Farewell To A Lady

Disclaimer: All characters from Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, AOLTimeWarner and various corporate entities. This story is done without permission and is so not-for-profit it doesn't even rate nonprofit status because that would assume income. Moira belongs to me and probably isn't worth stealing or suing over.

Setting: 9 April, 2002, London

Author's Note: The fact that Remus Lupin appears in this story, alive and well, and if you follow JKR's timeline this is after Year Seven, does not mean I think that he's going to live or that I'll even let him live in other fan fic. He just happened to be the person who leapt to mind here so I used him. If the timeline is bent to do that, that's why it's called fan fiction.

The order to which Moira belongs is made up whole cloth. Sorry if anything like it really exists. And my apologies if this isn't exactly the right text for "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer" but it's the only one I have.

Dedication: In memoriam, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, 1900-2002.

****

Remus Lupin tried to peer over the heads of the quiet crowd, straining like everyone else for a glimpse of Westminster Abbey and the guards outside, resplendent in their uniforms but as sombre as the public gathered around. Earlier he'd managed to catch a glimpse of the flag-draped coffin with the crown atop it as it was carried into the Abbey, and a fleeting look at the royal family. He could, almost, hear the words being broadcast from within over a loudspeaker so that the growing crowds could follow the services proceeding within. He hadn't managed to secure a programme, and he was too far back to catch every word, but he could occasionally catch the strain of a hymn or the rumble of the congregation's "Amen."

It was strange how today he couldn't pick out the wizarding folk from the Muggles in the crowds pressing as close to Westminster as the police allowed. Not that any would really want to stand near him, anyway, but still, he hadn't noticed any of the unusual clothes that set wizards apart from Muggles on a normal day. Possibly they would be more noticeable along the cortege route, especially when it would pass near the Ministry itself, but out here, it was impossible to tell one from the other.

Almost. There was a white pigeon, looking like any ordinary London pigeon, regarding him with far too intent a stare than any wild bird had a right to. "Pidge, if you're supposed to be undercover at least try to act like a bird."

The pigeon huffed in annoyance and was abruptly replaced by a dark-haired witch with a streak of white in her hair. She was dressed in dark blue formal robes, which were cut as close to uniform lines as robes could be, and they were accented with several decorations. "What do you know about acting like a bird, Moony?" Moira Lemure asked, a trace offended. "Not like anyone's noticing. Not today," and she nodded towards the Abbey.

He nodded. "They have the Aurors on patrol, then?"

She shrugged, casting a professional eye over the crowd. "The Minister wanted to make sure that everyone behaved themselves, so all of us are out in force, between here and Windsor-as if we wouldn't have come anyway. Hogwarts even has the day free, so there's extra help from the professors who came down. Even Sirius is running around somewhere, and you know how he feels about the Ministry."

"That's the truth." If there were anyone besides Moira who'd gotten to hear just exactly what Sirius's feelings about the Ministry were, it was Remus. The fact that Moira had gone back to her old job after . . . well, after, had been no source of complaint for a time. "Still, not really the time for that, is it?"

"No, it isn't," and he was startled at the real sorrow in her voice. Her hazel eyes were red-rimmed, he noticed, and even now she looked as if only professional stoicism was keeping the tears back. "I thought the lady would live forever-almost like one of us, you know?"

"More than a hundred years, and still independent until the end," Remus agreed. "Some of us should live so long and so well." For the first time he looked a bit more closely at the decorations on Moira's robes. "I didn't know you were Right Royal Order of the Unicorn," he commented, noticing the insignia of a very old, very prestigious wizarding order, named for the magical creature in the royal coat of arms.

She glanced down at the silver chain with a twisted smile. "More because I'm Aleron Lemure's granddaughter than any other reason, I think. But I thought that if I were ever going to drag it out and wear it, today was the day." It was clipped beneath the jewelled pin of the Order of Merlin, first class. Remus had one of those as well, but hadn't thought to wear it today. Now he regretted the decision-it seemed the least he could have done. She also, he noted, wore a silver crescent moon medallion that he didn't recognize. Probably, he suspected, from her grandmother's side. "After all," Moira continued, "I ought to do something. Just being here didn't seem like enough-it's my job, I'd have to be."

"I know what you mean," he said, listening with half an ear to the service. The head of the Church of Scotland was speaking now. "Have there been any problems? I mean, we usually don't mingle so openly."

