Alignments FINAL INSTALLMENT
wellymuck Installment 33
Series title: Alignments
Series summary: Friends come together and pull apart under the pressures of the first war with Voldemort. Scenes across five Aprils.
Series rating: PG-13
Author: magnetic_pole
Word Count: 2,500
Installment 33: Epilogue, November 3, 1981
Summary: Life resumes.
Note: Second of two parts.
To those of you out there who have been following this series, THANK YOU for reading. Six weeks later, 60,000 words and 150 pages behind us, we're finally at the end. I'm amazed that we've all made it this far and very, very grateful for all the encouragement you've offered along the way.
For Remus, November 3, 1981, was an extraordinary day.
It had begun quite normally, a trip to the Patils' cafe to do some reading before class, to have a cup of tea and a perhaps a chat, to sort through the most recent Prophets. The cafe was unusually quiet, and Remus had given up on his coursework quickly, settling in to read the paper and relax for a few moments before the day really began.
The past few days' newspapers were filled with all the usual news: more attacks, more Ministry regulations. He skimmed them absently, fingers running along the rim of his cup and saucer.
Then, on the cover of this morning's Prophet, he saw something that turned his world upside down: Sirius' face. It was an odd sensation, finding something so familiar somewhere so unexpected. He touched the newsprint version of Sirius hesitantly, then turned to the stories running alongside it. On Halloween 1981, when he had been at work, finishing a late shift, the most extraordinary thing had happened: a toddler had brought Voldemort down. The stories about this event were filled with familiar names, names that were so ordinary, so oft-repeated, Remus could barely understand the way they were used in this context. Lily, James, Harry--Harry? Really? Was that what Alice’s mother had meant?--Peter, Sirius--no, no, not Sirius--thirteen Muggles dead with a single curse and Voldemort defeated and the wizarding world alive with celebrations.
Remus stood up abruptly, spilling his tea. Mrs. Patil came over to ask if he was well. Absurdly, she pressed him to come to dinner that evening. He couldn't imagine ever eating again. He made some excuses and fled.
*
He walked the streets of his neighborhood in a daze, thinking about what he had just read.
The death of Lily and James hurt but did not surprise him. In a way he had been preparing for their deaths since he first got Sirius’ brief letter about the attack on Alice and Frank. Even earlier, perhaps; since Dorcas Meadowes was killed a year ago and James began talking about joining Lily in the hunt for Voldemort. There had been several close calls, and Order members spoke about Lily and Alice with a special reverence and respect. Everyone knew these they had the most difficult and dangerous job, and they knew that these two, sometimes paired together, sometimes paired with their husbands, were putting their lives on the line during their work for the Order. Ever since he heard about the attack on Alice and Frank, Remus had had nightmares about Lily and James, fighting together, brought down together with a single, unexpected, powerful curse.
But Peter, Peter surprised him. He had always felt a secret kinship with Peter, who, like him, had always avoided detention at school and smarted shamefully under McGonagall's wrath. Neither he nor Peter had ever possessed the daring or the foolhardiness of James or Sirius; they were not the ones caught in McGongall's office, or out in the hallways after hours, or trying to get into the girls' dormitory. He and Peter were the ones who, as adults, looked for the path of compromise; they were the ones who advocated moderation in Order meetings; they were the ones who were secretly terrified of risk and exposure and death.
And now Peter was a hero. It filled Remus with pride to think about this. Remus had never looked favorably on James' or Sirius' brashness while at school, but since they had become involved in the war Remus had always wondered if, when the time came, he and Peter would have the courage to do the right thing, despite their caution and their fear and their prudent and selfish concern for their own skin. It embarrassed him now to realize that he had always suspected Peter did not have this courage, to stay when things were difficult, to take a stand, to risk everything including death. He had not given Peter enough credit.
And Sirius. The news was so incongruous with what he knew about Sirius that he could hardly process it. There was no explanation for recent events. The Prophet did not even try to offer one, though it insinuated subtly that Sirius was a Black, and blood would tell. Remus had flushed with anger when he read that. He simply could not believe that Sirius had done what the Prophet claimed he had done. His mind frantically rehearsed dozens of alternative scenarios, involving the Imperius curse, Polyjuice potion, memory modification--even some that did not involve magic or malice, like insanity. (He thought of Sirius’ dark-haired cousin and shuddered and pushed that possibility to the back of his mind.) There had to be some explanation. His mind hurt with the effort to think of it.
