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1. Denial
Remus loses everything within two days. Dumbledore has him staying at headquarters in case of an emergency, so he has plenty to do. The few Order members left trail in and out, bringing news of the remaining Death Eaters. Remus compiles all of it into neat reports, just as he always has, and tries very hard not to think about anything. When his productivity has reached its peak, he retires to the kitchen and cooks enough for three times as many mouths as are even in the Order, let alone those who eat at headquarters. The awareness that it would have barely fed the original Order is an ache in his stomach.
But while his hands are busy, he is desperately sure that Sirius is going to come back. He’ll announce the greatest prank of the Marauders, and Remus will laugh and cry and rage. All Sirius has to do is step through that door.
He never does.
2. Anger
An eternity of waiting later, Remus has lost hope and found anger. It’s so uncharacteristic, he’s not sure how to express himself. Even at Hogwarts, in the aftermath of Sirius’ terrible prank Remus had felt more betrayal than actually anger. It’s an emotion he associates with the wolf, born of long nights with a fierce fire burning in his blood.
Remus doesn’t even know who he’s angry at; Voldemort is the obvious target, but Sirius has to fit in there as well, only Sirius is already gone away, like Lily and James and Peter…
He doesn’t sleep very well.
Thoughts of being abandoned swirl around his head, intensifying his anger. He’s furious at Sirius for killing Peter and betraying James and Lily. Worse, he’s furious at James and Lily and Peter for leaving him alone. He can’t help but feel that they should have been stronger or fought harder. When he can’t hate them any longer, Remus turns his wrath on the world and fate. This should never have happened. Mostly, it turns into a vicious cycle where Remus makes himself sick with fury.
After two days, Remus has worked his way up to livid and ready to attack anyone who steps wrong. He’s taken to snarling under his breath whenever anyone mentions Voldemort. Emmeline, normally level-headed, snaps at him a week after Sirius is taken to Azkaban.
“Have you gone mental? You can’t just scribble personal commentary in the margins of our reports, particularly about other Order members!” she shouts, waving a piece of parchment in front of his nose.
“If you have some sort of problem, Emmeline, then you’re welcome to do it yourself. At least then you’d be doing something!” Remus finishes on a roar. He feels out of control, knows even as the words come out of his mouth that he’s being unreasonable. A gentle voice sounds in the den just as Emmeline is opening her mouth to voice a scathing reply.
“Enough, Remus, Emmeline.” Remus spins around to see Dumbledore looking solemn. “I’m sure that Remus will be sure to be more careful in his future notes, Emmeline. Now, if you would be so kind as to greet Alice in the hall.” Remus shifts slightly as Emmeline leaves, still furious but also ashamed.
“Now, I think it’s past time you and I have a chat,” Dumbledore says as he turns to Remus. He gestures to the table and chairs tucked next to the bookcase in the corner. Remus sits reluctantly.
“I know that you are angry at what has happened,” Dumbledore begins. His eyes are sad, and Remus struggles to remember that he too lost friends that night. Most of what he feels is an overwhelming fury.
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s your business,” he bites out. Dumbledore looks even sadder.
“Oh Remus, you have always been the one your friends worry about. Why should now be any different?”
“Because they’re all gone. Perhaps that changes things.”
“Those who love us are never truly gone if we remember them fondly.”
“Then where are they, Professor? Where is everyone that promised we would be together forever? I’m all alone now—”Remus breaks off with something between a snarl and a sob. He keeps sobbing, violent heaving breaths. Dumbledore sits silently, a comforting presence.
Gradually Remus stops, calming himself down until he’s breathing normally again. He feels hollowed out and the anger is gone.
“All seems hopeless now, but there is hope in Harry, Remus. Remember that,” Dumbledore says, putting a hand on Remus’ shoulder as he leaves.
Remus doesn’t know if he’s ever going to hope again.
3. Bargaining
The night after his row with Emmeline (who still refuses to look at him), Sturgis comes into headquarters with the news that Frank and Alice Longbottom are in St. Mungo’s. Since Halloween and Voldemort’s disappearance, the Order had been keeping watch on the Death Eaters. Generally, Voldemort’s forces are imploding, crippled by the realization that without the Dark Lord, they’re vulnerable. The giants, at least, have started to migrate back to where they came from, and masses of Death Eaters and sympathizers have begun claiming to have been under the Imperius curse. Overall, it’s a lot of tidying up but not a lot of fighting.
That’s why the news of the Longbottoms is so startling. Even Remus is surprised through the grief-stricken haze he spends his time in. It gets worse when Sturgis relays that their condition is unknown, but the Healers assume the worst.
It seems as if the casualties will never end. Remus retreats to his room as the talk turns to the baby Neville. He feels desperate, determined not to lose any more friends. Please, he pleads silently. He doesn’t even know who he’s addressing. All he knows is that he would do anything for things to be the way they were.
As he’s dreaming, James and Lily just stare at him and cry softly.
