Chapter Thirty-Eight: Debriefing

As the dining room door closed, James crumpled against the wall, clutching his side and shaking uncontrollably. Remus stared, frozen with the terrifying thought that one of Sirius's relations had hexed him or poisoned him or done something else to cause his anguish. Then he realized that James was laughing, trying his hardest to keep from being heard by the men in the next room.

'Merlin's thumbs, Sirius,' he choked out, tears of mirth coursing down his cheeks. 'I've never met such a lot of stuffed shirts!'

Sirius was gaping at his friend, disbelief writ across his brow. 'You found them funny?' he asked. 'Funny?'

'Course I did!' James chortled. 'Showing one another up, the insults, the airs they put on, the bit about the hats…'

'You're mad,' Sirius said, his cheeks crimson. 'They were awful, they were horrid. Remus? Weren't they horrid?'

Remus stared down at his feet. It was a terrible thing to say about another person's family, but he could not deny it.

'And those robes the skinny blonde was wearing!' squealed James. 'She looked like an unripe pumpkin!'

'You're mad,' Sirius said again. He looked at Remus, shrugging helplessly. 'He's mad.'

Remus bit his lip. His hand was in his pocket again, gripping the phial that rested therein. 'Sirius?' he said. 'Which hearths are on the Floo Network?'

'Why?' Sirius asked, looking suddenly rather anxious. 'You're not… you don't want to leave already, do you?'

Remus shook his head. 'I just thought I ought to know,' he said softly. In fact, he did rather want to leave, but he had a horrible suspicion that as soon as he and James were gone Sirius would be punished for his behaviour at the table. The longer that could be delayed, the better. Perhaps Mrs Black's temper would have time to cool.

'The drawing room,' Sirius said. 'And tradesmen come in through the kitchen.'

'C-could I use it?' Remus asked. 'Only it's getting rather late, and I ought to just look in at home. The way you did, you know. To let them know I'm all right.'

For a moment he feared that Sirius would poke fun of him, but the taller boy merely nodded. 'It's down those stairs,' he said, jerking his head toward the end of the room where narrow stone steps led away somewhere below. 'C'mon, Potter. Let's go before you're heard.'

He took James by the arm and led him away. Remus followed; down the steps and into a huge, gleaming kitchen. It was the largest room Remus had ever seen outside of Hogwarts. There was a large hearth and an enormous table – long enough to sit at least two dozen people, though obviously it was never used for that purpose. Off to one side there were a couple of doors, likely leading to a scullery or a larder. There were pots and pans hanging from hooks on the ceiling, and the whole room had a spotless elegance despite the mundane nature of its purpose. Even the stone floor seemed to shine with a high polish.

At the great marble basins on the far end of the room, two house-elves were busy attending to the mountain of soiled china and the endless dozens of utensils. They wore matching lengths of black satin, embroidered with the Black family crest and draped about their spindly bodies like togas. After a moment Remus realized the cloths were antimacassars like the ones in the drawing room, only rather more faded. One of the elves was tremendously old, with thick tufts of white hair protruding from the pointed ears. The other seemed somewhat younger and moved considerably more quickly.

'Don't stare at them; you'll only attract their attention,' Sirius hissed in his ear. He moved over to the fireplace, dragging James with him. 'And you sit down and try to get a grip on yourself,' he said to his best friend.

James nodded, but he was still chortling uncontrollably as he settled in a low stool next to the hearth. Sirius had to get up on his toes to reach the little jet jar set on the mantle, for the kitchen fireplace was positively enormous.

'What is young Master doing?' a gravelly, obsequious voice inquired. Remus turned to see the younger of the two house elves standing beside the long work table, scraping a low bow. 'Is he running away with his little friends? Should Kreacher run and tell Mistress? Kreacher thinks he should.'

Sirius glowered at him. 'No, young Master is not running away,' he said. 'Master Lupin is looking in on his parents to let them know that dinner is over and he's staying a while longer to visit.'

'Young master isn't allowed to be using the fire without permission,' the house elf said. 'Mistress is getting very angry to find her orders disobeyed.'