*
The possibility of magical deceit--Polyjuice? Imperius? But by whom?--was so appealing that he spent most of the afternoon making the long trip up to Notting Hill, where he pounded on the door of the flat until his fists hurt, convinced Sirius was there. No one emerged.
He had sunk to the floor and leaned back against the door, wondering what to do next, when Sirius' next-door neighborhood opened her door and peered out at him.
"What are you doing here? Why are you making all this noise?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought he managed to get rid of you."
Remus gritted his teeth. "Sorry to bother. I'm looking for him."
"He hasn't been here in days," she said. "I think he may be out of town." Then, almost slyly, she added: "I'm sure if he wanted you to find him he would have told you."
Even though this was not true, it hurt. Remus nodded his thanks and left. Not until he was back on the tube did he remember that the Imperius curse was fairly easy to detect, that Polyjuice potion needed to be taken regularly, and that anyone who had tried to impersonate or control Sirius Black would surely have been exposed by now.
*
He went to Mrs. Patil's flat for dinner, partly because he had not had the presence of mind to turn down the invitation and partly because a certain numbness was starting to set in and he longed for a familiar face and some comforting words, even if he couldn't fully explain his distress.
The Patils' flat was located in a tower block only a few blocks from the cafe, a short walk from the tube stop. As he passed the cafe he noticed it had been closed early. Mr. Patil would be home, then, along with Mrs. Patil and the twins.
He took the lift to the eleventh floor and had paused as he tried to remember whether the flat was to the left or the right when he heard Mrs. Patil's voice calling to him.
"What are you doing in the hallway?" she said, opening her door and gesturing frantically. "Hurry, come in, come in." She pulled him inside and shut the door.
"You've got to be careful," she said. "Dumbledore says you're not to linger outside."
"Dumbledore?" he said, amazed. "You know Dumbledore?"
"Of course. Everyone knows Dumbledore," she said, a sly grin grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"You're a witch," he said, suddenly remembering the stack of Prophets left behind the cafe.
"Effectively disguised, am I not?" Mrs. Patil smiled, a little pride evident in her eyes. "How long have we known each other now? Six months?"
Remus' head reeled. He sank down onto the couch and held it in his hands.
"I always thought your curries were a little too good," he joked weakly. "What do you really do?"
"Oh, Mr. Patil really cooks," Mrs. Patil said, nodding at her husband, who was seated on the sitting room floor with his twin daughters and a few toys. "The Muggle way, mostly. Apart from the samosas and some of the curries. A little magic improves those. He has a Muggle degree, but the cafe has been a better source of income. I'm a curse breaker. In India I did the work myself. Here I mostly do research on curses. Sometimes I do research for Dumbledore. Makes working in the cafe ever so much more interesting."
"Looking after you has been a part-time job these past few months," Mr. Patil added. "Hope you don't mind. We've kept you quite safe. We're earning a bit extra for a trip back home next winter. Don't want the girls to forget their roots." He held one of twin girls in the crook of his arm, bouncing her up and down on his knee.
His head spun. Dumbledore had arranged for someone to look after him? To protect him or to spy on him? He felt exposed and vulnerable. He thought about all the conversations he had had with Mrs. Patil over the past few months, about the times he had visited their flat for dinner, trying to remember if he had said anything incriminating. He didn't think he had, but it was hard to be certain.
The other twin had crawled into his lap, and he stroked her hair absently. It occurred to him that no one moved to take her away from him, and he relaxed slightly. They did not know everything about him.
"You saw the news in the Prophet this morning," Mrs. Patil said, stating a fact rather than asking a question.
Remus nodded.
"Right, then. I don't know how best to break this to you, but Dumbledore says you need to leave soon, for your own safety," Mrs. Patil said. "I know this is a bad way to learn this, but your disappearance six months ago caused a great deal of suspicion, and, given your friendship with Sirius Black, you may be in even more danger now than before."
"Pardon?" It had occurred to Remus when the werewolves threw their support behind Voldemort that his defeat might the beginning of his troubles rather than the end, but he had not really thought through what the events of the last few days might mean for him.
