Remus Lupin paced up and down the one-room cabin he had called home for the past few months.
He was returning to Hogwarts tomorrow and memories that he had long ago tried to forget were returning now with a vengeance.
Slowly he sat down at the battered desk in the corner, pulling a spare piece of parchment in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, then wrote 4 words on it, slowly and carefully.
He studied the words, swiping at the tears that suddenly welled up as he stared at the last name: Prongs.
So typical of James to have put himself last and yet he was always the first. The first to invent plots and the first to act on them. And after all, he had been the first to go too.
Remus felt the old familiar sorrow well up again at the thought of James. It was always a pure, unadulturated sorrow for James and Lily, whose lives had been so tragically cut short. He felt less sorrow at the thought of Peter, perhaps because Peter's death, at least, had had positive consequences, or at least positive in that the guilty one had been caught, although the idea of Sirius in Azkaban was one that had haunted Remus every day and night for the past 12 years... And perhaps Peter's death brought less sorrow because, Remus admitted to himself, he had never cared about Peter as much as he had cared about James and Sirius.
Sirius... Padfoot... the betrayer... For the millionth time, Remus wondered how he could have been so mistaken about Sirius. Until the very moment when he had heard about what Sirius had done, Remus would have sworn that Sirius would rather have died than cause harm to any of his friends, let alone to James, his best friend.
Remus stared at the 4 names again and then slowly, deliberately drew a line through Prongs and Wormtail. He paused, his quill trembling in his hand before drawing another line through Padfoot.
And that left only Moony, only himself. He was the last of the Marauders, left to mourn and to remember.