'I'm not using the fire; Master Lupin is, and as he's a guest it's not for you to say what he may and may not do,' Sirius said crossly. He thrust the jar under Remus's nose and whisked off the ornate lid. 'Go on, take some,' he said.

Remus helped himself to a pinch of powder, and then hesitated.

'Well, go on!' Sirius said.

'I don't know how,' Remus protested softly. 'I've never done it before. Father has, but only from the Ministry. I've never seen him do it.'

'Just toss it in and stick your head in the flames,' James said between giggles. 'Keep your body out of the fire and you'll be fine.'

'Mistress isn't liking strangers using her fire,' Kreacher warned.

Sirius glowered. 'I told you; Master Lupin is a guest. Now get back to your work, you smarmy little git, before I kick your impudent rump six ways to Sunday.'

The house elf turned away, shaking his head as he went. He resumed his place at the sink, muttering to the other elf, 'Asking for trouble, young Master is. Kreacher means to tell Mistress, he does. Young Master ought not threaten Kreacher, no.'

Remus held out his hand, trying to return the powder to the jar. 'Please, Sirius, it isn't important,' he said hastily. 'I don't want to get you into any more trouble than I already have.'

'Than you already have?' Sirius asked, perplexed. He clamped the jar closed before Remus could empty his hand. 'What do you mean?'

His lower lip quivered a little, but he managed to maintain eye contact with Sirius as he said; 'Your cousin Bellatrix was poking fun at me, and so you didn't take her down to supper, and your mother… she p-pinched you.'

Sirius flushed crimson, glancing over his shoulder at James. The other boy was now sitting back in the chair with one hand cupped behind his head, grinning vacantly up at the hanging cookware. Relieved that the remark had escaped his notice, Sirius turned back to Remus and mustered a wry grin.

'You give yourself too much credit, mate,' he said bracingly. 'Bella and I have been on the outs for years – ever since I let loose a shower of baby spew all over her at the ripe old age of three days.'

James tittered. 'Bet she loved that!'

Sirius nodded. 'She was right chuffed,' he said solemnly. 'Dropped me like the proverbial potato. Happily, Cissy chose that moment to manifest her magical talents and I bounced into her lap. Little did she know she'd live to regret it.'

He pointed at the fire. 'Go on, Remus; pop in and tell 'em what you have to tell 'em,' he said. He glanced sidelong at the house elves, who were working far more slowly and silently than they had been earlier. 'Then we can go up to my room and get away from the audience.'

Before he could lose his resolve, Remus tossed the powder into the flames. He knelt down and called out, 'Nine Chancery Row, Falmouth, Cornwall!' and thrust his head and shoulders into the fire.

It took him a moment to orient himself, for while his palms and his knees were still firmly planted on the stone floor in London, his own homey little sitting room appeared before his eyes. His mother was in her rocker by the fire. She gave a little cry of surprise, and the handkerchief she was hemming fell to the floor.

'Remus!' she exclaimed. 'Are you all right?'

He nodded, wondering how the gesture must look when she couldn't see his shoulders. 'I'm fine,' he said. 'We've finished dinner, and I've been invited to stay for another hour or two. May I?'

'Of course you may, dear heart,' Mother said, looking pleasantly relieved. 'How was dinner?'

Remus paused, unsure what he could say that would not distress her. 'It was long,' he said. 'There was some lovely strawberry sorbet.'

Suddenly the sitting room door flew open and his father burst into the room, wild-eyed and harried. He dropped to his knees in front of the hearth. 'Remus!' he cried. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes,' Remus said hurriedly. 'Yes, I'm just fine. I only wanted…'

'He's staying for another hour or two to visit,' Mother said serenely, bending forward to retrieve her handwork. As she straightened she paused to kiss her husband's ear. 'Don't fret so, Ross. I told you there was nothing to worry about.'

Father did not look especially mollified, but he sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. 'Very well,' he said, exhaling heavily. 'Two more hours. But I want you home by ten, d'you hear? I won't have you in that house at night.'

'Yes, sir,' said Remus gravely. 'Ten o'clock.'