"Dumbledore is devastated by the news, as I'm sure you can imagine," Mrs. Patil said. "He was worried that you were involved, too, but I assured him that, apart from the newspapers, you've had absolutely no contact with the wizarding world since you've been here. Certainly no contact with this man Sirius Black. He's decided the best thing for you would be to accept an assignment overseas. Until things settle down, at least. If you still consider yourself a part of the Order and want to continue to help."
Remus sat, unmoving, unable to comprehend what Mrs. Patil had just said.
"Come here, Parvati," Mr. Patil said gently. "Mr. Lupin needs to leave on a trip very soon." He reached out and gathered her into his arms.
Remus relinquished the toddler. So Dumbledore believed what the Prophet said about Sirius. Dumbledore was worried about Remus’ association with him. Perhaps he knew something the Prophet had not covered. This alone was not enough to convince Remus of Sirius’ guilt--that would take years of adjustment and heartache and forgetting--but this was enough to strike fear into Remus’ heart. Fear for both Sirius and himself.
"We have the Portkey here," Mrs. Patil said, gesturing towards towards a discarded umbrella sitting on top of a small table. "We set it up this afternoon."
Remus looked from Mr. Patil and the twins back to Mrs. Patil. "Do I have other options?" he asked in a low voice.
Mrs. Patil looked at him with something akin to sympathy. "We always have options," she said. She glanced quickly at Mr. Patil, and he nodded at her. "If you left right now, we wouldn't say anything. You could trust us. You could leave, disappear into Muggle London, and no one would ever know. But you don't want to live as a Muggle forever, do you?" she asked.
Remus thought about the life he had begun in the past few months and about the life he wanted to return to. He thought about his course at university and the friends he had met and his job at the coop. Then he thought about his parents, whom he hadn't seen in years now, and the friends he had in the wizarding world, who were now mostly gone, and his bleak job prospects in a world that understood what a werewolf was. Remus shook his head mutely. No, even so, he didn't want to live as a Muggle. It surprised him to discover that he was a wizard even before he was a student or a son or a friend or a Dark Creature; he had never thought of himself this way.
After a moment Mrs. Patil spoke again.
"There will be someone waiting for you at the other end. To give you instructions on your next assignment and some gold," Mrs. Patil said. "Dumbledore's already made the arrangements. Your room and things here will be taken care of."
Of course Dumbledore would have already made the arrangements. Remus felt a surge of resentment. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked the others to do this; he wouldn't assume they would step aside the way he always needed to. Sirius would have turned and left and disappeared into Muggle London, or he would have railed against the unfairness of the situation, arguing and threatening and enlisting allies and doing everything he could to change the situation. Then again, he wasn’t Sirius, Remus thought with a sigh. He didn’t want to disappear into Muggle London, and he didn’t want to return to the wizarding world to argue his case, taking the chance that he might join Sirius and the other werewolves in Azkaban. He imagined what justice there was in the next few days would be all too swift.
Azkaban. If indeed Sirius made it to Azkaban. He seemed like a likely candidate for the Dementor's Kiss if Dumbledore believed in his guilt. Remus shied away from the thought. He felt a deep weariness settle into his bones.
"Would you deliver a message for me?" Remus asked. Mrs. Patil nodded. He pulled a pen and a scrap of paper out of his pocket and paused, wondering what he needed to write and who might need an apology and an explanation for his absence. If Sirius was killed, who else was there? Finally he jotted down Patrice’s address--although the Patils probably already know that, he thought--and a short note.
Then, thinking about Peter, he added the following final line, underlining it with a firm hand:
"If anyone comes asking for me, please tell them I'm away now but will come home as soon as I can."
He was not heroic, like Peter, and not a risk-taker, like Sirius, but he would live to fight another day.
He handed the scrap to Mrs. Patil.
"Good luck, Mr. Lupin. This isn't goodbye; I feel sure we'll see each other again one day," she added with a nod and a smile.
Remus reached out for the Portkey. At the last moment he realized he'd forgotten to ask where he was going, and he pulled his hand back.
"Where am I headed?" he asked, already feeling a little tired. "Did Dumbledore even tell you?"
"Albania," Mrs. Patil said.
Albania. A very old, very magical place, a world away from Muggle London. Remus smiled wryly. Not where he thought he would end up, but then again, by November 1981 no one was where they thought they would end up.
Remus reached out and grasped the Portkey firmly.
