The Train Scene, from My Point Of View

Remus stumbles as he Apparates outside the station; the twisting sensation it caused in the pit of his stomach was doing nothing to comfort how weak and dizzy he already is. He regains his composure, brushes his shabby clothing, and strolls into King’s Cross.
The train station is exactly as he remembers it, for he barely glances around as he makes his way through the station towards the platform. It’s not that he wouldn’t love to stop and take in the sight of one of his favorite places on Earth. No, the fact was, plain and simple, Remus is tired. His recent transformation, without the aid of Wolfsbane, had taken its toll on him in the worst way. His eyes are bloodshot, and his bones still ache from the stretching and the morphing they endured during the change.
He reaches the barrier, the one that separates him from the train that separates him from the train that will take him Hogwarts, the one place he considers home. Sure, he does own a small flat, but it never gives him the same welcome and comforting feeling that Hogwarts does. Remus has to remind himself for the fifty-seventh time that day that he was going as a teacher, not a student. He figures he’s still in shock from the letter that had only arrived three months previously. Hastily, he glances around at the passersby, then, choosing the right moment, he turns towards the barrier and, in one swift step, passes through it.
As expected, Platform 9 ¾ is also unchanged, if not emptier than he’d ever seen it. Remus looks down at his watch, which has recently acquired several new scratches on its face. It was 10:32. This explained the near empty platform; most people arrived ten minutes before the train left. He allowed himself a moment to reminisce about his school days: meeting up with James and the rest here, the relaxed conversations they’d have in their compartment, and how Sirius would sometimes-
Remus’ entire body suddenly fills with several emotions at once: anger, remorse, betrayal, longing, and pain. He immediately cuts off his train of thought. No. He mustn’t think of that man. Sirius was- Remus bites his lip- Sirius is a traitor, a murderer, a Death Eater. He was no longer his mate, or his friend, or even his-… even his lover. Remus mentally scolds himself for allowing him to remember the relationship he had long since trained himself to block from his mind. No! Sirius Black is evil, a dangerous fugitive with ambitions to murder the man he betrayed’s son. No matter what his past with Sirius was, he could not allow himself to harbor any sympathy for the man.
But deep inside, though Remus would never admit it, Remus still loves Sirius, even though he’s betrayed his best friends, the people who would die for him. Even though he had gone over to the Dark Side. Even though he murdered Peter and innocent people along with him. It was unconditional love, and not even the knowledge that Sirius had caused the death of one of his best mates could shake it.
Remus shook himself, then boarded the train, making his way towards the back, which he knew would be quieter when the train took off.
It’s not that Remus couldn’t just Apparate to Hogsmede and walk up to the caste, though it wouldn’t be advisable in his current state. Remus just loves the train; he loves feeling it speed along as it passes though the countryside, and also the memories. Mostly painful memories, but some good ones too. Memories of when his condition was treated like a joke, some secret to whisper and snicker about with his friends. Remus misses these times. He misses his friends.
He misses being a Marauder. He hasn’t had anyone as close as they were since then. He’s had acquaintances, sure, usually from one of the many jobs he’s held, but never someone as close as a Marauder. A Marauder would laugh with you when you were happy, comfort you when you were upset, pick you up when you fell, help you when you needed help, defend you when your name was slandered. They were a band of brothers- though some less brotherly than others- and they were the four best friends that anybody could have.
Still lost in his melancholy thoughts, Remus enters a compartment, stows his trunk, and settles himself into an uneasy sleep.
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He dreams of Sirius, like most nights, and he hates himself for it.
His former boyfriend flickers in and out of Remus’ mind, sometimes in his arms, sometimes branded with the Dark Mark. Remus can feel his brain fighting, trying to rid his mind of the traitor’s face. Remus is screaming, torn between wanting to embrace Sirius or hurt him-
Remus is awoken by the sound of stirring feet and anxious voices. Head pounding and still upset from the dream, Remus hisses a little more menacingly than he means to, “Quiet!” The voices stop. There are several things Remus can tell without the lights, namely that the lights were out and the train had stopped, though, from the view outside, nowhere near Hogwarts. He conjures some fire into his hand, and surveys the students around him. Judging by their height and the scared looks on their faces, he concludes that most if not all of them are third years. There were two red-headed children, a boy and a girl who are obviously Weasleys. There is also a plump dark-haired boy, a smart looking bushy haired girl, and a scrawny boy with jet black hair.
