Chapter 2: Mourning
Scratch. Snuffle. Screeeeeeeeech!!
Remus was startled awake.
What the bloody hell could be both awake and functional at this hour? Save lethifolds, he added to himself, shuddering.
He put a robe on over his shorts and lit his wand softly, not caring to irritate the perpetrator of the horrendous noise any further. Then he hesitantly sniffed at the air, trying to sense where and what the disturbance was coming from. He found himself facing upward at the ceiling, where Buckbeak's room lay situated in the great mansion. Of course, he thought. Buckbeak.
He walked out of his bedroom, toward the staircase. As he walked he thought to himself how strange it was to hear the great Hippogriff making such a fuss. Since Sirius died he hadn't really seemed to notice anything about his surroundings. The Order had tried to feed him, but for the most part he avoided it, consuming only enough to sustain life. Perhaps he had been noisier these past few nights; Remus wouldn't have known. This was his first night in Black Manor as a coherent human being, the change having rendered him helpless for the time being.
Startled out of his reverie by another piercing screech, Remus finally reached the door to the room Buckbeak occupied, hesitating to open it. Turning the doorknob, he held his wand out in front of him cautiously.
What he saw, however, touched him, and he lowered his means of defense as he walked towards the enormous pile of straw in the middle of the great room. Buckbeak was sprawled out on top, asleep but tossing about violently. It reminded Remus both of a dog dreaming of a chase and of a child having a night terror. The creature would be perfectly, disturbingly still for a few moments. Then, without warning, he would lash out at the air with his talons and at the ground with his hoofs, and would periodically throw his head back and scream desperately, and yet was miraculously unaware of all of it and didn't wake himself up. Finally he would lapse back into a few minutes of quiet before starting over again.
Remus watched him for ten minutes or so, noting his behavioral patterns and thinking back to his Advanced Care of Magical Creatures classes at school and his readings on animal behavioral psychology. But nothing in his experience had ever involved Hipogriffs with sleeping disorders.
Throwing caution to the wind, Remus at last strode over to the suffering creature and ran a hand along his spine. Buckbeak shuddered, then made half a move to scratch at the air before lowering his talon sleepily. He seemed to murmur in his sleep a bit, but Remus found that overall his motions to soothe the hipogriff payed off. Once or twice he let out a full-fledged screech, causing Remus to back up and extend his wand warily, but this lasted merely a moment and he once again drifted off.
Believing the animal to be calmed, Remus yawned and stood up from where he knelt, turning around towards the door. But as he did, he noticed something lying half-covered in straw. Bending down to investigate, he saw that it was a large picture frame. He picked it up and brushed the straw and dust away.
There facing him was a young, dark-haired, smiling man on a broomstick, whizzing in and out of the picture. He recognized the man immediately as Sirius, some sixteen years before. His heart began to thump against his throat as tears struggled to fight their way out of his blinking eyes. He forced himself to look at the picture, fearing that he would one day forget that face and the happiness it had once contained. He looked at it, and then he noticed that another figure was present in the image.
A little girl, six or seven years old and clad in a bright green flowered tunic and trainers, was riding in front of Sirius, who towered over her as he wrapped his strong arms around her tiny waist. She was laughing, too, Remus saw, as she swung up to tremendous heights and then plummeted again, Sirius keeping his firm grip on the broomstick's handle to protect them both from touching the ground. Her hair changed color in midair, going from dark red to blinding neon green to match her tunic. Then they escaped past the edge of the frame, only to return five seconds later, to relive the whole scene.
Remus could hear Sirius's hearty laughter and Tonks's high-pitched shrieks. He remembered every detail of that afternoon. He remembered how Tonks had begged Sirius to take her up on the broom, and how Sirius had pretended not to want to, and how Remus had secretly known that Sirius would have liked nothing better, because he adored the living daylight out of his wee cousin. He remembered how, after they finally dismounted, Tonks had hit the ground running and traipsed about the Quidditch pitch with unlimited energy, forcing her cousin and his friend to run after her breathlessly. And he remembered how, once Sirius caught up with her (Remus having fallen behind several yards back), he had tackled her and began mercilessly tickling her, drawing more shrill giggles from her. He even remembered developing the film, and watching the expressions on their faces blossom merrily as they engaged in their aerial dance.
He lowered the picture frame back to the ground, where Buckbeak could see it when he woke up. He didn't know if it was healthy for the hippogriff to mourn like this, but then, what did he know?
A tear slowly escaped from the corner of his eye and fell upon his lips as he made his way back to his bedchamber. He removed his robe and lay atop his coverlet, letting the bitter air bite and nip at his bare skin as he nodded off.
Within a few hours the morning sunlight came trickling in through the curtains.