*
End of Epilogue, Part 2.
End of series.
Series title: Alignments
Series summary: Friends come together and pull apart under the pressures of the first war with Voldemort. Scenes across five Aprils.
Series rating: PG-13
Author: magnetic_pole
Word Count: 2,500
Installment 33: Epilogue, November 3, 1981
Summary: Life resumes.
Note: Second of two parts.
To those of you out there who have been following this series, THANK YOU for reading. Six weeks later, 60,000 words and 150 pages behind us, we're finally at the end. I'm amazed that we've all made it this far and very, very grateful for all the encouragement you've offered along the way.
For Remus, November 3, 1981, was an extraordinary day.
It had begun quite normally, a trip to the Patils' cafe to do some reading before class, to have a cup of tea and a perhaps a chat, to sort through the most recent Prophets. The cafe was unusually quiet, and Remus had given up on his coursework quickly, settling in to read the paper and relax for a few moments before the day really began.
The past few days' newspapers were filled with all the usual news: more attacks, more Ministry regulations. He skimmed them absently, fingers running along the rim of his cup and saucer.
Then, on the cover of this morning's Prophet, he saw something that turned his world upside down: Sirius' face. It was an odd sensation, finding something so familiar somewhere so unexpected. He touched the newsprint version of Sirius hesitantly, then turned to the stories running alongside it. On Halloween 1981, when he had been at work, finishing a late shift, the most extraordinary thing had happened: a toddler had brought Voldemort down. The stories about this event were filled with familiar names, names that were so ordinary, so oft-repeated, Remus could barely understand the way they were used in this context. Lily, James, Harry--Harry? Really? Was that what Alice’s mother had meant?--Peter, Sirius--no, no, not Sirius--thirteen Muggles dead with a single curse and Voldemort defeated and the wizarding world alive with celebrations.
Remus stood up abruptly, spilling his tea. Mrs. Patil came over to ask if he was well. Absurdly, she pressed him to come to dinner that evening. He couldn't imagine ever eating again. He made some excuses and fled.
*
He walked the streets of his neighborhood in a daze, thinking about what he had just read.
The death of Lily and James hurt but did not surprise him. In a way he had been preparing for their deaths since he first got Sirius’ brief letter about the attack on Alice and Frank. Even earlier, perhaps; since Dorcas Meadowes was killed a year ago and James began talking about joining Lily in the hunt for Voldemort. There had been several close calls, and Order members spoke about Lily and Alice with a special reverence and respect. Everyone knew these they had the most difficult and dangerous job, and they knew that these two, sometimes paired together, sometimes paired with their husbands, were putting their lives on the line during their work for the Order. Ever since he heard about the attack on Alice and Frank, Remus had had nightmares about Lily and James, fighting together, brought down together with a single, unexpected, powerful curse.
But Peter, Peter surprised him. He had always felt a secret kinship with Peter, who, like him, had always avoided detention at school and smarted shamefully under McGonagall's wrath. Neither he nor Peter had ever possessed the daring or the foolhardiness of James or Sirius; they were not the ones caught in McGongall's office, or out in the hallways after hours, or trying to get into the girls' dormitory. He and Peter were the ones who, as adults, looked for the path of compromise; they were the ones who advocated moderation in Order meetings; they were the ones who were secretly terrified of risk and exposure and death.
And now Peter was a hero. It filled Remus with pride to think about this. Remus had never looked favorably on James' or Sirius' brashness while at school, but since they had become involved in the war Remus had always wondered if, when the time came, he and Peter would have the courage to do the right thing, despite their caution and their fear and their prudent and selfish concern for their own skin. It embarrassed him now to realize that he had always suspected Peter did not have this courage, to stay when things were difficult, to take a stand, to risk everything including death. He had not given Peter enough credit.
And Sirius. The news was so incongruous with what he knew about Sirius that he could hardly process it. There was no explanation for recent events. The Prophet did not even try to offer one, though it insinuated subtly that Sirius was a Black, and blood would tell. Remus had flushed with anger when he read that. He simply could not believe that Sirius had done what the Prophet claimed he had done. His mind frantically rehearsed dozens of alternative scenarios, involving the Imperius curse, Polyjuice potion, memory modification--even some that did not involve magic or malice, like insanity. (He thought of Sirius’ dark-haired cousin and shuddered and pushed that possibility to the back of his mind.) There had to be some explanation. His mind hurt with the effort to think of it.
