All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Sixth Year : The Long Night

Sirius was still on edge through dinner, sneaking glances at Moony from across the table as James tried to get Lily’s attention by balancing a spoon on his nose. Remus was chatting quietly with Marlene about their Care of Magical Creatures homework, looking completely at ease, a far cry from the frantic desperation of the previous night. Sirius studied him, searching for any sign of cracks, and only glanced away when Moony looked up and shot him up bemused smile.

Things seemed normal as they trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, normal as they got ready for bed, normal as Remus bid them goodnight and shut his curtains. Sirius wondered if James had been right, if simply being there was enough. Perhaps he really had blown things out of proportion, worrying himself silly over nothing. After all, Moony had at least agreed not to run off alone, hadn’t he?

So he lay in bed, listening for the familiar sounds of Remus tossing and turning. But there was nothing—only silence, and eventually Sirius drifted off to sleep.

He slept poorly, dreams fragmented with nightmarish nonsense—feelings and images pulled from the depths of his subconscious mind, overlaid by the unrelenting feeling of being followed. Sirius was running, glancing frantically back over his shoulder, when a loud bang suddenly yanked him back into consciousness.

“REMUS LUPIN!”

Professor McGonagall’s shrill voice shocked him from sleep; Sirius sat bolt upright, ripping his curtains back. McGonagall, clad in her nightgown and dressing robe, was marching straight for Moony’s bed, lit wand brandished like a torch.

“Professor??” James’s stunned voice came from across the room; both he and Peter had poked their heads out from behind their curtains, as well. The three boys watched in thunderstruck silence as their teacher stormed across the stone floor.

She ripped the curtains of Remus’s bed back, and Sirius felt his heart turn to stone in his chest.

Remus was gone.

His bed lay empty, pillows rumpled, sheets snarled from where he’d kicked them off.

No, Sirius thought, frozen, He wouldn’t…

McGonagall stared down, lips pressed together in a thin line. She looked furious—and terrified. After a moment, she spun on her heel, and began to march back out of the room.

“Wh—professor?!” James scrambled out of bed, calling after her, “Professor, wait—what’s going on? Where’s Remus??”

Sirius continued to stare, blankly, at the abandoned mattress. He wouldn’t do that. He said we’d go together—he’s supposed to let me help him.

McGonagall paused in the doorway, harried and tense.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but I’m afraid there isn’t time to explain.”

“Did something happen?”

“Is Remus okay?”

Now Peter was crawling out of bed, as well, staring anxiously up at the Transfiguration teacher as he asked his question.

He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that…

“I’m sorry, boys, but there simply isn’t—”