeared out of thin air and grinned at him, saying 'Sorry' rather mischievously.

But no one was there but himself.

He reached out his hand. His eyes narrowed.

I know you are there, Prongs.

He made a gesture of grabbing something and pulled down. Nothing happened. No one was there. No one…

Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned and looked around. Every nook and cranny of the wooden house had a ray of the moonlight shone through them, illuminating the dark interior. Carved on the wooden walls were scratch marks of a pair of giant claws. He looked away at his other self's own work of art.

Go upstairs.

He walked towards the wooden stairs. Every step made a creek so ear splitting he thought there was his other friend squealed.

Do not be silly, Wormtail. It is not going to crack a hole and sink your foot in.

He looked down at the stairs he took. Footprints were visible on the dusty floor. And there had been lots of footprints.

That's Hermione's cat's footprints. There's Ron's blood stain. Two pairs of footprints…Must be Harry and Hermione's. That's Snape's. That's my own, and…

He saw paw prints. His heart sank.

Padfoot.

He remembered it so well. The commotion took place in this bedroom. He closed his eyes. His memories took him back almost two years ago, where everything were revealed. He could hear it. All the voices, including his own; echoed here in this room…

'WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – QUICK!'

'Where is he, Sirius?'

'Professor Lupin, what's going-?'

'Get away from me, werewolf!'

'Vengeance is very sweet. How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…'

'Harry… Harry… you look just like your father…just like him…'

'HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?'

Sirius's voice echoed so loud in his mind, he opened his eyes in shock. He turned around, looking for signs of the owner of the paw prints –

There was no one. The wind rattled the wooden boarded up window. He stared through the cranny of the window and looked outside. It was late at night. The Hogwarts Castle silhouetted in the cloudless sky. Pinpricks of candlelight shone from the magnificent castle. For a splendid moment he stood there, his mind drifted off somewhere in time.

He remembered the first day he arrived at the castle and met new friends. He recalled their mischievous times wondered off the castle at night. The horrid transformation; and his three friends were there, turning themselves into different animals, waiting for him to start their nighttime adventures. He thought back on the wonderful time he witnessed one of his friends' wedding day, and he himself taking pictures of the event. His heart sank again at James and Lily's death, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. His youth wasted in over a decade, before he got to see the son of his best friend. The corner of his eyes started to fill when he recalled how he hugged Sirius like a brother here in this very room, before they parted shortly after. Then, last year, he was beside Sirius again…and lost him forever several hours ago…

Still standing by the window, he looked at his own hands that illuminated in the moonlight. He felt it again. How Harry had struggled from his grasps, preventing him going after his Godfather. And then he heard him yelled. The words echoed in the room and his mind.

'HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!'

He clenched his fists. Then, against his temptation to hold back, two drops of tears landed at his fists. More tears followed after the first two, and Sorrow got the better of him. He sat flat on the dusty, wooden floor, and wept in silence.

The night's temperature was cold. The crickets and owls made their presences with their sounds. He stared at the opposite of the room blankly. He was tired from the battle; he was getting sleepy…he couldn't move…he felt the chill under his skin…his eye lids were getting heavier…Tears were still flowing down from the corner of his eyes…

'Moony…'

Who's there…?

'Wake up…'

No…Please let me sleep…

'No, you mustn't…'

Just a few more minutes…it's so comfortable…

'You can't be with us now…'

Why…?

'He needs you…'

Who needs me…?

'Harry needs you…!'

But I…want to…be…with…you…

'No…! Wake up, Moony…!'

Wait! Don't go…Lily…Prongs…Padfoot…I…!

'WAKE UP! MOONY!'

It happened very fast. Remus woke with a start. His eyes snapped wide open. His gasped for breath as he bolted upright. His breathing became heavy as though he was fighting for air. He felt the cold, damp sweat that soaked the bed sheet…

'What…?' He looked around. Sure enough he was sitting on the four poster bed in the Shack, and a blanket covered his cold body.

'How…?' He frowned. He did not understand. How could he end up on the bed, when he last remembered he was sitting on the wooden floor near the window?

He looked around again, hoping to see someone by his side. There was no one. He thought it was impossible for him to sleep-walking his way to the bed, and covered himself with a blanket. Yet how on Earth did he end up here?

Something bright caught his eyes. He looked up and saw, to his amazement, the boarded up window burst open. A ray of sunshine made its way through the window. He leapt from the bed and dashed towards the window. He was hoping to see someone outside the window. Someone…anyone…to answer his questions…

There was no one. Instead, lying on the window-sill were a pile of fluffy white large feathers. He was about to wonder had the birds' chirping woke him up, when he saw three particularly long feathers curled up to what looked like alphabets:

J L S

His cold body immediately felt warmer. His cold sweat dried up. He did not need to think what just happened. He somehow, miraculously knew…

Narrowing his eyes so he did not catch the sunlight directly, he looked up at the blue sky. Among the clouds he caught sight of the shapes of a stag, a flower and a dog. Overwhelmed by warmth, his hold on his tears which filled his amber eyes; and muttered in an undertone-

'Thank you.'

After taking several deep breaths, he picked up his wand from the bedside table, walked downstairs and carefully walked out of the wooden door from passersby's' view. With the new found life and determination, Remus walked towards the village, looking forward for a decent breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, and, maybe at Honeydukes later, some chocolate.