Moira shook her head. "Oddly, there isn't. No unauthorized levitating, no Muggle-baiting, no broomsticks in the open, nothing. And everyone seems to have dressed for the occasion-even old Mundugus seems to have dug up a suit somewhere."

"It feels like the end of an era, for all of us," Remus said, unconsciously slipping into his teaching mode. "Can you imagine everything she's seen? Queen Victoria to Queen Elizabeth II. World wars, the rise and fall of the Soviet Union. So much history, so much life. For a wizard, that's a bit unusual, but for a Muggle . . . ."

"And fifty years a widow," Moira said, a bit morosely. "I wouldn't want . . . . that's too long." She paused a moment, but Remus didn't press her. They'd all lost too many people of late to think too hard about losing others. It was all still too close. "And always a lady. That's what I remember."

"I have to wonder, though," Remus admitted, lowering his voice further, though the Muggles nearby weren't paying them much attention. "Why are we here? After everything we just went through, why are we not only showing up but behaving ourselves around Muggles? You have to admit, that's not normal wizarding behavior."

"Was that a rhetorical question, Professor?" She fingered the silver chain of her Order. "I remember seeing my grandfather putting on his decorations once, and I asked him why we bothered with Muggle royalty. After all, I told him, as know-it-all as only an eight-year-old can be," she chuckled at the memory, "we were special, and brave, and had powers that Muggles didn't even understand, so why did wearing a crown make any of them special to us? He could've given me a history back to Merlin, but instead he sat me down and told me about how he worked for the Ministry in London during the Blitz, and how the Queen stayed, even when she could have gone away to somewhere safe. He told about how she and the King always upheld the dignity of the monarchy, even though they hadn't wanted to rule in the first place. Duty, he explained to me, duty and dignity, and those had nothing to do with being a wizard or a Muggle. Just with being British." She laughed again, self-depreciating. "Needless to say I never asked again, but until today I never realized how much I took it to heart."

Remus nodded. "I don't think anyone realized how much we all took her to heart," he admitted. "I don't even know why I came down here. I just woke up knowing I'd go."

"Maybe it's the professor in you," she teased. "Couldn't miss the history."

"Maybe. Hard to resist the end of an era," he said. "But I don't think that's all of it."

She smiled, in that oddly knowing way she had sometimes. (The way that drove Sirius up a wall, or so he'd told Remus. Repeatedly.) "No, it doesn't seem to be." Over the loudspeakers, the organ in the Abbey was playing the opening of a hymn. She listened a moment and said, "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer. I've always liked that one. Today I almost wish I could change into a form small enough they wouldn't notice inside. I suppose I could try a sparrow, but I suppose that would be shirking duty. Not at all appropriate to the day. Speaking of which," and she sighed, "I really ought to get back to work. No telling how long the uncharacteristic good behaviour will last."

"With Padfoot running around? I give it an hour, tops. I still can't believe you let him off his leash," he teased. "Whatever havoc he wreaks is on your head."

"Leash?" and she raised an eyebrow. "And you're supposed to be the decent, upstanding Marauder." She grinned at the blush that coloured his pale features as he realised just how one could interpret that. "Dignity, Moony, dignity."

"You've been around Sirius far too long," he said, but by then she had transformed and probably missed it. This time she chose a common raven, and for a moment he envied the variety available to her as an Avimage. Then he turned his attention back to the service, where the hymn was starting. He wasn't much for going to church and didn't know the words, but a woman beside him (a Muggle, though he didn't think about that until much later) who had secured a programme held it so he could see it. He sang along, even if he wasn't sure that after all he'd seen he believed the words, out of respect for the great lady :

Guide me, O Thou great Redeemer,

Pilgrim through this barren land.

I am weak but Thou art mighty,

hold me with Thy powerful hand.

Bread of heaven, bread of heaven,

feed me now and evermore,

feed me now and evermore.

Open now the crystal fountain

whence the healing streams do flow;

let the fiery cloudy pillar

Lead me all the journey through;

Strong Deliverer, Strong Deliverer,

Be Thou still my strength and shield,

be Thou still my strength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,

bid Thee all my fears subside,

Death of death and hell's destruction

Land me safe on Canaan's side.

Songs of praises, songs of praises,

I will ever give to Thee;

I will ever give to Thee.