Monday 2nd January 1978
The next week and a half was one of the darkest Remus could remember. When Mrs Potter finally arrived home the day after the attack, she was white and drawn, and hugged her family so tight, as if she had thought she would never see them again.
"About fifty dead, so I've heard." She said, solemnly. "I was mostly triage, though. Hundreds wounded."
"Any... any of us?" Mr Potter asked. He looked as though he hadn't slept in hours - and indeed, as far as Remus knew, he had not been to bed either.
Euphemia nodded, closing her eyes.
"Later." She said, casting a glance at the boys. James looked indignant.
"We can hear it." He said. "We're all of age, and we were there when it happened!"
"Yes, I know you were!" Mrs Potter shouted, her voice shrill. James's mouth snapped shut and he looked down, ashamed. Mrs Potter got up. "I'm going for a lie down."
She left the room, and the men sat in silence.
"Sorry, dad." James mumbled.
"It's all right." Fleamont removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're all upset. Your mother and I need you boys to listen, and do as you're told until it's time to go back to school, do you understand?"
They all nodded, reluctantly, and Remus saw the muscles in Sirius's jaw tighten. It was a mark of his respect for Mr Potter that he did not protest. "Now," Fleamont continued, "This house is going to be very busy for the next few days, and you're going to see a lot of very important people doing very important work. Do not ask too many questions, and do not make nuisances of yourselves."
"Can't we help?" James asked, earnestly.
"Yes." Fleamont nodded. "By being gracious hosts and minding your mother."
"Yes, dad." James sighed, looking down again, obviously disappointed.
"James..." Fleamont began, reaching over to touch his son's arm.
Remus and Sirius took that as their cue to clear the table, and waited around in the kitchen, half-heartedly helping Gully do the washing up.
"I don't see what the fuss is about." Sirius grumbled, elbow deep in soap suds. "If they knew half of the things we were capable of - we can actually help."
"We'll have our chance." Remus replied, staring out of the window as he dried the plates. The garden was very dark, and a chill mist hung in the air, making it difficult to see much beyond the patio wall. He could just make out James's quidditch hoops on the lawn, and the dim waning moon. He didn't like not being able to see very far, it made him uneasy.
"That's all right for you to say." Sirius was still complaining, "You've already proved yourself."
"What?!" Remus glanced up at him, confused, and momentarily distracted from the window.
"With that werewolf you met, last year. You've already faced the enemy and shown Dumbledore he can trust you."
"I don't think I explained that properly, if that's what you think..." Remus said. "Livia wasn't... it wasn't about the war."
"Dumbledore thinks it was. Moody does. They talk about the werewolves all the time - how useful you'll be trying to convince the dark creatures not to join you know who."
"Can we talk about something else?"
"Fine."
They talked about nothing. They did the dishes in complete silence. Remus stared out of the window into the blackness of the Potter grounds and looked for... something.
