2.
A Messy Room's Memories

     THE peace of the morning is disturbed first by the thud of something heavy falling on the floor, and then the angered growl of a stressed werewolf the day before a full moon.

Elio pays it little mind. Remus has been trying to pack since Dumbledore visited and he was pressured into taking up a teaching position in a school he's been avoiding like the plague. The headmaster had shown up a week ago, with no warning, to ask if Remus would reach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus had, naturally, turned it down. Dumbledore had finished his cup of tea, said he understood, and left. Only to return the next day, after a night of Remus and Elio arguing, to ask again. This time, Remus said yes.

The only issue is Remus has done an exceptionally good job at stowing away all his valuables. In a desperate attempt to avoid thinking about them, he'd packed away all the relics of his old life in favour of the new one. He's spent the last of this week trying to recover them, so he can be prepared for school.

"Has it been like this all morning?" Narcissa asks as she turns to Elio, her concerned expression mirrored on her son. They'd arrived, much like every year, to have breakfast and head to the Hogwarts Express together. Lucius, like most years, is already at work. Once the excuse of it being an important first year for Draco — and Elio, a few years prior — passed, ministry and lordly responsibilities took an unfortunate priority.

Her question catches Elio in the middle of shovelling as much scrambled eggs into his mouth as he can in one go. For a few seconds, there's far too much food in his mouth to respond. But, with some effort, he manages to answer her, "It's been like this all week."

"Manners, Elio." Narcissa scolds, noticing he hasn't finished his mouthful, with the air of someone who has repeated that phrase far too many times.

"Sorry, Cissy." Elio's mouth is still full of food when he apologises, much to the exasperation of the older woman.

"Is he that stressed about being a teacher?" The attention on Elio fortunately doesn't last long as Draco pipes up from his seat across from his mother. He's been picking at his toast, dangerously close to getting a scolding for playing with his food. "He can't be any worse than last year. Lockhart was awful."

"It's a shame what happened to Mr. Lockhart, nonetheless." Narcissa says without any commitment, likely wanting to remind both boys that no matter the incompetency of the teacher, they both had to still be polite. It had been a chore putting up with Lockhart. Too many times, classes had ended in chaos. What happened to him was karma, though Elio would never verbalise that.

There's another crash and a groan.

"Is he alright?" Draco asks, peering over his shoulder again. There's nothing to see, as Remus is still locked away in his room, but the blond's gaze remains focused on the door until the sounds of frustration pass.

"I'll go see." Elio offers, knowing of the three he's the least likely to have his head bit off. The risk is still high, even for him, but Remus is more likely to feel worse about snapping at a guest than his son.

The second he placed his plate down, clearly finished, it vanishes. He plucks a glass of orange juice off the table, downs it in a few gulps, and then it too vanishes. Breakfast finished, he has no choice but to leave the Malfoys to their own, in favour of finding out what is wrong with his father.

As he leaves, he hears Narcissa say to Draco, "Stop playing with your food."

Remus's room shifts between a mess and impeccable neatness depending on whether he's allowed Kreacher into his room. Today, the room is a clutter, full of memories of a life he's tried to forget. A few small chests are placed through his bedroom, opened, contents strewn throughout the place. Papers, trinkets, clothing — the worst clothing Elio has seen in his life. Remus stands at his bed, trying to shove a few more sweaters into a swelling pile inside the suitcase.

"You could fix that with magic." Elio comments, hovering by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. His sudden entrance causes the older man to jump and lose his grip on the suitcase. Gravity and an unsteady bed does the rest, sending it toppling. Several curses are muffled by a growl, likely for Elio's benefit.

"I've tried." Remus sighs as he picks the bag back up. He slams it on the bed with more force than necessary, sweaters escaping their confines.

"Some wizard you are. Are you sure you should be teaching?" It's dangerous territory teasing Remus right before a full moon, but the words slip past Elio's lips before he can even help himself. The older man looks at him with an exasperated expression, which is better than looking like he wants to murder him.

"You know how my magic gets." Remus explains and Elio does. With emotions, his magic tends to get rather volatile. Sometimes it barely works, other times it works too much. Better to be safe and go muggle for a week rather than risk another explosion. "Besides, it's a muggle suitcase. It's not built for magic."