“I wish I could have seen him become a man,” Lily whispers in a tone of despair. Remus tries to reach out, bring either of them back but they shift out of reach and dissolve. Sirius appears slowly, the same grin that was always just for Remus on his face. At Remus’ answering smile, however, it twists into a sneer.
“And now I’ve killed them all, Remus, and what are you to do? Languish alone and friendless? You will always be alone now—”
Remus jolts awake, panting. He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to erase the images in his mind. Eventually, he drifts off again, and he doesn’t dream.
When he wakes up in the morning, Minerva tells him that the Longbottoms have gone mad and will never recover. It takes years for Remus to utter anything resembling a prayer again.
4. Depression
The Death Eaters, a week after Lord Voldemort’s disappearance, seem to realize he isn’t going to return. Aside from the unfortunate four who are heading to Azkaban for the Longbottoms’ torture (say hello to your cousin for me, Bellatrix, Remus thinks bitterly) the last remaining hold-outs give themselves up and generally make pathetic excuses. Imperius seems to be a particular favorite—there are more people claiming to be under the curse than wizards who could have cast the curse to begin with.
Dumbledore seems to sense Remus’ lack of purpose from the obvious way he broods around Headquarters. He drafts Remus into the same kind of task as the other Order members; Remus is going to watch Lucius Malfoy. Surveillance is the only real task left, and it’s more of a precaution: with Lord Voldemort gone, all the Order has left to do is keep watch for signs of Death Eater unrest.
Remus is glad for the work: it gives him a reason to be functional. He can’t help remembering James and Lily and Peter (and Sirius, his mind supplies traitorously) and wondering what’s worth living for anymore. He loses weight, but doesn’t see anyone often enough for them to notice. He doesn’t sleep much either. Even Dumbledore’s gentle looks can’t get him to care what he’s doing to himself or break him out of the depression he’s fallen into.
In the Malfoys, Remus observes the family that Harry could have had, and feels all the worse for it. Lucius might be cold, but even he makes an effort to spend time with the toddler Draco, and Narcissa absolutely dotes on her son. Just watching them makes something hurt deep inside Remus’ chest; sometimes his vision will blur and he’ll see messy black or red hair instead of platinum and laughing instead of restrained smiles.
Lucius doesn’t seem to be doing anything other than staying inconspicuous, and aside from occasional dark artifact dealing, Remus doesn’t see anything he shouldn’t. It should make him angry that it’s so easy for the former Death Eater to return to his life with so few consequences, but Remus doesn’t have the energy for anything other than overwhelming sadness.
He realises how bad he must look when Emmeline comes to relieve him the day before the full moon. She still hasn’t forgiven him and in the occasions they’ve seen each other she’s been distant. When her gaze lands on him, however, her eyes widen and mouth tightens.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” she whispers in dismay. Remus shrugs one shoulder and tries to hold back the lupine snarl building in his chest.
After a few perfunctory instructions, he apparates to Headquarters. The cellar is where he’s been weathering full moons for over a year now, and it is remarkably sturdy. His routine at this point is set in stone: he lays strong barrier charms around the door (which someone else will replicate outside), sets his wand on a high ledge (so he doesn’t snap it accidentally), disrobes, hangs his robes on a very high hook, and sits down to wait.
Normally, the wait is difficult because it gives him time to contemplate the pain of the transformation and his fears that this will be when he finally escapes. This time, however, the silence lets the memories sweep over him and he sinks under the weight of them. Despair has been like some sort of tide sweeping in and out for the past few weeks, and now it crashes over him.
Remus wants this change to be the one that ends it all, because how can he possibly go on any longer without everyone he called family with this terrible feeling inside him? He feels a moment of panic when he realises he can’t remember the sound of James’ laugh or the color of Peter’s hair or Lily’s brilliant smile. It’s been less than two months and already they’re gone, erased, all memory swept away. It’s enough to break him and violent sobs rip out of his chest.
They go on long enough that the change takes over him and he doesn’t remember anything except animalistic fury.
5. Acceptance
Harry at six years old is small for his age (or maybe dwarfed by oversized hand-me-downs) with thin wrists and enormous eyes. The set of his mouth as his cousin calls abuse is tight and miserable, but the set of his chin is determined and he doesn’t cry. James is in every line of his face, and Lily in his eyes, and Remus can’t catch his breath.
For so long, he’d thought about that Halloween in terms of loss and death. Seeing Harry alive, though, he finally grasps that everything was about love and sacrifice. Harry, child of tragedy, is proof of something deeper, whether he knows it or not. And there’s something about the boy, something that isn’t quite there yet but will grow in future years, and Remus can see why Lily and James gave everything for this boy, their son. Remus can’t say that Harry is worth it—not yet—but maybe someday he’ll appreciate that sacrifice.
Dumbledore, behind him, moves to put a hand on his shoulder. Remus nods and turns away. He sees now why Dumbledore waited to bring him to see Harry and in a surge of gratitude smiles carefully. Dumbledore, cheerful as ever, returns it. As one, they turn and apparate away.