'Fine. Do you still have some Floo Powder?' Father asked.

'Yes; I haven't needed it,' Remus said. 'Sirius let me use some of his.'

'If there's any trouble…' Father warned.

Remus nodded again. 'Yes, sir.'

'Good lad,' Father said, a shaky smile taking some of the care from his features. 'Run along and have fun with your friends, then.'

'Yes, sir,' Remus said once more, smiling shyly and glancing at his mother's happy face. Then he pulled out of the fire and felt the heat upon his face as the flames reverted to hues of orange and yellow.

Sirius was watching him, an anxious look on his face. 'Can you stay?' he asked, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly.

'Until ten,' Remus said, getting to his feet. 'I'm meant to Floo home, I think. Will your Mother allow it?'

'Course she will,' Sirius said, rather savagely. He reached up onto the mantle and took down a large camelhair brush, with which he set about whisking the ash from Remus's head and shoulders. 'I guarantee she doesn't want to keep you.'

Remus felt his ears burning. 'I'm sorry,' he mumbled, hanging his head. 'I didn't know it was wine. It surprised me. I didn't mean to make a scene.'

'I'm the one who ought to apologize, mate,' Sirius said. 'I didn't even think to warn you. Don't you have wine at dinner in Cornwall?'

'Never,' Remus said. His parents fixed hot toddies at Christmas, and there was always a bottle of brandy in the pantry for emergencies, but he could never recall seeing wine in the house.

'Pity,' James said inanely, a broad lackadaisical smirk spreading across his face. 'It's good stuff.'

Sirius whirled on him, hands on his hips. 'You're not mad!' he said, his tone one of indignant accusation. 'You're tiddly! How much did you drink?'

'Dunno,' James said happily. 'Just the one gobletful, I think. Didn't need refilling.'

'They refill themselves, you berk,' Sirius said, but he was chuckling now and shaking his head. 'Is that how you got up the nerve to stand up to my mother?'

'No,' James said, straightening up and suddenly looking perfectly sober. 'I stood up to your mother because she was bang out of order. Lore, Sirius, she's awful.'

'That's what I've been saying,' Sirius hissed. 'I thought she was going to eat you alive!'

'Young Master shouldn't speak that way about Mistress,' Kreacher said smarmily, appearing abruptly at Remus's elbow. 'Kind Mistress who loves him still, even if he's a troublemaker and a Gryffindor and a failure. Generous Mistress who lets him bring his little friends to meet the family, to dine at the table of her noble fathers.'

'It seems to me that Kreacher shouldn't speak that way about young Master,' James observed mildly.

Kreacher regarded him shrewdly, evidently trying to take the measure of this intruder in the brilliant red robes. 'True. It is true. A house elf must never speak ill of his family. But Kreacher will not let anyone speak ill of his Mistress.'

'Kreacher,' the other house elf called in a high and feeble voice; 'back to work now. Help Lamea with the big turtle pot. You know she can't be lifting it.'

Kreacher sidled off again, keeping one sly eye on Sirius.

'Nasty spying toerag,' muttered Sirius darkly. 'He's always snitching on me to her. Half the things I've done I would've got away with, except for Kreacher.'

'Why're we still sitting here, then?' asked James, hefting himself to his feet and swaying a little, comically. He let out a loud, false hiccough and grinned.

Sirius moaned. 'Your parents! They're never going to forgive me; they'll never let you come back here if they find out my family got you drunk!'

'I'm not drunk, you great babbling wanker,' James assured him. 'I'm not an idiot, and I didn't drink more than a gobletful. I may be a little giddy, but I'm—' He saluted crisply. '—as sober as a merchant marine.'

'How reassuring,' Sirius said dryly. 'All right, let's—'

He was interrupted by the pounding of feet on the stairs. A blur of green and silver came charging into the kitchen, prattling merrily as it went.

'Mea! Mea! The dinner was ever so good!' Regulus cried, dashing along the length of the table and skidding to a stop next to the sink. 'I've never tasted such perfectly wonderful turtle; you really outdid yourself!'