Scratch. Snuffle. Screeeeeeeeech!!
Remus was startled awake.
What the bloody hell could be both awake and functional at this hour? Save lethifolds, he added to himself, shuddering.
He put a robe on over his shorts and lit his wand softly, not caring to irritate the perpetrator of the horrendous noise any further. Then he hesitantly sniffed at the air, trying to sense where and what the disturbance was coming from. He found himself facing upward at the ceiling, where Buckbeak's room lay situated in the great mansion. Of course, he thought. Buckbeak.
He walked out of his bedroom, toward the staircase. As he walked he thought to himself how strange it was to hear the great Hippogriff making such a fuss. Since Sirius died he hadn't really seemed to notice anything about his surroundings. The Order had tried to feed him, but for the most part he avoided it, consuming only enough to sustain life. Perhaps he had been noisier these past few nights; Remus wouldn't have known. This was his first night in Black Manor as a coherent human being, the change having rendered him helpless for the time being.
Startled out of his reverie by another piercing screech, Remus finally reached the door to the room Buckbeak occupied, hesitating to open it. Turning the doorknob, he held his wand out in front of him cautiously.
What he saw, however, touched him, and he lowered his means of defense as he walked towards the enormous pile of straw in the middle of the great room. Buckbeak was sprawled out on top, asleep but tossing about violently. It reminded Remus both of a dog dreaming of a chase and of a child having a night terror. The creature would be perfectly, disturbingly still for a few moments. Then, without warning, he would lash out at the air with his talons and at the ground with his hoofs, and would periodically throw his head back and scream desperately, and yet was miraculously unaware of all of it and didn't wake himself up. Finally he would lapse back into a few minutes of quiet before starting over again.
Remus watched him for ten minutes or so, noting his behavioral patterns and thinking back to his Advanced Care of Magical Creatures classes at school and his readings on animal behavioral psychology. But nothing in his experience had ever involved Hipogriffs with sleeping disorders.
Throwing caution to the wind, Remus at last strode over to the suffering creature and ran a hand along his spine. Buckbeak shuddered, then made half a move to scratch at the air before lowering his talon sleepily. He seemed to murmur in his sleep a bit, but Remus found that overall his motions to soothe the hipogriff payed off. Once or twice he let out a full-fledged screech, causing Remus to back up and extend his wand warily, but this lasted merely a moment and he once again drifted off.
Believing the animal to be calmed, Remus yawned and stood up from where he knelt, turning around towards the door. But as he did, he noticed something lying half-covered in straw. Bending down to investigate, he saw that it was a large picture frame. He picked it up and brushed the straw and dust away.
There facing him was a young, dark-haired, smiling man on a broomstick, whizzing in and out of the picture. He recognized the man immediately as Sirius, some sixteen years before. His heart began to thump against his throat as tears struggled to fight their way out of his blinking eyes. He forced himself to look at the picture, fearing that he would one day forget that face and the happiness it had once contained. He looked at it, and then he noticed that another figure was present in the image.
A little girl, six or seven years old and clad in a bright green flowered tunic and trainers, was riding in front of Sirius, who towered over her as he wrapped his strong arms around her tiny waist. She was laughing, too, Remus saw, as she swung up to tremendous heights and then plummeted again, Sirius keeping his firm grip on the broomstick's handle to protect them both from touching the ground. Her hair changed color in midair, going from dark red to blinding neon green to match her tunic. Then they escaped past the edge of the frame, only to return five seconds later, to relive the whole scene.
Remus could hear Sirius's hearty laughter and Tonks's high-pitched shrieks. He remembered every detail of that afternoon. He remembered how Tonks had begged Sirius to take her up on the broom, and how Sirius had pretended not to want to, and how Remus had secretly known that Sirius would have liked nothing better, because he adored the living daylight out of his wee cousin. He remembered how, after they finally dismounted, Tonks had hit the ground running and traipsed about the Quidditch pitch with unlimited energy, forcing her cousin and his friend to run after her breathlessly. And he remembered how, once Sirius caught up with her (Remus having fallen behind several yards back), he had tackled her and began mercilessly tickling her, drawing more shrill giggles from her. He even remembered developing the film, and watching the expressions on their faces blossom merrily as they engaged in their aerial dance.
He lowered the picture frame back to the ground, where Buckbeak could see it when he woke up. He didn't know if it was healthy for the hippogriff to mourn like this, but then, what did he know?
A tear slowly escaped from the corner of his eye and fell upon his lips as he made his way back to his bedchamber. He removed his robe and lay atop his coverlet, letting the bitter air bite and nip at his bare skin as he nodded off.
Within a few hours the morning sunlight came trickling in through the curtains.