Whispers of the Dove / R.L & S.B

🌼~°11°~🌼

<<<<Remus>>>>

The walls feel like they're closing in on me. Every corner of this castle, every shadowy hallway, holds memories tied to him. Sirius Black. He knows I'm here, and worse, he knows Harry Potter is attending Hogwarts. Why has he returned to this place, saturated with the weight of our shared past? A place that must remind him, as it does me, of betrayal—his betrayal.

He was James and Lily's Secret Keeper, the one entrusted with their very lives, and he betrayed them to Voldemort. He caused their deaths and then killed Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles in cold blood. Every piece of evidence points to Sirius's guilt. And yet... why can't I shake the lingering thought that he might be innocent? It's irrational, almost painful, but it's there.

To make things worse, Willow told me about her encounter with a large black dog. Then, a mysterious broomstick—a Nimbus 2000, no less—arrives for Harry, with no indication of who sent it. It must be Sirius, but why would he give Harry a gift? What does he want? Minerva has confiscated the broom until further notice, worried it may be cursed. And as for Willow, she's vanished today, leaving her classes canceled and students with a free period.

Needing to clear my head, I decided to take a walk around the castle grounds. The air was cold, crisp against my face as I wandered. Eventually, I spotted Harry standing on one of the bridges connecting two parts of the castle, gazing out at the snow-dusted grounds with a distant expression.

"Harry, what are you doing out here?" I asked, stepping closer.

He turned to face me, startled from his thoughts. "Oh, Professor Lupin. I'm just... thinking."

There was something about the way he looked at me—lost in thought, deep in a world of his own. It reminded me so much of James. James had a similar way of retreating into his mind when he thought no one was watching.

"You look so much like James," I said without thinking, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Harry tilted his head slightly. "Do I really?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "I don't know... I can't even clearly remember them—my parents."

His confession struck me deeply. Harry, this boy who should have been raised by his parents, surrounded by love and family, had instead been left alone, growing up without the people who cared about him most. It wasn't fair.

"I don't know if anyone's told you," I began gently, "but your father and I were great friends during our time at Hogwarts."

His eyes lit up at that, a flicker of excitement breaking through his usual guarded expression. "People always compare me to them," he said. "But how do I know they're right? I don't really have anything of theirs." He hesitated for a moment, then reached into his robes and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "Well, except for this. Professor Langley gave it to me. It's a letter my mum wrote... about one of my dad's Quidditch matches."

I took a closer look at the letter as he carefully unfolded it.

"She mentioned you," he said, his voice soft. "And Sirius Black." He paused, glancing at me. "Did you know Sirius Black is my godfather?"

Shock rippled through me. How could he know? For a moment, I was at a loss for words, struggling to find an answer.

But before I could speak, Harry changed the subject. "Professor Lupin, how did you and Professor Langley do that with the Dementors? That spell... it pushed them away. How do you fight those creatures?"

I exhaled, grateful for a question I could answer. "That's the Patronus Charm," I explained. "It's a very advanced spell, not one that's easy to master. It creates a protective force—one that takes on a shape that's meaningful to the caster."