The Last Gryffindor (Sirius Black)

Final

"There is me, of course. And, er, you-know-who," Hermione said in hushed tones that could only mean Sirius Black. "Harry wanted to come, but Mrs Weasley put her foot down, so the only other person is an old teacher of mine. Mrs Weasley wasn't going to let me come, either, but with Remus chaperoning she relented. Besides, she couldn't actually stop me if I went over her head to get permission from my parents. Thank goodness it didn't come to that. I'm not altogether sure they would have said yes."

I didn't know half of the people she mentioned. Alas, I nodded anyway, continuing the trek towards the supposed meeting point. Above us, the sky threatened rain. If I had been the superstitious sort, I might take that as a sign of things to come, but I rather liked rain. I enjoyed the rhythmically numbing sound, and the way thick air weighed down my breath. I hoped these clouds would grow heavy and sweep everything away, leaving only a fresh slate behind.

I could use a new beginning.

We crested the top of the hill with varying degrees of ease, or, in Maellie's case, complaint. Only a single man awaited us there, clothed in a well used chestnut coat of Muggle make, his back turned, but it wasn't Sirius Black, who's face I memorized in countless wanted posters and inflammatory newspaper headlines. Beside him, inexplicably, was a shaggy black dog. If I wasn't very mistaken, I had walked in on the man talking seriously with the dark-furred hound, which I supposed wasn't all that strange. I knew people who talked to their cats and owls, so this wasn't too different.

"You must be the teacher," I said, not bothering to conceal my annoyance. Where was the man I actually crossed the English Channel to see?

"And you must be Caius. Hermione has told us quite a bit about you." He turned his head to look back at us, a careful perusal starting at my shoes and stopping when he dragged his moss-green eyes to up catch mine. He held firm on my gaze from across the clearing, even as he shifted the rest of his body to face me head on, his attention almost preternatural. I shivered. "I'm Remus Lupin, though my brief foray into teaching is over. Nice to meet you."

"I didn't come here to talk to you," I said, and finally, with effort, lowered my gaze, choosing instead to watch the dog. "No offense."

"None taken," Lupin replied easily. "We decided it would be best for me to meet you first. To clear the air about a couple of things."

My frown deepened. "What things?"

"I've already cleared one." A thick pause stretched the silence taut. "You have your mother's eyes."

Quickly, I looked back up, surveying him just as thoroughly as he was surveying me. "I... do? You knew her?"

Something in his countenance seemed to loosen, a small smile tugging at one side of his mouth. "Yes. I knew her," he said in almost a whisper. He edged closer, running a hand through the overgrown brush. His steps were slow, as if I were a flighty deer he feared might flee under too much stimulation. "I knew her better than most, for what it's worth. Which isn't very much. Lia kept many secrets, you see. I'm sure you understand, given that you are her greatest."

"I don't. Understand, I mean."

"Don't you? No one knew you existed until Hermione stitched your identity together from scraps. You were both wise to keep the information quiet, I'm afraid. I don't condone what Lia did, keeping you from us, but I can see why she did it. Voldemort wouldn't have stopped until he had you either dead or crafted in his own image."

All of a sudden, words that had plagued me for weeks clicked into place like a stray puzzle piece that I hadn't been able to find a place for.