The sight of this boy jerks something in the back of Remus’ mind, but at the moment he doesn’t have time to let it sink in. He needs to reach the front of the train to find out why the train had been stopped. “Stay where you are,” he announces to the compartment as he slowly gets up. But, before he can reach the other side, something else opens the door.
A dementor.
Remus doesn’t react immediately. His brain is too busy doing two things; Firstly, fighting the cold that was now enveloping him, making him weaker then he already was, and secondly, realizing why the train had stopped: The dementors are searching the train for Sirius. Of course. The thought doesn’t cheer him up, it only serves to increase the cold that was already sinking in, knowing that someone he used to love was now a wanted criminal.
By the time he fights his way through the mental fog, the scrawny boy had fallen to the floor. Remus walks over him, takes out his wand, and says, “None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.” But the Azkeban guard is persistent, and did not move. So, resorting to his last measures, Remus musters up a strong memory (laughing with his friends) and whispers, “Expecto Patronum”. Instantly, his patronus, a tawny dog, shoots out of his wand and the dementor glides away, warming up the room considerably.
The entire compartment is still for two or so seconds, in which the lights flicker back to life along most of the train except for the few compartments behind them the dementors evidentially hadn’t searched yet. After a few more moments, the entire train was fully lit again, and the train slowly began to steam along. In this instant, everyone on the train suddenly remembers the boy on the floor, who appears to have passed out. There was a sudden rush to try and revive the boy, in which Remus takes the time to take his chocolate out of his trunk and examine the boy.
He’s scrawny, small for his age, with dark black hair, round glasses, and when the boy came around, Remus could see he had brilliant green eyes. The sight of those eyes startles Remus. He recognizes those eyes. Those were Lily’s eyes. Lily Evan’s- No, Potter’s eyes. And after this realization, the thought that had come to him before the dementor had arrived came back: The boy was the spitting image of who he now realized what his father, James. This boy was Harry. Harry Potter. The last time Remus had seen him, Harry had been only a small baby, nestled in his mother’s arms. And, with this newfound knowledge, his eyes slide up to the boy’s forehead, where, as he knew it would, lay the scar the boy had gained the night both Harry’s and Remus’ life had changed.
The kids are involved in a hushed conversation, and Remus startles them when he begins to split the wedge of chocolate he is holding. He sees how pale and frightened Harry is, and hands him a larger piece than he was planning to give the others. “Here. Eat this,” He advises the boy, “It’ll help.”
Obviously, the boy doesn’t trust him, because instead of eating, he asks Remus, “What was that thing?”
“A dementor. One of the dementors of Azkeban.” He pauses to put away his trash, ignoring all the eyes gawking at him. “Eat,” he says again, noticing that Harry is still pale and holding his chocolate, “It’ll help.” Remus then decides he needs to inform the school about Harry’s condition. “I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…” And with that, he strolled out of the booth, and towards the train’s engine.
His conversation with the engineer is short and awkward. The man is rather short and gruff, and Remus now knows why he had never seen the man before; he isn’t too friendly.
“Excuse me, but, how long until we reach the castle?”
“’Bout ten minutes, give ‘er take.”
“Thank you. Also, could you be so kind as to lend me your owl?”
“’Suppose so… Long as yer not sendin’ anything too far, a’course.”
“Thank you,” Remus replies, taking out a spare quill and a bit of parchment. He takes a moment to decide who to address it to, then quickly scribbles:
Dear Pr. McGonagall,
While onboard the Hogwarts Express, Harry fainted from the effects of one of the dementors who searched the train. It is my recommendation that he be taken up to the hospital wing when he arrives.
-RJL
Remus John Lupin
Remus folds the note, taking care to allow the ink enough time to dry, then sends it off with the official-looking school-owned owl. Remus thanks the conductor again, then makes his way back to the compartment, bumping into several fifth years on the way. When he comes back, he is slightly amused to find that none of the students have dared to eat his chocolate. “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know.” They all start to eat, and Remus informs them, “We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all right, Harry?”
The small boy mutters, “Fine.” Remus can tell he is highly embarrassed by his fainting spell, so Remus doesn’t pursue the subject further. Instead, he sat back down, leaned his head against the cold window, and mused over the night’s events in his mind for the rest of the ride.