The older house elf turned, wiping her hands on her makeshift garment. She grinned toothlessly at the boy and made a deep curtsy.

'Little Master is too kind,' she said, looking rather teary-eyed. 'Lamea is only doing her best for the family. Little Master should expect no less, he shouldn't.'

Squirming happily, Regulus bent and kissed the elf on the crown of her bald head. 'Thank you!' he said. 'I'm sure Sirius's friends liked it, and I did so want us to make a good impression! James Potter said the sorbet was better than Mrs McKinnon's raspberry punch!'

Kreacher, who had turned from his work to fix fawning eyes on the boy, gasped in surprise and clapped his hands over his mouth, dancing anxiously where he stood. 'Better?' he cried. 'Better than punch made by witches and wizards? Oh, Kreacher is thanking little Master! So kind, so thoughtful, to tell Kreacher what the guest is saying!'

'Lamea is teaching Kreacher everything she knows,' the older elf said proudly. 'Soon Kreacher is taking care of the family all on his own.'

'Don't say that,' Regulus begged, his young face crumpling with worry. 'You're going to be with us for years and years, Mea, and when I get married you'll make my wedding cake, same as you did for Mother and Father.'

Lamea seemed to go into a rapture of delight at this promise, and Kreacher looked suddenly rather forlorn.

'And we'll have your strawberry sorbet served between courses, Kreacher,' Regulus said generously, watching gleefully as Kreacher began to wring his hands jubilantly. 'And that baron of lamb. It was wonderful. Even Sirius ate every bite!'

Sirius cleared his throat loudly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning down the length of the room. Regulus turned, momentarily startled. Then his face lit up and he came hurrying over.

'You came down! You never come down.' Regulus smiled hugely. 'Oh, I'm glad. They love it so when you thank them. They'll be nicer to you if only you're nicer to them.'

'I don't need to be nice to them; they're only house elves,' Sirius said coldly. 'And I don't see why you're so bothered about it. Anyway I didn't come down to thank them; Remus just needed to poke his head in at home. And we're going now.' He looked emphatically at his friends. 'We're going now.'

'Could I come?' Regulus asked, trotting after Sirius as he strode towards the stairs. 'I want to get to know your friends. I don't mind if they're Gryffindors and half-bloods; if they're your friends, Sirius, they're all right by me.'

'No, you can't come,' Sirius said shortly. 'I haven't seen James and Remus in weeks, and I haven't had a minute to talk to them since they got here six hours ago. We're going up to my room for a nice visit, and I'm afraid you're just not invited.'

Regulus looked crestfallen. 'But Sirius…'

'I said no,' Sirius repeated. His expression softened a little. 'Tomorrow you and I can get up a game of Gobstones or something. How would that be?'

'All right,' Regulus said. Then something occurred to him and his brow knit with worry. 'But Sirius, what if you're upstairs tomorrow? You spilled your wine all over the table! Mother's bound to be angry.'

Something unreadable crossed Sirius's face. 'Then we'll play when I'm out,' he said resolutely. 'Now just run along and let me see my friends. Please?'

There was a genuine desperation in the last entreaty, and Regulus seemed every bit as aware of it as Remus was. He nodded solemnly. 'Go on, Sirius,' he said. 'Have a nice time. I don't mind, really.'

Sirius clapped him gently on the elbow. 'Thanks,' he said, his voice a little gruff. Then he jerked his head at the others. 'Let's go.'

'What was he talking about?' James asked as they emerged in the entryway again.

'Nothing,' Sirius said shortly. 'He's just my daft kid brother, always wanting to tag along. Now hush.' They were coming up on the first landing now. 'My mother's in the drawing room dishing out coffee and criticism, and frankly I don't want either right now.'

The three boys crept up to the second landing with impressive restraint. On the third, however, James leaned down over the bannisters and chuckled again.

'London houses!' he said. 'Up and up they go… d'you never get tired of all these stairs?'

'It was good practice for Hogwarts,' Sirius replied, glancing down at the top of the serpent chandelier curiously, as if he had never seen it quite from this vantage point before.

