Chapter Four: The Dog, The Hag and Beetje Heks-Stad

Remus barely slept a wink for the rest of the night. He kept turning his head on the pillow to stare at the Ministry witch just across the compartment from him - and then turning back so he was staring up at the underside of Sirius' bunk. More often than not he was holding his breath. As long as Sirius stays a dog , he kept on thinking to himself, there's no way she can ever know just as long as Sirius stays a dog. But his heart was still heavy in his chest - and he felt sick with dread.

Though from the sounds of the grunts and whistles and snuffles from above him, Sirius was completely unperturbed by the turn of events. He was sleeping soundly, lost in doggy dreams.

He turned his head on his pillow and looked at Umbridge again. Her wide mouth was hanging open. There was a string of saliva hanging between her lips and every so often she made a 'hmm papapapa' sound as she smacked her lips together in her sleep.

He shuddered - and looked away again.

A moment later - she emitted a loud croaking noise … and then rolled over. He glanced back, and was forcibly reminded of a toad as he saw her there, huddled in the bunk. Whatever had happened in First Class, he wished with all his heart that it had not. And however annoyed and upset Madam Umbridge was at slumming it down here with them, she was nowhere near as annoyed and upset as Remus was at her arrival.

Eventually, he dozed off into a light and fitful sleep - where his dreams were haunted by toads and rats - creeping out of the shadows wherever he and Sirius looked.

...

He wasn't sure what woke him up, the next morning. If it was the sun shining through the window - or the sudden arrival of Sirius in his bunk, shoving him over to the side and curling his body around him.

'Are you mad? The Ministry Hag is right over...'

'Relax, she went to the bathroom. We have time.'

'For what?'

'To talk!'

'I thought I told you we wouldn't both fit in this bed.'

'And I told you we would if we squished up.' His handsome face took on a smug expression, 'and I was right. So … the Ministry Hag will be back from the bathroom soon. We'll be in our little Flemish town before we know it - what's the plan?'

'Get as far away from the Ministry Hag as possible and then start asking around for Peter. I have that photo of him … it's twelve years out of date but …'

'You think he'll have travelled through Beetje Heks-Stad?'

'That's not how you pronounce it.'

'Like you pronounce it any better!'

'My Dutch accent is …'

'Abysmal,' Sirius told him.

Remus swatted him with the back of his hand and they both laughed - until they were interrupted by the Austrian snorting in his sleep.

They both turned to look at him, craning their necks out of the bunk to catch sight of him on his upper berth. 'If sleeping were a competitive event…' Sirius said. Then he snuggled back down and turned back to Remus. 'What do we do if someone has seen him?' He was, of course, referring to Peter once again.

'Find out everything they know - I don't know; this whole thing was your idea. I should be at home right now, if it wasn't for you, having a cup of tea.'

'All alone.'

'In the peace and quiet,' Remus countered.

'No one to look after you.'

'No one to crawl into my bed and take it over.'

'You've missed me, Moony. Don't pretend you haven't.'

Remus bit his lip to try and stop the grin from spreading across his face. But he couldn't stop the heat flushing into his cheeks. He looked down - not wanting Sirius to see … and then he heard the click of the compartment door - and he turned in horror … But Sirius had heard it too - and before he knew it, Remus suddenly had a face full of black fur and an arm flung casually across a giant, black dog.

Madam Umbridge stopped in the doorway, when she saw them both. She really was an uncannily short and squat witch - and her likeness to a toad was unsettling. Especially as now she had tied a black bow in her hair - and it sat on the top of her head looking for all the world like a juicy fly.

She stared at them.

Remus struggled to sit up - and tried his best to look like a respectable, young wizard going on holiday with his pet dog … and not like a 34 year old werewolf who - moments before - had been cuddling in bed with his wanted mass-murderer best friend.

He met her eyes - and she seemed to look right through him, right to the wolf. His pajamas were purple and white stripes but - as with everything he owned, they were old and threadbare - and both the purple and the white were turning decidedly grey… and the clear sign of his poverty seemed to tell her everything she needed to know.