"Do you need help?" His father is quick to shake his head, brushing off the offer. Elio had expected as much and, as such, he doesn't put up much fight. Instead, he hangs around the door, looking at the mess of the room. In his scan of the bedroom, the drawers right by the door catch his attention; resting on the top is a photo of a toddler and a baby being held by two quidditch players. Elio has seen enough baby photos to know the toddler is him, though he doesn't recognise the small child. He picks it up, examining it, but finds little to identify the people.

Underneath it is a letter that finally answers all his questions:

Moony,

James and I took Elio and Harry to that Puddlemere match we'd been talking about today. My own son betrayed me by cheering when Puddlemere won. I'm not certain he knew why he was cheering and he was only excited because James was excited, but it was enough for James. The smug bastard hasn't let it go all afternoon. If Elio hadn't been so adorable, I might've disowned him right then and there. Let James take his little Puddle.

I know you're recovering from the full moon, so I thought I'd give you an update. I don't know why you didn't let us keep you company. I hope Wormtail was there, at least. I don't like when you go through it alone. You always end up hurting yourself.

I've included a photo of Elio and Harry with the two Puddlemere Chasers. I don't know how James managed that, but he did.

Padfoot.

The letter shakes in Elio's hand as the importance of what he's stumbled upon washes over him in waves. Remus's past has been a tender point, one rarely touched on beyond necessity. As a result, so has the topic of Elio's father. His questions are usually answered and he knows the public knowledge, but he barely knows his father. He can't even remember the man. He remembers music, a smiling face, laughter, brief flashes of memories that are more emotions than images. Nor does he know his mother who, as far as he can tell, was not evil, though she did meet a sudden and brutal end that makes her just as sensitive to Remus.

There's no point drawing attention to this goldmine of history. Remus would just take them away before Elio can read more. Especially so close to the full moon, when Remus is just as likely to burn them if he realises they exist. Instead, when his father isn't looking, Elio stuffs the letter and photo into his pocket. When Remus doesn't react, he grabs more and fills his pockets with the letters. More are shoved down his shirt, taking as many as he can before he gets caught.

"Bye, Dad. Love you, Dad. Don't blow up the house." Elio says quickly as he makes his getaway, rushing back to his bedroom as inconspicuously as he can manage. Once he's reached his own room, which is only a few doors down, he spreads his plunder out across his bed. He picks out another photo from the top: this one is of who he assumes is a younger Elio laughing with a man he knows isn't his father. He can only identify the other man as James Potter because he can see Harry Potter in him. The two of them look as though they'd been told to pose nicely for the camera, but were incapable of holding it together for a few, short seconds.

"Elio!" Draco's voice calls out from down the corridor. Desperate not to lose his newfound treasure, the boy quickly removes and throws his dressing gown over the top of them. When Draco comes around the corner, he's in the middle of pretending to remove his shirt for the sake of his cover story. The younger boy doesn't seem to notice anything strange as he continues, "Mother wants to go soon."

"I'll be ready once I get changed. I'm just not sure about Dad." Elio responds, pulling his shirt back down.

"I'm ready!" Remus yells from nearby, overhearing them. A miracle must have occurred in the room for his issues to have suddenly righted the moves in such a small period of time — or, more likely, he's resorted to magic or surrender. Given the house is still in one piece, Elio assumes the latter.

Draco leaves Elio to get changed properly. Now alone, the boy moves all the letters and loose photos into his suitcase, shoving them on top of his clothes. As much as he wants to read them all now, he's better off saving them for when he can read in privacy, with as much time as he needs. Then, he actually gets dressed. He grabs the first set of robes from his wardrobe, not putting as much thought as he'd like into his clothing choices.

Soon, everyone is ready to leave for another year of Hogwarts, though whether or not they want the break to end is another story.

*

Harry is beginning to suspect they're not going to find an empty compartment on the train. They've almost reached the end of the carriage and every single one has had other students in them, likely because they got on the train late. He'd wanted to speak to his friends in private, to tell them what he'd learnt, but he might have to compromise with a less populated compartment.

Reaching the end, the trio is faced with a single compartment that, while not empty, only contains two people sleeping. One is already dressed in his uniform, an older student, and the other is an older man in a comfortable but clearly old set of wizards clothes. The boy — who Harry recognises as one of the Slytherin chasers, Elio Black — is well kept in his appearance, even while sleeping. In contrast, the strange man looks sick, dishevelled, and quite out of place.