'Hey, listen,' James said. 'Where's the loo?'

Sirius pointed over his shoulder at the hallway lined with dark, heavy doors. 'Third on your right.'

James moved off, disappearing into the appropriate room. Sirius turned back to lean on the bannister.

'Remus,' he said at length.

The smaller boy moved nearer, mimicking his friend's posture with none of the easy grace that came so naturally to Sirius. 'Yes?'

His friend gave him a sidelong look. 'Listen. This isn't the time or the place, but you and I need to talk.'

Remus felt an anxious flutter in his stomach as he remembered what his father had said about a boy staring at him – at them – with hatred at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Abruptly the mystery fell away. There was no one at Hogwarts who might have guessed he was a werewolf and kept silent despite their loathing, but there was one person who had very good reason to cast glares of hatred on Mr Lupin. He felt his already dry tongue shrivel in his mouth.

'I lied, Sirius,' he confessed, before he could stop himself. 'I… I lied.'

Sirius nodded sombrely. 'I worked that part out,' he said, squinting at the silver chain that supported the chandelier. 'What I can't see is why. What could possibly be awful enough that you'd rather lay claim to something like that than admit to it?'

The time had come to test the friendship they had built over the past months. 'Whatever it is,' Remus whispered; 'do you understand now that I don't want to talk about it?'

Sirius turned, surprise and – incredibly – sympathy on his patrician face. He shook his head wonderingly. 'Whatever it is,' he said; 'don't you understand yet that I won't think any less of you?'

James came out into the hall at that moment, sparing Remus the burden of trying to reply to a statement so innocently but patently false. 'Well?' he asked. 'Farther up? We'll be at broomstick altitudes soon.'

'I… I need to…' Remus nodded awkwardly down the corridor, and Sirius, whose eyes were still fixed on his face, waved him on. He ran into the bathroom and closed the door as quickly as he could before sinking to the floor with his back against it. He was trembling violently. Sirius knew. He knew… not about the wolf, of course, but about the lies. Sirius, whose own mother shamed him in company and dug her talons into the vulnerable parts of his body, knew that Remus had lied about abuse purportedly suffered at the hands of his father.

Remus tried frantically to remember what Sirius had seen that had led him to this conclusion, and of course that too was obvious. He had hugged his father tenderly; Father had shielded him from the crowd and let him rest while he fetched the luggage. Then he had fallen asleep under the warm comfort of the man's arm. These were not the actions of a man who beat his son, nor indeed the actions of a boy thus mistreated by his father.

Yet somehow, miraculously, Sirius was not angry. He had sounded merely disappointed – defeated. Remus almost dared to hope, for the briefest of moments, that this meant he would not take it any further. Of course that was too much to expect. Summer would delay things for a while, perhaps, but soon enough they would be back at school where the disappearances and the woundings would continue with no remaining explanation. He had only a few precious weeks left to cherish his friendships and the illusion that he was an ordinary boy.

Someone rapped gently on the door. 'You all right in there?' a low voice called. It was Sirius, of course; considerate as ever. Remus wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling a little to drive back the urge to weep.

'I'm fine,' he said hoarsely. 'I… I'll be out in a minute.'

He forced himself to his feet and put his hand on the doorknob, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the sink. The thirst that had been plaguing him through most of the meal multiplied now a hundred times, and before he knew what he was doing he had his head in the basin, drinking greedily from the stream of water that poured from the taps.

When he had had his fill he turned off the water and wiped his face and hands on the dark towel hanging from an ornate ring on the wall. He smoothed his robes with care, glanced at his pale reflection in the mirror, and opened the door.

Sirius and James were waiting, amiable smiles on their faces. Together the three boys ascended the last broad flight of steps. On the topmost landing, where only a narrow set of stairs covered with a worn carpet went on to the attic, there were two doors. Sirius opened the one bearing his forename name on an old and very dignified-looking nameplate and bustled the other two into the room beyond.

