He attended the funeral alone.

James and Lily's funeral was one of the worst days of his life, and that was including all of his werewolf transformations. Peter was dead. Sirius was in Azkaban. And so Remus attended the funeral alone.

He certainly wasn't the only one there. But in a sense he was alone. The rest of the Marauders were gone. Gone.

He couldn't bring himself to speak, couldn't bring himself to look at their bodies, which he guessed must have been peaceful in death, made to look like they were sleeping.

He could barely bring himself to the burial, and even then he stood in the back of the group, tears silently streaming down his face.

He attended the funeral alone.

He attended the funeral alone.

Peter's funeral was a much smaller affair. There was no body. Nothing to bury. But Wormtail didn't want much, anyways. Remus could bring himself to speak of Peter's bravery, but he left out all mention of Sirius. He couldn't think about Sirius.

And so, he attended the funeral alone.

He attended the funeral alone.

Peter was alive but a traitor. His life had just turned around- he had Sirius back, he had Harry, he had a purpose.

But Sirius had died.

And now he sat, alone, in the back of the room, because now he felt he really was the only one left. The only Marauder. No longer Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Just Moony. Moony alone.

He attended the funeral alone.

He attended the funeral alone.

Dumbledore's death brought something final. Dumbledore was the one who had let him back into Hogwarts again and again, to learn, to teach, to fight.

And he sat in the white chairs, watching, as the man was buried, peaceful in death as James and Lily must have been, as Peter would have been, as Sirius was.

But no.

He was not alone.

He had the woman sitting beside him, crying softly, silently, handkerchief in one hand and his hand in the other.

He had, as Dumbledore said, the most powerful force in the universe.


And so he didn't attend the funeral alone.