The letter was clutched on the boy’s scarred hand, as he stared blankly out the window. Comforting hands both patted his back sympathetically, and squeezed his arms, but he was unresponsive. Perhaps this was what being a Gryffindor meant; it was not about being invincible, but to pretend you were.

He did not think he could, and the thought alone frightened him.

“It’ll be okay, Remus,” Peter whispered, breaking the silence and sounding braver than he usually did.

“I know,” Lupin said after a while, but thinking that he in fact did not, and neither did Peter, James or Sirius.