With one of them being a Slytherin, Harry might have considered going back down the carriage for a different compartment. But the presence of an adult, sleeping or not, brings a sense of protection from any trouble a Slytherin might cause. Besides, he's not too concerned about Black. On the pitch, he's one of the fairer Slytherins. And if a Slytherin can gain the neutral approval of Oliver Wood, he mustn't be as horrid as some of the others.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron asks as they settle into the carriage. They all keep to the other side of the compartment, leaving as much space between themselves and the others as they can manage.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." Hermione answers simply.

"How do you know that?" In response, Hermione points to the trunk above him, which has his name engraved on a neat gold plaque. The trunk is incredibly high quality, looking rather expensive in comparison to his appearance. "I wonder what he teaches."

"Isn't that obvious? He must be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Oh, right." With that mystery solved, Ron turns to Harry with a curious look on his face. "Anyway, what'd you want to tell us?"

Harry glances at their sleeping company, reassuring himself that they really are asleep, before he informs his friends of the information he has recently received, "Mr. Weasley told me not to go looking for Sirius Black."

"Why would you go looking for him?"

"I don't know — that's what I said — but he's looking for me. Apparently Black thinks killing me will bring back Voldemort." The Slytherin boy lets out a sudden noise that sounds like a snort but, given he appears to still be asleep, it must have been a snore. Nevertheless, all three Gryffindors watch him for a few seconds before they continue their conversation. "Before he escaped, he was muttering, 'He's at Hogwarts'."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cries sympathetically as her hands raise to her mouth. "We'll have to be really careful this year. I'm sure they'll catch him but, until then, you can't go looking for trouble."

Before Harry can point out it's rarely him looking for trouble, the door of the compartment slides open and highlights how often trouble looks for him: Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, are standing there, looking rather smug.

"Potty, Weaselbee..." Draco trails off before he can say whatever undoubtedly witty comment he had waiting on the tip of his tongue when he notices the other two people keeping them company. "Oh. Hello, Elio."

Harry looks over to find the Slytherin boy now staring blearily at Malfoy. He raises his hand in greeting before his eyes fall shut again. When Harry looks back at Malfoy, the sneer has dropped from his face and has been replaced with a rather polite mask. It looks unnatural on his pointy face.

"I'll see you in class." The boy spits with as much coldness as possible for those words, before he leaves them alone. When Harry glances at Elio again, the boy seems fast asleep.

"He's... y'know, isn't he?" Ron asks once Draco has left, nodding his head towards the Slytherin boy. Harry shakes his head because he isn't even quite sure what 'y'know' means. His friend leans forward, forcing Hermione to do the same, as he hisses, "Black's son."

"He might hear you," warns Hermione. "Besides, obviously he wouldn't have been raised by him."

"I know, but it's still something to think about." Harry doesn't really want to think about the fact he might be sitting right next to the son of a mass murderer, one who apparently has his sights set on him. He shuffles a little closer to the door, just to be safe.

The ride continues without interruption, the sky outside growing darker as they grew closer to Hogwarts. Not once do Lupin or Elio stir, except for some quiet shuffling that results in the younger resting his feet on the professor's knees. Every so often, Harry wonders if Elio is even asleep. The worry he might not be leads to the conversation of Sirius Black not being continued.

Then, without any explanation, the train begins to stop. As Hermione informs them all, they can't be there yet, so the sudden stop must be for some other reason. Harry thinks maybe they've broken down. Muggle trains do that sometimes, so it doesn't seem out of the ordinary for a magic train to do the same.

"I think there's someone outside." Ron comments, leaning over Lupin to peer out the window. Lupin seems entirely unfazed by these events, still asleep, but Elio has woken again. His head pressed against the window, he seems to be watching whatever Ron has seen, though with far less panic. "I think someone is coming on board."

Then the lights go out.

Elio has his wand drawn the second the compartment goes dark. He'd been napping, trying to make the trip go by faster, but the sudden interruption drew him from the drowsiness and into full alertness. He's pretty sure his father has also awoken, but it's hard to tell in the darkness.

