Here's more fict! I sat up until one o'clock this morning to finish it - can't say I don't sacrfice things for you, can you? ;)I believe Cassandra Claire's Draco-series also has a band called Incantation, but I only remembered that after I'd come up with it myself, so it's not really stolen. The lyrics are mine, and you will see that I'm absolutely horrible at writing songs.
I won't say any more before I give too much away, so here's the new chapter! It contains some strong language but nothing really really bad.

May 1995.

"You are not Sirius' only correspondent," said Dumbledore. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year."

* * * * *

And I'm supposed to know who the Gaols are and who Julius Caesar is?

Thank you very much for the article, by the way, it was very informative. I hadn't read it before (obviously) and it gave me a clearer image of exactly what had happened. I did ask Dumbledore about it, but as usually he responded with a long-winded answer that was so vague it wasn't an answer at all. Darn that man. I guess I just have to keep bugging him. Fortunately, I apparently used to be quite good at that (right?).

Padfoot.

* * * * *

The black record did a soft 'shh' when Remus slit it out of the sleeve. Carefully holding the record by the edges as not to leave fingerprints on it and ruin it, he put it on the record player and placed the needle in the middle. Even though it had been a while, his fingers almost reflexively found the first number. A high-pitched screeching immediately blasted through the room, and Monster quickly hid under the sofa.

"Don't worry," Remus told his pet, rather hoarsely (another Change had passed, and it something had this effect on his voice). "It's not a real Banshee. It's just a record."

The screeching was replaced by four singers, wailing mournfully. Then a depressing song started, telling the tale of a man who was afraid to go home after he had heard a Banshee cry, because he knew that meant someone had died, and he was afraid to find out who it was. Remus hummed along with it, picked up his broom (the Muggle version, not one for flying) and started sweeping the kitchen floor. Monster saw what he was doing and happily emerged from under the sofa to sit right in front of the brush of the broom and be swept around the kitchen, his favourite past-time when Remus was sweeping the floor. Remus gave the broom a good sweep and Monster slid over the floor, bouncing against the walls. The record gave an almost inaudible creak and went on to play the second number.

The music was that of Incantation, a wizard band from the seventies and the most popular band among Remus' generation. Listening to it meant you were officially old, stuffy and grown-up. Had Harry been raised in the wizard world, he would have rolled his eyes in disgust at his parents and their friends listening to 'that stuff'. Granted, the Weird Sisters were rather good too, Remus had to admit that, but there was nothing like Incantation. Children nowadays just didn't recognise good music when they heard it (Remus suddenly had vague memories of his own parents announcing that jazz was way better than 'that stuff' Remus and his brother were listening to, but he quickly repressed those thoughts).

The third number started, Remus' favourite. He gave Monster another sweep through the room and loudly sang along with the song. It wasn't just that this number was – predictably enough – about werewolves (according to the Marauders it was "your own private song Moony!"), but there was also a nice little bit with howling wolves which was wonderful to sing along to. But only in private or with a whole lot of other people singing along, of course.

"Werewolf in the forest, howling to the moon," he sang. "Werewolf in the forest, the sound of impending doom… dumdeedum." Monster got another sweep. "Your scream in my ears, your flesh between my teeth, your blood on my face, it's on you I feed – is it just me or are those lyrics extremely disturbing?"

The four singers ignored Remus, however, and burst out in a long howling that was almost identical to that of a real wolf. Monster came to a skidding halt and stared in wonder up at the very human Remus. It wasn't right: he heard a wolf but saw a human Remus.

"I told you, it's a record," Remus told the animal. "It's not real."

The song ended it another howl, which echoed around the room, and then the fourth number started. It was a hard-rock version of the Hogwarts school song, sung in honour of the seven years the four singers had spend at the magical school, and Remus remembered how, on one memorable feast, almost the entire school had sung this version – with Dumbledore happily conducting them and singing along. And he also remembered that McGonagall's lips had suddenly seemed thinner than usual. Apparently not a fan either.

He gave the broom a final sweep and decided that the floor was clean enough. Monster sadly purred when Remus put the broom away. But he was ignored, and he scurried off to find something else to do.

Remus wished he could find something else to do as well, but he already had an appointment. By now, the whole 'cure for werewolves'-thing had got really annoying. Not so much the happening itself, but rather the fact that Remus was simply too polite and too nice to break the news that it wasn't working. Another Change had come and went, and still nothing had happened. He had to make an end to it before it got awkward. More awkward than it already was, at the very least.

"Today's resolution," he muttered, "tell Ruth and Sabina to bugger off." The wording wasn't that polite, perhaps, but hopefully it was harsh enough to make him remember and actually do it instead of it being – once again – a promise never fulfilled.