*
The possibility of magical deceit--Polyjuice? Imperius? But by whom?--was so appealing that he spent most of the afternoon making the long trip up to Notting Hill, where he pounded on the door of the flat until his fists hurt, convinced Sirius was there. No one emerged.
He had sunk to the floor and leaned back against the door, wondering what to do next, when Sirius' next-door neighborhood opened her door and peered out at him.
"What are you doing here? Why are you making all this noise?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought he managed to get rid of you."
Remus gritted his teeth. "Sorry to bother. I'm looking for him."
"He hasn't been here in days," she said. "I think he may be out of town." Then, almost slyly, she added: "I'm sure if he wanted you to find him he would have told you."
Even though this was not true, it hurt. Remus nodded his thanks and left. Not until he was back on the tube did he remember that the Imperius curse was fairly easy to detect, that Polyjuice potion needed to be taken regularly, and that anyone who had tried to impersonate or control Sirius Black would surely have been exposed by now.
*
He went to Mrs. Patil's flat for dinner, partly because he had not had the presence of mind to turn down the invitation and partly because a certain numbness was starting to set in and he longed for a familiar face and some comforting words, even if he couldn't fully explain his distress.
The Patils' flat was located in a tower block only a few blocks from the cafe, a short walk from the tube stop. As he passed the cafe he noticed it had been closed early. Mr. Patil would be home, then, along with Mrs. Patil and the twins.
He took the lift to the eleventh floor and had paused as he tried to remember whether the flat was to the left or the right when he heard Mrs. Patil's voice calling to him.
"What are you doing in the hallway?" she said, opening her door and gesturing frantically. "Hurry, come in, come in." She pulled him inside and shut the door.
"You've got to be careful," she said. "Dumbledore says you're not to linger outside."
"Dumbledore?" he said, amazed. "You know Dumbledore?"
"Of course. Everyone knows Dumbledore," she said, a sly grin grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"You're a witch," he said, suddenly remembering the stack of Prophets left behind the cafe.
"Effectively disguised, am I not?" Mrs. Patil smiled, a little pride evident in her eyes. "How long have we known each other now? Six months?"
Remus' head reeled. He sank down onto the couch and held it in his hands.
"I always thought your curries were a little too good," he joked weakly. "What do you really do?"
"Oh, Mr. Patil really cooks," Mrs. Patil said, nodding at her husband, who was seated on the sitting room floor with his twin daughters and a few toys. "The Muggle way, mostly. Apart from the samosas and some of the curries. A little magic improves those. He has a Muggle degree, but the cafe has been a better source of income. I'm a curse breaker. In India I did the work myself. Here I mostly do research on curses. Sometimes I do research for Dumbledore. Makes working in the cafe ever so much more interesting."
"Looking after you has been a part-time job these past few months," Mr. Patil added. "Hope you don't mind. We've kept you quite safe. We're earning a bit extra for a trip back home next winter. Don't want the girls to forget their roots." He held one of twin girls in the crook of his arm, bouncing her up and down on his knee.
His head spun. Dumbledore had arranged for someone to look after him? To protect him or to spy on him? He felt exposed and vulnerable. He thought about all the conversations he had had with Mrs. Patil over the past few months, about the times he had visited their flat for dinner, trying to remember if he had said anything incriminating. He didn't think he had, but it was hard to be certain.
The other twin had crawled into his lap, and he stroked her hair absently. It occurred to him that no one moved to take her away from him, and he relaxed slightly. They did not know everything about him.
"You saw the news in the Prophet this morning," Mrs. Patil said, stating a fact rather than asking a question.
Remus nodded.
"Right, then. I don't know how best to break this to you, but Dumbledore says you need to leave soon, for your own safety," Mrs. Patil said. "I know this is a bad way to learn this, but your disappearance six months ago caused a great deal of suspicion, and, given your friendship with Sirius Black, you may be in even more danger now than before."
"Pardon?" It had occurred to Remus when the werewolves threw their support behind Voldemort that his defeat might the beginning of his troubles rather than the end, but he had not really thought through what the events of the last few days might mean for him.