The other three students are whispering amongst themselves, clearly frightened — some more so than others. Harry Potter is a strange one, barely concerned a murderer might be after him, barely concerned the train has stopped and someone has boarded right as they lost light. As Elio is pondering this, he hears Remus start moving across from him. Then, flames spring from his hand, illuminating the compartment in its orange glow.

"Quiet." He whispers to the younger three, and then to Elio, "Put your wand away, Elio."

Reluctantly, Elio does as he's told. He immediately regrets it as the door slides open, a skeletal hand sliding through. A strange, cloaked head — a Dementor's head — follows and peers around the room. It seems to be searching for something, lingering on each person with its featureless face. Elio feels rather empty again, as if nothing in the world matters. He feels unloved, abandoned, forgotten, and all he can do is sit there in stunned silence.

Elio is sinking deep into a pit he hasn't seen in quite some time. He can't fight it — it's as if his brain won't let him. All he can do is fall and listen to the taunts, 'This is why your father left you!'

Someone screams. There's a bright light. Somewhere within the fog, Elio sees Remus's face. His father has one hand clasping his cheek, the other pushing some chocolate into his mouth.

"Eat, Elio." Remus encourages him, compelling him to chew the chocolate in his mouth. As the sweetness floods his tastebuds, some warmth returns to his body. His father then leaves him and the Dementor's effect hasn't quite left yet, so all he feels is the cold. Remus seems to be aware of this as he pauses long enough to promise, "I'll be back. I need to check Harry."

Elio then realises Harry is on the ground. He must have got hit worse than him by the Dementor, as he's completely unconscious. The older boy pulls a chocolate bar from his pocket, chewing on it as he watches Remus rouse the boy to consciousness. Almost immediately, chocolate is given to him, along with the same instructions to eat.

"I need to speak with the driver." Remus informs the group. He moves to leave, then pauses at the door. "I'll be back."

Elio watches Harry as he avoids eating his chocolate, his friends fussing over him. Comments about screaming are passed between them, the ginger seems to say something about him. Harry still looks pale, barely recovered.

"The chocolate isn't poisonous." Elio pipes up as he stares at the uneaten chocolate. This seems to startle the other three, who must have forgotten he was there. "Eat it. It'll make you feel better."

"What was that?" Harry asks, fortunately taking a bite from the corner of his chocolate.

"Dementor, suckers of souls and all that is happy." Elio has read about them in a few books, but never had the misfortune of coming across one. Remus had suggested they might be at Hogsmeade while Sirius is on the run — had made him learn how to cast a basic patronus charm, just in case — but Elio hadn't expected to bump into one on the train of all places.

Remus has been taking a while.

"Excuse me." Elio says as he rises to his feet, clambering over the legs in his way. He all but falls out of the compartment and begins wandering off towards the front of the train.

Elio doesn't find Remus, but he does bump into Cedric first — quite literally. The Hufflepuff had been leaving his compartment right as Elio had been walking past, leading to a light collision.

"Oh, there you are!" Cedric says by way of greeting. The smile on his lips drops as he asks, "Do you know what's going on?"

"Dementors stopped the train to look for Sirius." Elio explains quickly, glancing up the train for any sign of his father. Cedric follows his gaze, frowns slightly, and looks back at him. "Dad went to talk to the driver."

As if on cue, Remus enters the carriage. His gaze is lowered, tired, and he nearly misses the two boys as a result. When he spots his son and Cedric, his eyes narrow into a frown and he passes some chocolate to the two of them, asking Cedric, "Did the dementors bother you?"

"No, sir. It just got cold and dark for a few minutes." Remus nods his head slowly, staring vacantly behind the pair.

"Elio and Harry must have attracted the dementors. If Black was going to go after anyone, it'd be those two." He theorises. Then, he places a hand on Elio's shoulder, gently pushing him back down the carriage to where their compartment was. "We'll be going again soon."

Cedric follows the pair back to the compartment, where a Gryffindor boy has joined his classmates. Elio and Remus take their old seats, while Cedric sits down in Harry's old seat; the Gryffindors have squished themselves up against the door, though the newcomer looks ready to leave at the slightest inconvenience. But he too receives some chocolate from Remus, which he doesn't seem to know what to make of.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Remus asks the other boy, who has at least finished his chocolate in their absence. He still looks shaken, only nodding in response, but definitely on the road to recovery.

