You know I'm born to lose,
and gambling's for fools.
But that's the way I like it baby
I don't wanna live forever
That January, just over a year after his mother's funeral, Remus attended another memorial service - this time for Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.
They passed away within hours of each other in the final bleak days of December. Their loss was felt immensely, and not only by the members of the Order. The Potter mansion was full for weeks with visitors, mourners and old friends, and every one of them had a story of some kindness James's parents had performed.
"Euphemia always said I could ask her anything when I saw her at St Mungo's." Marlene sobbed, "She was such a brilliant healer, I wish I'd known her longer."
"They were so kind to us after we eloped," Andromeda said, holding Ted's hand and bouncing her daughter on her hip, "Checked in on us all the time, made sure we never struggled for anything... I just can't believe they're gone..."
"If our home is even half as welcoming as theirs, I'll be proud." Arthur Weasley added, cleaning his glasses, which had grown misty.
"The very best of wizard kind," Dumbledore intoned in the speech he gave at the service. "A beacon of understanding, tolerance, good humour and community - all those values we hold most dear."
"Sort of fitting to have them go at Christmas," one wizened old crone said at the wake, "Always loved coming to the Potters' boxing day party."
"I'll miss Effie's mince pies!" An old man added.
"I'll miss Monty's home brew!" Another cackled. A smatter of fond laughter, followed by tender silence as everyone recalled the Potters' limitless hospitality.
Remus kept his own memories of the Potters to himself, because he felt he had the least claim on them. Still, he would never forget that it was they who had taken him in when he'd found himself homeless at seventeen, and they who had helped him locate his mother.
In a way it was different from the earlier deaths in the Order, because the Potters had died at an advanced age, and they hadn't been murdered - so there was more room for happy memories.
It still didn't feel very fair. Time is meaningless, when it comes to the people you love, Remus reflected. Eleven months had not been enough time with Hope - and twenty years had probably not been enough for James.
Sirius, Peter and Remus silently made the decision to pull together for James. He had been the source of the marauders' strength ever since they were children; had selflessly defended or supported each of them at one time or another, and there was no question that they return the favour now, in his darkest hour.
They took up the task of greeting as many of the droppers-by as possible, and keeping them away from James, who had quite enough to deal with. For a solid two weeks, the three of them spent their days accepting bunches of flowers and pots of home cooking (which was useful, because Gully the house elf had been inconsolable, and spent his time curled up under the aga sobbing and drinking butterbeer). Lily handled everything financial or legal - Remus couldn't help but admire how quickly she took to wizard property law - while Alice and Molly helped her manage the house and pack up the things which needed to be packed up.
It was grimly fitting that 1980 began with death. Years later, it would mark a turning point in the war for Remus; as if losing the Potters had shaken the very foundations of reality. After their funeral less and less things began to make sense. Things he had once felt sure of became uncertain, and the - already small - circle of people he trusted and loved began to shrink further.