James ambled in, looking about with interest before flopping down in an elegant armchair by the heavily curtained window. Sirius picked up his wand from a table by the door and jabbed it upward, igniting the concentric circles of candles suspended from a chandelier. It was not so ornate nor so enormous as the one in the entryway, but it was still very impressive. Remus gawked at it, thinking of the Muggle light bulb with its frosted glass bowl hanging from the ceiling of his little room at home.

He took in the rest of the room with that same melange of wonder and inadequacy. Sirius's room was enormous; larger and loftier than the Lupins' kitchen. The bed was bigger than the one belonging to Remus's parents, and it was covered in silk bedclothes and a heavy brocaded counterpane. The headboard was richly and ornately carved, as was the chest of drawers and the large, heavy wardrobe. In place of paper the walls were covered with silvery silk. A large Gryffindor banner hung on one wall, its scarlet and gold in stark contrast to the dark dignity of the rest of the room.

Sirius flung himself on the bed with the same lazy abandon he always used at school, rolling onto his stomach and propping his head up with his hands. 'Well, this is it,' he said. 'The traditional bedroom of the Sirius Blacks. Two have resided here before me – both with more blood pride and straighter spines, as old Phineus Nigellus loves to remind me. What do you think?'

'Needs more of those,' James said, pointing at the Gryffindor lion.

'I know,' Sirius said. 'I've got half a dozen more in my trunk, but I'm keeping my nose clean, remember? Besides, she'll only take them down again the moment I'm gone. I've got to learn that charm that makes things stick. It's only in there with straight pins.

'Still,' James allowed; 'not bad. Nice view?' He nodded at the curtained window.

Sirius shook his head. 'Rooftops and about two square feet of a grubby alley. This neighbourhood isn't what it was when the house was built – another favourite theme among the older portraits.'

James wrinkled his nose. 'Sorry to say it, mate, but no wonder you want to get away for a few days. Do you really think they'll let you?'

Sirius sighed. 'I don't rightly know,' he admitted. 'She only said I had to have you to dinner because she didn't think there was a chance in hell that I'd let you come. I mean, it's not the honourable thing to renege now, but my mum isn't exactly known for her sense of honour.'

'Bit of a fix for your dad to be in,' remarked James. 'I mean, his father and his wife running the house like that. I don't imagine he's got much authority.'

'Not much,' Sirius allowed. 'He spends his time dreaming up new and daft ways to Muggle-proof the property. It's already Unplottable, and that ridiculous front door won't let anyone open it from the outside without a wand. And the little strip of lawn out back is so thickly Disillusioned that you get dizzy just sitting out there. The one thing he hasn't actually managed to do is get rid of the neighbours.'

James chuckled. 'But where do you play Quidditch?' he asked.

'Uncle Alphard's place. He's got a cottage out in the country – when he's home in England. He's away just at present.' Sirius sighed despondently. 'Seems he's almost always away. If it weren't for Drommie and looking forward to seeing the two of you this summer would be sodding unbearable.' He smirked. 'I haven't even been able to let loose any chaos!'

'Well, try and resist the urge,' James said. 'Another fortnight and you could be down in Cornwall.'

'Yeah,' Sirius said with a dreamy look on his face. He wrinkled his nose. 'Speaking of Drommie, why didn't you just keep your big mouth shut?'

'About what?' asked James.

'About…' Sirius looked around furtively, although there were no portraits in his room and therefore no one to spy on them. 'About the Hufflepuff Beater,' he whispered.

'Oh. That. What's it matter?' James asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Potter, you are thick as a brick. He's Muggle-born. They can't keep us fraternizing with that sort at school, however much they try, but snogging them behind the caretaker's hut is another thing entirely.'

'But that was months ago!' James protested. Then he looked rather guilty. 'But only 'cause she wouldn't let him that night we saw them out on the gallery.'

'What? You didn't say anything about snogging when you made your report.' Sirius's eyes narrowed.

'That's because there wasn't any, not really. Right Remus?' James looked up, begging corroboration.

'There wasn't,' Remus agreed. 'He did try, but she wouldn't let him.'

'Good,' Sirius said stoutly. 'I'm pleased she's come to her senses and stopped playing with fire. All the same, I think old Andromeda's losing her grip. A hat shop, of all barmy notions?'