"I saw you in the paper." Cedric says to Ron. The redhead doesn't seem to know how to take this, nodding blankly as he over at the older boy. "How was Egypt?"

"It was good. Didn't agree with Scabbers, though." Ron responds simply. Elio has no idea what a Scabbers is, but it sounds painful.

"How are you?" Remus asks Elio from within his bundle of warm robes, looking as if he's fighting sleep with every blink.

"I'm feeling better." Elio answers honestly, pulling his lips into a smile. He does feel better. The gathered group, managing weak conversation following the dementors, brings some warmth back into the compartment. It doesn't feel lonely anymore. "You?"

"Tired." Remus chuckles, resting his head against the window. With only a few minutes left until they arrived at Hogwarts, there is little opportunity to nap like he had been prior. Even Elio doesn't see any point in pretending to sleep. He'd wanted to prepare for the full moon ahead of them and get what little sleep he could get now, but the younger trio's entrance had turned genuine attempts at sleeping into feigned privacy. Almost nothing they said was news to Elio — except that Sirius is headed to Hogwarts. He knows exactly why that might have been kept from him.

Elio just doesn't know what makes Harry so special. Well, he knows why — being the Boy Who Lived naturally brings a degree of importance. Deep down, he just wishes Sirius was coming to Hogwarts for him, his own son. It's stupid to wish a murderer would target him instead — he knows that. But those feelings still rest there, irrational or not.

"Are you ready to be beat at Quidditch this year?" Cedric asks and it takes Elio a moment to realise he's being addressed. The second it does register, a grin spreads across his lips.

"Is it Hufflepuff's year this year?"

"I've got a good feeling." Cedric responds simply, confidently. It's false confidence, Elio is sure. No one but Slytherin has had any reason to be so confident in years.

"Don't let Oliver hear you." Harry pipes up, a smile tugging at his own lips. It's a good change from the borderline catatonic state he'd been inhabiting since the dementors.

"Don't worry, he claims it's Hufflepuff's year every year and they still haven't won. They haven't won since my second year." Cedric scowls, but the amusement still sparkles in his eyes. "I'd love to see someone snatch the cup from Slytherin's hands, though. It's growing tiresome winning all the time."

"And I'm growing tired of hearing you brag." Cedric mutters, much to the amusement of Harry and his friends.

"Ten galleons says Slytherin wins again."

"You're on." The two older boys are quick to shake hands. "If Hufflepuff wins, I want to be paid in full this time."

"Elio, we've spoken about this." Remus sighs, frowning at his son. The disapproval doesn't reach his eyes, a light-hearted attempt at being a parent.

"It's too late, Dad. Hands have been shaken." Elio raises his hands as if to indicate as such, acting as if he'd be unwilling to follow through such a bond. Cedric and Elio haven't paid any of their major debts in years, both having lost count of their tabs. Still, the tradition of betting on teams goes strong.

"What if one of the other houses wins?" Hermione asks.

"If Gryffindor or Ravenclaw breaks their losing drought, I will give the ten galleons to whoever captained them. They'd deserve it." Elio promises. This is a bet he's sure he'd pay — only because he doubts it will happen. Slytherin's winning streak has continued for far too long, and barely any of the conditions have changed. It would have to be a stroke of truly foul luck for one of those teams to pluck the Cup from their hands.

With bets placed, the rest of the train trip passes flowing between idle chatter and comfortable silence. Cedric recounts a Quidditch match he'd attended, the other Gryffindor boy — Neville Longbottom — mentions an awful family trip he'd been sent on, and Hermione's light reading seems to be far heavier than she describes if her friends' teasing is anything to go by. Before long, Elio has almost completely forgotten about the dementor attack.

"Is it true you actually fainted?" Any concern that might naturally come with those words is lost in the evil delight ringing in Draco's tone as he bounds up the stairs toward the castle, a few metres ahead of Elio and Remus. The target of his teasing — none other than Harry and his friends — finds his path suddenly blocked by the blond and his two large cronies.

"Shove off, Malfoy." Ron retorts, hackles already raised. A fight is brewing on the steps to the castle, only a few choice words from erupting. Remus seems to notice as such, as he lets out a heavy sigh when he approaches.