That he was dangerous.

Though he knew he was being stupid - she couldn't possibly know just by looking. She was probably just a snob.

'That's a very large dog to have in the bed with you,' she said to him - in a sniffy sort of voice.

He and Padfoot glanced at each other. 'Well, I keep trying to make him stay in his own bed - but he won't listen.'

'You need to take a firm hand when dealing with ... beasts.' She reached her own hand out - as if intending to use a firm hand on him right there and then.

Sirius growled and snapped at her.

'Careful,' Remus warned. 'He's not very friendly.'

Sirius woofed - and gave him a big slobbery lick right up his face, wagging his tail joyfully.

'With strangers,' Remus amended. 'He's not very friendly with strangers.' He shot Sirius an annoyed glance, but he couldn't really fight the grin of amusement that was sneaking across his face. Sirius licked him again.

'Well - he seems to be very friendly with you.'

Remus frowned … Her voice was sickeningly saccharine and yet ... He didn't know what the toad witch was insinuating but she seemed to be insinuating something … 'We've known each other a long time.'

'What's his name?'

'Padfoot.'

'A strange name - why is he called that?'

'I … don't know. I didn't choose it. I always thought it was a stupid name.'

Sirius bared his teeth and growled at him.

'He seems very intelligent,' Umbridge said.

'This stupid thing?'

Another growl.

'It's like he understands every word.' Her eyes were calculating, though her voice was still fluting and girlish. It was an odd combination.

'Oh - he definitely doesn't. My last words to him last night were "don't get into my bed, there isn't room" … and as you can see…'

'You paid for him to have his own berth?' Her eyes took in the shabbiness of his pajamas again.

He felt himself flush. 'Yes.'

'And where are you going?'

'Maggiora.'

'That must have set you back.'

'We managed.'

'And what is it that takes you to Italy, Mr…?'

'Lupin. We're going to visit family.'

She smiled - sneering and snide. 'Yours or the dogs?'

'The dogs.'

The smile vanished from her face - and she looked angry. She was being made fun of - by both this disreputable looking, young man and his dog - and she quite clearly did not appreciate it. She was a very important person in the Government … She was probably used to respect. This treatment of her was something unheard of.

For Remus though, being talked down to and disapproved of because he was so obviously poor was nothing new. It had happened to him three times in the past twelve hours. And this was how they treated him before they knew about his condition. He was used to it. He hated it … and with Sirius by his side he suddenly wasn't going to stand for it any longer.

When they had been young, Sirius and James had always given short shrift to anyone who dared to be rude to Remus. And bolstered by their presence, protected by their love, he had joined in - dared to answer back. Twelve years alone had knocked all that out of him. Now he just pretended he didn't notice, or that he didn't hear. He had just spent the past year pretending not to hear Draco Malfoy - a 13 year old boy for Merlin's sake - make rude comments about the state of his robes. It was less painful - and less humiliating - to just pretend it wasn't happening.

But now he had Sirius back - and he didn't have to pretend any more. He felt like he was Moony again - and if people were rude to him then he would throw it right back at them and enjoy watching them squirm.

Or - in the case of Madam Umbridge - bristle in righteous indignation. 'I - I …'

'Excuse me,' he said coolly. He tipped Sirius onto the floor and then got up - picking up their whole case. 'We need to use the facilities.'

'So silly of me, but - you're taking the dog?' she asked incredulously.

He just raised an eyebrow at her. 'Unless you'd rather he just went in the compartment?'

She turned bright red. He nodded at her - ushered Sirius out - and they headed down the hallway, to find that - at some point in the night - someone must have come along and sorted out the unconscious wizard, as the bathroom was now empty.

...

They had locked themselves in the bathroom, brushed their teeth, had a strip wash and got dressed … lingering as long as they dared so they didn't have to return to the toadish presence of Umbridge.

But eventually other passengers had begun banging on the door - and reluctantly, they had gone back to their compartment where they had spent a tense hour and a half sitting on Remus' bunk; the Ministry Hag shooting suspicious glances at them, and Remus having to remember not to start proper conversations with Padfoot.