'Something wrong with hat shops?' asked James.

'Not as such,' said Sirius. 'But I mean, I've known Drommie all my life, and she's not the sort to wait on fussy old ladies looking for the very latest thing. What can she want with a hat shop?'

'I don't know,' James said; 'but I'm telling you right now that I am not about to start tailing her 'round the Home Counties just so you can satisfy your curiosity.'

'I would never dream of asking you to!' Sirius said, feining hurt.

'Well, good.' James smirked. 'Just so we're clear.'

They lapsed into good-natured silence for a while, until Sirius rolled onto his back, tilting his head so that he could peer over his eyebrows at the other two boys.

'You did really well, Remus,' he said. 'At dinner, I mean.'

Remus flushed with pleasure at the words of praise. 'I… well, I did muck it up about the wine,' he demurred.

'Sure,' said Sirius; 'but that could happen to anyone. Anyone who doesn't have wine at dinner, that is,' he added with a small perplexed frown. 'But the rest of it… she tried every trick known to witch or wizard. The grouse really was beyond the pale. How'd you work out how to carve it?'

'I watched Andromeda,' Remus admitted. 'But Sirius, you very nearly had me make a fool of myself! Everyone ate the pears with that funny-looking fork. I was going to dip my hand in the dish!'

Sirius's expression was pained. 'She outfoxed me, the old hag!' he moaned. 'She must've known I'd warn you about pears, but of course I didn't think to say raw pears. Just as well you're sharp.'

'I'm not sharp,' Remus said unhappily. 'Drommie warned me off that as well.'

'Well, by hook or by crook you pulled it off, anyway,' Sirius told him. 'And she really did try every trick in the book.'

Remus nodded. 'My soup was cold, too,' he confessed.

'It was cucumber soup,' James said, puzzled. 'It's always served cold.'

Remus felt himself burning with shame at his ignorance. It had never even occurred to him that the dish might have been chilled for everyone; he had assumed that either his was the inferior portion or that they had been trying to humiliate him. Now he had gone and showed himself an ill-bred half-blood in front of his friends. 'I—I didn't know that,' he stammered, hanging his head.

Sirius was on his belly again, leaning up against crossed arms. 'But you ate it,' he said, perplexed. 'You didn't say anything.'

Remus shook his head. 'My mother raised me better than that,' he mumbled. 'It would have been rude to say anything.'

'Well there, you see?' Sirius said, smiling broadly. 'You didn't make a mess of it; you carried that off beautifully, too.' He scowled. 'I'll just bet she served chilled soup on purpose, too, wanting to see if you'd say something ignorant.'

James clicked his tongue. 'Such a way with words, you have,' he said. 'Remus, don't fret over it. The main thing is you minded your manners and it paid off nicely. I can't think of one thing they could fault you for – apart from the wine, which really could've happened to anyone. There are plenty of pureblood families that don't let the children have wine. Even at my place we only get a little taste in the bottom of the goblet.'

Remus was about to thank them for their kind words when with a crack a house elf appeared in the middle of the room. Sirius sat bolt upright on his bed, scowling viciously.

'What do you want?' he demanded. 'I told you that you weren't to come bursting in here! Knock, like a normal servant.'

'Of course, young Master,' Kreacher said unctuously, bowing low. 'But Kreacher is coming on orders from Mistress. The time has come, it has, for young Master's noble guests to be going.'

'What?' Sirius asked, glancing at the elegant wall clock over the door. 'It's only just gone nine; Remus can stay 'til ten, and James… er…'

'Hasn't got a curfew,' James said cheerily.

'The little son of half-bloods and failures is going now,' Kreacher said. 'Mistress commands it.' Before any of the boys could react, he had his bony hand closed on Remus's wrist and was dragging him to the door, which swung open as they approached.

'Hey!' Sirius shouted, clambering off of the bed and hopping towards the door. 'Hey! You can't just… what about good manners?'