"It's not too early for me to start docking points, Draco." Remus warns, though Elio doubt there's any real weight to his threat. Still, the sneer drops from Draco's face in an instant. As the Black pair continue forwards, he falls in line beside Elio, his friends trailing him.

"Did you faint?" There is more concern in Draco's tone when he addresses Elio, though there is no doubt he'd use it for ammunition once he'd done his cousinly duty.

"No, I just felt ill."

"The dementors didn't bother us. I'd almost thought Theo was making it up — but he'd heard it from a Hufflepuff that Cedric Diggory had said that was why the train stopped."

"Theo would be right. The dementors will be around until they find Black." Remus confirms. "I assume I don't have to tell either of you to stay out of trouble, regarding him?"

The question is clearly directed at Elio, from the way Remus glances at him to the whole topic. They hadn't really spoken about the fact his father was on the run, or what that might mean for Elio. Sirius is a topic more often avoided than addressed when it comes to Remus. He'd answer questions when Elio had then, but it was always clear it was always going to be uncomfortable to talk about. It's easier to ask the Malfoys, for everyone involved.

"I don't know the man. I'm not going to try and get into trouble just because we're related." Draco answers simply.

"I won't go looking for him, either." Elio promises. He's not stupid enough to throw himself right into the hands of a murderer that killed all his godparents — and, maybe, deep down, had wanted to kill his father too. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he gave Sirius any leverage against Remus, or pushed his father into danger to save him.

If Sirius came looking for him, though he doubts it for as long as Harry Potter is in the picture, he'd make sure he's prepared.

Dinner is a tense affair. It really shouldn't be, when the Great Hall is so full of life and happiness Remus can almost imagine being a child again and he's sat next to McGonagall, who is incredibly happy to see him. But, as misfortune would have it, he's also sat next to Severus, who is just as pleased to see him as Remus is to him.

"Care for a grape, Lupin?" Severus asks in that dull tone of his, as if every second he's alive is a hardship. He picks up a small bowl of grapes from the table, that look more like a light snack or table decoration than a part of dinner, and offers it out to Remus.

"I'm fine, but perhaps you should have some. I hear they're good for hair." Remus doesn't know if grapes really are good for hair, but he's certainly not going to go down without a fight. The comment brings an irritated sneer to the Potions Professor's face, contorting his face into something grotesque.

"Remus, Severus, honestly!" McGonagall scolds, sounding exactly like a teacher telling off her students. She hasn't changed a bit, and Remus is pleased to note that. As she sighs at the pair, he can't fight the sheepish smile that pulls at his lips. For just a brief moment, he can almost imagine James and Peter standing beside him, sniggering to themselves. "I could have sworn you were both professors and not students — or did you not graduate fifteen years ago?"

As if on cue, Dumbledore announces, "First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"I'm sure you have plenty of practical experience in that post." Snape jabs as the students clap, a warm welcome Remus doesn't feel he deserves. He rises to his feet and offers them all a small smile, trying to ignore the way Snape knows exactly where to stab.

"More experience than you had with Potions. Or is that why your face is so disfigured?" Remus retorts, rather than give Snape the satisfaction of knowing he'd hit his mark.

"Boys!" McGonagall cries again. Neither are young enough to warrant such an address, but her tone suggests all she sees is the two students she'd once chased through the halls.

"He started it." Remus answers, because it's what James would have said if he were here.

"I do not care who started it. You are supposed to be setting an example for the students."

"I sure hope none of the students are looking to Severus for an example."

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Snape drawls. It looks as if they're giving the older woman a migraine, as her fingers rise to her temple.

"I will give you both detention if you don't stop." McGonagall warns. Something in her tone compels the two to grow quiet. While neither makes any more comments, they certainly don't make eating easier for the other. If any dish is within reach of one but not the other, they can be certain they won't be eating that tonight. Nothing that might get McGonagall's attention, plenty that will inconvenience the other.

It really is as if they were in school again. Remus can feel the memories of his friends hang in the air like ghosts, in the laughter of excited students, the clutter of eating, the frustration of the dark man at his elbow. He's too happy to be made sad by their presence, surrounded by only good memories.

Except for Snape. The only time good could be associated with him is in the context of his discomfort.