It came as a great relief to both of them, when the train finally pulled into the little station of Beetje Heks-Stad and they could disembark.

As they stepped down onto the platform, they became aware of a sudden fracas near the back of the train and - glancing to the side - they saw the unconscious wizard from last night, in his fine robes and gold chain, being bundled off by some guards.

'But you don't understand,' he was yelling - he was very red in the face, 'I am ze mayor of Kobolddorf - you cannot treat me zis vay.'

'Not get a ticket, mate - no ticket, no travel.'

'But I hat ein ticket! For - how you say? First Class! Es war sehr teuer.'

'Yeah? What happened to it?'

'I do not know!' He wailed. 'I vas in the bathroom and zen - I vas vaking up. Ticket gone.'

'Yeah yeah.'

Remus and Sirius looked at each other - and then shrugged, glad they had not got in the middle of all this last night. 'The train sets off again at five past one,' Remus muttered to the dog, out of the corner of his mouth, 'we've got two hours and twenty minutes to ask around for Peter - come on.'

The little platform was bustling with passengers disgorging from the train, and Belgian porters and guards in their uniforms; blowing whistles and yelling and pushing luggage trolleys. The crowd jostled and shoved - and Remus kept a tight grip on Sirius to make sure they weren't separated. His eyes roved around the platform - it was only small, just room for one train at a time - and had a quaint little ticket booth at the end. Beyond that he could see the thatch of the roofs of the all wizarding town, their crooked chimneys reaching up to the sky and smoke of all colours billowing out.

'You ought to have that thing on a leash,' an unpleasantly familiar, girlish voice said from somewhere down near his elbow.

He frowned down at Madam Umbridge - it was her he had been trying to get away from. 'Padfoot does not need to be tied up,' he said coldly. 'If you'll excuse us.' Once again, he took hold of the back of Sirius' neck and hurried them both away - though he could swear that he could feel her cold and calculating eyes on him all the way until he disappeared inside the swirl of noise and robes and general busyness of the crowd.

They passed the ticket booth and stepped out into the winding, cobbled streets of Beetje Heks-Stad. The buildings all seemed to lean against each other, the thatch of the roof of one building spilling over into the next - so the whole place had an air of being like a line of dominoes propping each other up and then covered over in a wild haystack.

Finding a quiet spot, and with a swift check around for the Ministry hag, Remus blocked Sirius from the view of the street while the other man transformed. A second later, Padfoot had vanished - and Remus grinned at the dark haired man who emerged from the shadows. 'It's good to have you back.'

'I never went anywhere.'

'No but - it's different when you're a dog. I can't talk to you properly. Come on - and don't be seen by that Ministry Hag'... Though Sirius was looking so young and handsome by now, Remus seriously doubted his own mother would recognise him from his wanted posters, let alone old toadface.

...

They walked along to the centre of the town, where the buildings stood in a great circle opening out onto a town square… a town circle. Cafes selling mussels or frites with mayonnaise had little tables under striped awnings and were packed out with passengers fresh off The Flying Frenchman. Zoet als Snoep confectioners had trays of the most mouthwatering looking pralines and truffles set out for everyone to admire. There was a wand shop (Tristan Triempe: Toverstaf Maker) and a joke shop (Knetteren en Knal's). There was a branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies which, like the one in Diagon Alley, had the Firebolt proudly displayed in the window; a book shop called Grenzen and a large pub, that seemed to be doing a roaring trade selling large quantities of beer, which had a wooden sign outside with a picture of a quill dripping ink carved into it.

'De Inktzwarte Ganzenveer' Sirius read the sign, tripping over the unfamiliar words.

'The Inky Quill,' Remus told him.

'How'd you know that?'

'I looked at the picture and made an educated guess.'

'Oh - sounds better in English.'

'Everything always does. Shall we go in?'

'As good a place to start as any.' They headed into the busy pub, spotting - as they went - the red face and lederroben of their Austrian bunkmate; now finally awake, and quaffing pints of Flemish red ale. Ducking past him, they made their way up to the bar. It was very busy inside - and they had to employ their elbows to shove their way to the front.