'Mistress isn't saying anything about manners,' Kreacher said. He started down the stairs and Remus, bewildered and rather uncomfortable, had no choice but to follow. 'The sickly one is to be put out, and then the Potter is to go home, too. Dinner party is over, Mistress says.'

'You – you little wretch!' Sirius yelped. They were on the third landing now, and Kreacher hustled Remus on toward the next flight of stairs. 'Unhand him at once! I command it.'

Kreacher froze, the hand on Remus's wrist twitching spastically.

'That's right,' Sirius said with a nasty smile. 'I command it. You've got to do what I say, whether you like it or not. I'm one of the family – I'm the heir to the great Black fortune, you included. You've got to obey me.'

'True. It is very true,' Kreacher said, bowing without consideration to the way the motion tugged on Remus's arm. 'Kreacher must obey young Master, or Kreacher must be punished. But Kreacher must obey Mistress first. Then Kreacher will punish himself for disobedience to young Master.' His lips curled, exposing twin rows of sharp little teeth. 'Kreacher will ask Mistress what punishment is suitable,' he said slyly. 'Kreacher wonders what Mistress will say.'

Sirius blanched. 'You wouldn't…' he stammered.

'It's all right,' Remus said hastily. 'It's all right, Sirius. Of course I'll go home if I'm not wanted anymore. It's been such a lovely night.' He flinched inwardly at the lie. 'Please, don't spoil it.'

'Half a half-blood he is, but he knows his place,' Kreacher said approvingly. 'Not wanted, he is; time to go.'

He started down the stairs again and though Remus followed meekly he did not release his grip on the boy's wrist. Sirius and James followed, the former fuming silently and the latter looking rather mortified by the whole ungracious situation. They reached the first landing, and Remus expected to be led into the drawing room, but Kreacher strode purposefully past. Of course, Remus thought, ashamed of putting on airs above his station, they wouldn't want him in the drawing room. The tradesmen's fire was good enough for him.

But at the foot of the stairs Kreacher turned left, not right, and hauled open the heavy front door.

'N-no, there must be some mistake,' Remus stammered. 'I'm meant to go by Floo…'

'Mistress isn't saying anything about Floo,' Kreacher said, shaking his head. 'Turn him out if he won't go, Kreacher, she says. Kreacher is good. Kreacher is obedient. Kreacher is minding his mistress.'

'No!' Sirius barked, striding forward with a menacing gleam in his eye. 'Remus, you go on through to the kitchen, and we'll—'

Kreacher threw out his hand, palm outward. Sirius was hurled backward against the bannister. 'Kreacher is following his orders!' he said shrilly.

'Come on, Kreacher, be a sport,' James said, grinning in that particular way that he had of communicating that no one ever said no to the heir to the Potter fortune. 'Let's just go downstairs, and we'll both be gone in a minute or two.'

'No!' Kreacher said. 'Put him out, says Mistress, and then Potter goes home too.' Swift as an adder and with far more strength than his little body ought to have held, he seized hold of Remus. James cried out and Sirius sprang to his feet to charge, but the house elf flung the boy unceremoniously over the threshold.

Remus lost his footing and tumbled down the steps, landing painfully on his hands and knees. He felt a sting in his palms that set off a tiny, irrational wave of panic, and then he scrambled to his feet, charging back up the steps towards the closed door.

'No!' he cried, slapping the glossy black paint with his palm. 'No! Please! Please, let me in! I'm meant to use the Floo – there's no one coming for me! Please!'

He hammered with the knocker, but no answer came. James and Sirius were just on the other side of the door. Surely one of them would help him. Surely one of them would let him back inside so that he could Floo home. But the door stayed firmly closed, and no amount of pounding or pleading brought a response from within.

Remus sank down onto the front stoop, hands still pressed against the door. Panic welled up inside of him. Sirius and James could not come, or they would have done so by now. The house elf had his orders, and Remus knew he would not be allowed back into the house. His breath came in short, heavy gasps. How would he get word to his parents? How could he possibly get home? Terror and despair filled him, numbing all other sensations as he looked around the desolate little square. Night had fallen and he was alone in the middle of London. What, he thought frantically, could he possibly do to help himself?