He nearly didn't do it. When he sat down (again in a small restaurant) and saw them smiling politely at them, genuinely still thinking that their way was the way, he didn't really have the heart to tell them.

How can a man who turns into a snarling monster once a month be such a softy at heart? he wondered. He really was too nice for his own good.

Remus had always had the habit of pretending he wasn't there whenever he felt bad or if something wasn't as he'd liked it. He'd rather run and hide than fight. And that was why he was now sitting hunched over his tea and apple-pie, his horns drawn in, pretending he wasn't there and hoping the others didn't notice him. Pity really that it was so hard to avoid attention in a group of only six persons.

"Well," Sabina broke the silence. "How is everything going?" She seemed almost ridiculously cheerful.

Remus glanced sideways to the Mills family. Fay was stirring her chocolatemilk, avoiding anyone's eyes much like he had tried to do himself. Her parents seemed uncomfortable as well, and they were nervously shifting in their seats.

"Everything's going excellent," Mrs Mills finally said, albeit a bit hesitantly. Remus sighed. So it really was up to him now. He gritted his teeth and gave himself a mental kick. If he was going to burst their bubble, he'd better do it quickly.

"Yes, excellent," he said, "given the fact that I Changed again a few days ago, just like the past few months."

Silence.

"What?" Sabina said eventually. Remus found five pairs of eyes on him. It was almost enough to make him deny everything he'd said. But he had to go on now. He'd said A, now it was time to say the rest of the alphabet as well. Unfortunately enough, he thought.

"Like I said," he said, mumbling a bit. He didn't like doing this at all. "I changed into a werewolf, just like last month, and the month before that, and so on." 

"But… we thought…" Sabina stuttered. Ruth seemed too lost for words to say anything. "Didn't it work? The meditation and relaxation, I mean?"

"Uh, no," Remus admitted.

"But why didn't you tell us?" Exactly the question he had been dreading the most.

"Because…" he said, then hesitated. How was he going to say this in a nice way? "Because we were all too… polite. Uhm. Well, we… Uhm. Because we didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Fay's parents nodded their silent consent, but Remus would have liked it better if they'd speak up and help him out.

"Oh," Sabina replied. Both she and Ruth looked rather disappointed, and Remus couldn't really blame them.

"You see, all that meditating and all only worked the other way around," he hurried to explain. "Instead of making the Wolf inside weaker, it seemed to get stronger. That's why we were looking so… odd, a couple of weeks ago. There was no control, the Wolf was sort of free to come out."

"Oh." The six of them were silent for a few moments. Remus felt slightly guilty, but at the same time rather… happy. At least he'd spoken up.

"So… it really didn't work?" Sabina asked, still a bit hopeful against better judgement.

"No," he admitted. "It really didn't work. I'm not sure if there even is a cure. I'm sorry." For what actually? he thought. 'I'm sorry' was one of those phrases that rolled too easily off his tongue.

A long silence followed. Mr and Mrs Mills seemed too embarrassed to say anything and Sabina and Ruth were still recovering from the shock. Remus glanced at Fay, who smiled back at him. The whole awkward conversation appeared to have gone right over her head.

"Okay," Sabina finally broke the silence with a half-sigh. She literally seemed to pick herself together, then straightened her back and smiled. "Well, that's a disappointment." Remus had to admire the way she faced his disappointing announcement. He decided it was a bad idea to tell them at he'd known it wouldn't work all along – he figured that saying 'I told you so!' wasn't the most tactical thing to do.

The tense atmosphere slowly got less, but never really disappeared. Sabina and Ruth left pretty soon afterwards, claiming they had somewhere else to go to. They parted with farewells and 'perhaps we'll meet again!'s none of them really meant. When the Mills family and Remus were along again, they looked at one another and almost simultaneously let out a sigh.

"I believe we should thank you for saying that," Mrs Mills said. Her husband nodded.

"It was time someone did it," he said, "but, like you said, we were all too polite."

Remus nodded vaguely. He suddenly felt tired. Telling someone the truth turned out to be quite an exhausting experience.

"I think it's time we go as well," Mrs Mills announced. The four of them got to their feet and walked outside. For the last time, Remus was them toward their car. Fay was walking next to him, more serious than usual. She had realised that this was probably the last time she saw Remus.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, looking up at him.   

"I don't know," he said. "Go home, and… do the same as usual, I think. What are you going to do?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. Go to school, I guess."

"And to Hogwarts, in a few years."  

Her smile lit up her whole face. "Yes!" Just the thought of the wizard school made her skip.

"And then?" he asked. "Work on the Wolfsbane Potion to improve the taste? You would do us both a favour."

