The remaining owl’s irritated pecking on Remus’ fingers is what breaks him out of his reverie, staring at the moving image of Peter—Peter, his friend, one of his best friends, Peter, who became an animagus for him, Peter, who he had mourned, whose body they had never found save for his little finger, who was given an Order of Merlin for his bravery during the War—Peter, snarling at the camera one second, crying and begging the next, thrashing against his restraints.