'Do you speak English?' Remus asked the barman, when he finally had his attention.

The barman nodded tersely.

'Excellent - we're looking for this man. Have you seen him?' He took out his twelve year old picture of Peter and flourished it under the man's nose. 'He'd be a bit older now, though.'

But the wizard didn't even look at the photo, 'you buying a drink?'

The two of them looked at each other. 'Fine,' Sirius snapped, 'we'll have two …' he scanned the chalk board above the bar, 'botterbiers? What the hell is a botterbier?'

This time Remus' look had a touch of incredulity to it. 'Really? You've got such a block on foreign languages you can't work that out?'

The barman sniggered, reached under the counter and clonked two bottles of Butterbeer down in front of them. Remus paid (though of course it was with Sirius' money) and then he held up the photo again. 'So - have you seen him?'

'We're getting a lot of tourists in at the minute - ready for the festival of Mad Meg.'

'Who?'

The barman nodded his head out to the centre of the town square, where there stood a great, bronze statue of a rather wild looking witch. 'Mad Meg - led an army into hell, so legend has it. It's her festival in a couple of days - that's why the brass band are practising.'

And indeed, out under the statue, there was a largish huddle of witches and wizards all clutching brass instruments and making an out of tune racket.

'Well - Peter wouldn't be here for the festival,' Sirius said. 'He'll just be passing through - probably looking twitchy, kind of sweaty and nervous. Glancing over his shoulder a lot …'

'Sorry - not seen him. There's too many people for me to keep track.'

Disappointed, they nodded their thanks and carried their drinks over to a table. Through the window they could see a group of young witches decorating the statue of Mad Meg in floral garlands - and a group of young wizards building a float shaped like a demon and enchanting it to breathe fire. The brass band squawked on.

'So - we try the cafes next?' Sirius asked.

'If he's been anywhere it will probably have been for food - he's unlikely to stop and browse in Quality Quidditch Supplies.'

'Maybe try some of the other hostels - as well. He might have stopped overnight.'

'Good idea.'

They drank in companionable silence for a while - watching the preparations for the festival outside their window until: 'Ministry Hag, Ministry Hag!' Remus spat his butterbeer out and grabbed at Sirius to get his attention. He somehow managed to grab his thigh … but he didn't have time to feel confused or embarrassed or wonder if Sirius had thought anything of it before there was a black dog sitting next to him. He tried to rearrange his face so he looked calm and unruffled just in case ...

… and sure enough toadface spotted him.

'So silly of me,' she said, coming over - her tone still tooth rottingly sweet, 'but why do you have two bottles of butterbeer?'

'One for now, one for later. The bar is too busy to go back to. It would take too much time.'

She made a sniffy little hmp hmp noise and then walked off. Once she was lost in the crowd, Sirius transformed back. 'I really don't like her,' he said - glowering in the general direction she had left in.

'I get the feeling she feels the same way about us.'

'Yeah but - we try and leave her alone. If she hates us so much - why does she keep following us?'

'I think she knows something's up.'

'You think she suspects?'

'What? That my overly familiar pet dog, Padfoot - who can't stay in his own bed - is secretly infamous mass-murderer Sirius Black? I'd be impressed if she suspected that - she'd deserve to catch us if she was that good. No - I think she just gets a vibe that we're up to no good. We look disreputable.'

'Well - I am a mass-murderer. And you are a werewolf. It's only to be expected that we don't look like upstanding citizens.'

'Do you actually count as a mass-murderer if you never even killed anyone?'

'Alright - maybe not … but you are definitely a werewolf.'

They both laughed - and it took Remus a while to notice that, now Sirius was back in human form again, Remus' hand was back on the other man's leg. He was unconsciously rubbing it. And Sirius hadn't said anything…

He snatched his hand away, and earned himself a funny look - which he chose to ignore by taking a long gulp of his butterbeer … But he could feel himself blushing - all red hot and sweaty.