"I think I want to do something with dragons," she said seriously, a slight frown on her face. "Do you know if they got dragons at Hogwarts?"

"I think not," he said pensively. "They used to have them for the Triwizard, but I think they're back… home now." Wherever that may be.

"Pity," was Fay's comment. Remus had a feeling Hagrid would agree with her.

They reached the Mills' car, and Fay's father unlocked the door. Her parents already got in, but Fay – rather unexpectedly – threw her arms around Remus' waist (she barely reached higher) and gave him a tight hug. Remus picked her up so that she could put her arms around his neck instead.

"What's this all about?" he asked.

"Miss you," she answered softly. This made him smile.

"Miss me? What's there to miss about me?" Her yellow eyes, now so close to his, gave him the answer: someone who is just like me.

He gave her a hug back, but said almost in spite of that: "now, this won't do. Your parents are already waiting for you. C'mon, you're going to go home, and in a few years you'll go to Hogwarts. And who knows, maybe I'll come and check on you to see if you haven't changed into a little Snape by then."

She wrinkled her nose but laughed nonetheless, a laugh that was shy and a little sad. It made Remus instinctively do something he had done with only five people before. He bowed his head towards her, carefully took her jaw between his teeth and gently shook her head.

It was a wolf's equivalent of a kiss goodbye, and so far he'd only done it, in wolf-form, with Padfoot and Prongs, and with his parents and brother in human form. It was a very intimate, loving gesture, but he had learned to stop doing it when it kept freaking people out – his muggle-born mother had nearly knocked him off the bed when he had climbed in one morning, only months after the Bite, to greet her this way.

But Fay didn't seem surprised or unnerved. On the contrary: she nudged his cheek with her nose, a little cub greeting an older wolf. It was so instinctively, it felt so natural, they were absorbed in their own little world and both started when Fay's mother called her name.

She had climbed half out of the car again, one foot still in it. There was a slightly concerned frown on her face.

Remus put Fay back on the ground again and gave her a nudge towards the car. "C'mon, time to go," he said. She obediently climbed in the back of the car and fastened her seatbelt. Remus smiled reassuringly at Mrs Mills, who gave a smile back and took her seat again. Her husband turned on the engine and started to drive away. Fay turned around, waving at Remus. He waved back until they turned around a corner, out of sight.

Then he Apparated home.

~*~

Sirius had decided to clean his cave. Granted, there wasn't much to clean, but he thought he might as well do it anyway. It would give him something to do before nightfall, before he went to bed.

He gathered his old, tattered plastic bags together. They were nearly falling apart, and the handles were torn so that he had to hold them by the edge of the bag, which was rather awkward.

He unpacked them (that is, he turned them upside down above his bed) and started sorting his stuff out. The bits of moulting bread he had saved for when he was getting desperate, old napkins and old useless newspapers all went on his 'throw away'-pile. The papers with important news, all Dumbledore´s, Harry's and Remus' letters, the roadmap and the edible food were all carefully piled on his bed. He stuffed the waste in one of the plastic bags and that bag in another bag until he had used them all, and stored it in a corner of his cave until he'd throw it away, later on the day. Then he picked up the rucksack Remus had given him, months ago. He had cleverly transformed it into a pillow (recipe: take a rucksack of relatively soft material and an old Azkaban uniform. Put uniform in the rucksack. Fold handles of rucksack over front. Rest head on back of rucksack. Sleep) but he decided that the uniform without the rucksack was as good a pillow as with it. Sirius only hoped that the rucksack really was waterproof, as Remus had claimed it was.

He packed the newspapers, the letters, the map and the food in the rucksack and carefully put it next to his bed, where he would easily notice it if it was gone.

He walked to the plastic bag with trash and picked it up again. He stood there thinking for a moment, his back turned towards the large opening on the Hogwarts-side of the cave. A soft, warm breeze was coming through it, playing with his long tangled hair, but he didn't notice it. How was he going to get this bag into Hogsmeade in Padfoot-form? He couldn't carry it in his mouth without a handle.

"Good afternoon Sirius."

The following happened pretty much all at once. Buckbeak let out a shriek and scrambled to his feet. Sirius' heart skipped a beat and he staggered forward, headlong into the painfully solid wall of the cave. He cursed violently and turned around, but the light coming in through the opening blinded him. He could only see a tall, rather thin man.

"Get back!" he shouted. "I have a wand and am absolutely not afraid to use it!" I have a plastic bag with waste and am not afraid to use it, more like, he thought. Bloody, bloody, bloody f-cking bugger sh-t from hell. He was frantically racking his brain, trying to find a way to get out of here, or at least die in a respectable way, not with his back against the wall.