"Dumbledore is devastated by the news, as I'm sure you can imagine," Mrs. Patil said. "He was worried that you were involved, too, but I assured him that, apart from the newspapers, you've had absolutely no contact with the wizarding world since you've been here. Certainly no contact with this man Sirius Black. He's decided the best thing for you would be to accept an assignment overseas. Until things settle down, at least. If you still consider yourself a part of the Order and want to continue to help."
Remus sat, unmoving, unable to comprehend what Mrs. Patil had just said.
"Come here, Parvati," Mr. Patil said gently. "Mr. Lupin needs to leave on a trip very soon." He reached out and gathered her into his arms.
Remus relinquished the toddler. So Dumbledore believed what the Prophet said about Sirius. Dumbledore was worried about Remus’ association with him. Perhaps he knew something the Prophet had not covered. This alone was not enough to convince Remus of Sirius’ guilt--that would take years of adjustment and heartache and forgetting--but this was enough to strike fear into Remus’ heart. Fear for both Sirius and himself.
"We have the Portkey here," Mrs. Patil said, gesturing towards towards a discarded umbrella sitting on top of a small table. "We set it up this afternoon."
Remus looked from Mr. Patil and the twins back to Mrs. Patil. "Do I have other options?" he asked in a low voice.
Mrs. Patil looked at him with something akin to sympathy. "We always have options," she said. She glanced quickly at Mr. Patil, and he nodded at her. "If you left right now, we wouldn't say anything. You could trust us. You could leave, disappear into Muggle London, and no one would ever know. But you don't want to live as a Muggle forever, do you?" she asked.
Remus thought about the life he had begun in the past few months and about the life he wanted to return to. He thought about his course at university and the friends he had met and his job at the coop. Then he thought about his parents, whom he hadn't seen in years now, and the friends he had in the wizarding world, who were now mostly gone, and his bleak job prospects in a world that understood what a werewolf was. Remus shook his head mutely. No, even so, he didn't want to live as a Muggle. It surprised him to discover that he was a wizard even before he was a student or a son or a friend or a Dark Creature; he had never thought of himself this way.
After a moment Mrs. Patil spoke again.
"There will be someone waiting for you at the other end. To give you instructions on your next assignment and some gold," Mrs. Patil said. "Dumbledore's already made the arrangements. Your room and things here will be taken care of."
Of course Dumbledore would have already made the arrangements. Remus felt a surge of resentment. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked the others to do this; he wouldn't assume they would step aside the way he always needed to. Sirius would have turned and left and disappeared into Muggle London, or he would have railed against the unfairness of the situation, arguing and threatening and enlisting allies and doing everything he could to change the situation. Then again, he wasn’t Sirius, Remus thought with a sigh. He didn’t want to disappear into Muggle London, and he didn’t want to return to the wizarding world to argue his case, taking the chance that he might join Sirius and the other werewolves in Azkaban. He imagined what justice there was in the next few days would be all too swift.
Azkaban. If indeed Sirius made it to Azkaban. He seemed like a likely candidate for the Dementor's Kiss if Dumbledore believed in his guilt. Remus shied away from the thought. He felt a deep weariness settle into his bones.
"Would you deliver a message for me?" Remus asked. Mrs. Patil nodded. He pulled a pen and a scrap of paper out of his pocket and paused, wondering what he needed to write and who might need an apology and an explanation for his absence. If Sirius was killed, who else was there? Finally he jotted down Patrice’s address--although the Patils probably already know that, he thought--and a short note.
Then, thinking about Peter, he added the following final line, underlining it with a firm hand:
"If anyone comes asking for me, please tell them I'm away now but will come home as soon as I can."
He was not heroic, like Peter, and not a risk-taker, like Sirius, but he would live to fight another day.
He handed the scrap to Mrs. Patil.
"Good luck, Mr. Lupin. This isn't goodbye; I feel sure we'll see each other again one day," she added with a nod and a smile.
Remus reached out for the Portkey. At the last moment he realized he'd forgotten to ask where he was going, and he pulled his hand back.
"Where am I headed?" he asked, already feeling a little tired. "Did Dumbledore even tell you?"
"Albania," Mrs. Patil said.
Albania. A very old, very magical place, a world away from Muggle London. Remus smiled wryly. Not where he thought he would end up, but then again, by November 1981 no one was where they thought they would end up.
Remus reached out and grasped the Portkey firmly.
*
End of Epilogue, Part 2.
End of series.