The stranger didn't seem affected by Sirius' bluff, however. He walked into the cave, one of his hands raised and outstretched as if he was trying to calm Sirius. The sunlight caught a few strands of a long beard, which shone silvery in the light.

Beard? Silver beard?

The image gallery that was Sirius' memory rushed through thousands of pictures at topspeed, and finally settled on two options: Dumbledore or Father Christmas. Since it was hardly the season for sleigh rides, reindeer and Christmas presents (although he wouldn't refuse a present if he got offered one), Sirius decided that this was indeed the Hogwarts Headmaster.

He slid along the wall onto the floor. "Bloody hell."

Dumbledore crouched besides him, smiling. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realised it would give you such a fright."

Sirius stared back at him. "No, it's just that I… just… bloody hell." He was still gasping for breath, and those two words were at the moment the only thing he could say, or even think. Dumbledore waited patiently beside him until he had recovered.

"Can you please knock, next time?" Sirius said finally. "Or, you know, give me a heads up? Notify me? Send me a letter? A memo? Anything?"

Dumbledore helped the still shaking Sirius to his feet. "To tell you the truth, as of this morning I had no idea I would be visiting you," the elder man confessed. Sirius had steady ground under his feet again and Dumbledore let go of his arm.

"What? Why? There isn't an emergency, is there?" he wanted to know.

"No, nothing life-threatening so far," Dumbledore shushed.

"'So far'?" Sirius repeated.

"I've seen more and more signs that something might happen, that something is actually very likely to happen, and that Harry will be the centre of it."

Sirius let out a heartfelt "bugger". If Dumbledore was taking offence at this, he didn't show it.

Buckbeak, at ease again, ruffled his feathers, drawing Sirius back to the here-and-now, and to more important matters. At the moment anyway.

"Er, have you already bowed for Buckbeak?" he asked. "I don't want to risk you getting ripped apart."

"No, I haven't done that yet, but thank you for the attentive thought," Dumbledore said gracefully. He walked to Buckbeak and bowed equally as gracefully for the animal, who almost immediately sunk through his knees. It was the fastest Sirius had ever seen him react to a bow.

"Great," he said. "Uhm, I'm afraid I don't have any seats or anything…" With Remus and Harry he hadn't bothered about seating, but there was something about Dumbledore that made you scurry about to make him feel comfortable. Almost as if you were being visited by the Minister for Magic (or the Queen, or the president, depending on where you lived).

"Oh, don't worry about that," Dumbledore said lightly. He took out his wand and sketched something in mid-air. Two chairs and a table appeared out of thin air and soundlessly fell on the floor.

"Wow," Sirius said.

"Take a seat," Dumbledore offered.

Sirius was slightly hesitant about taking a seat. He tried to remember the last time he had sat on a chair, but he found it a really hard job. The last time was probably at Remus' house, he thought, at the end of the summer. And before that – in Flitwick's office, two months before that, when they'd locked me up again. And before that… I can't remember.

He slowly pulled the chair back and sat down, carefully as if the chair could explode any minute. Dumbledore sat down as well and waved his wand again. This time a teatray with a silver teapot, two cups and a bowl of biscuits appeared. Little did Sirius know that the Headmaster had done the same in Hagrid's hut, a few months previously, in Harry's presence.

"Do you take sugar in your tea?" he asked as if this was just an ordinary teaparty in an ordinary house with two ordinary persons with ordinary lives.

"Uhm, I guess so," Sirius said hesitantly. "Two lumps please."

Dumbledore poured tea in the cups, added sugar and a spoon and handed Sirius his cup. Sirius sat there a bit awkwardly, stirring his tea, eyeing the bowl of biscuits longingly. Dumbledore finally pushed the bowl towards him.

"Here, take one, they're meant for eating," he said. Sirius took two biscuits; modesty had never been one of his better qualities.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of the wind through the trees, Buckbeak scratching with his talons over the floor, and the soft tinkling of teaspoons against china cups. It gave Sirius enough time to gather his wits together again, and he eventually put his teacup down and said: "so, what's the reason of your visit?"

Dumbledore carefully brushed the crumbs from his beard and only spoke when he was finished. "Like I said," he said, "I have heard more and more signs that something is going to happen, something big, and it involves Voldemort."

"Wormtail," Sirius said. His guess wasn't that wild. Ever since he knew Peter was still alive, he knew that he would somehow go back to Voldemort and help him back to full power, no matter how. Peter was one of those persons who needed someone stronger to look after him. The Marauders were out of the question now, especially after what he had done to the Potters. Everybody else thought he was dead, the Death Eaters (those who knew that Peter was one of them anyway) thought he was the one who had led Voldemort to the Potters and to his downfall – Voldemort was really the only one Peter had left to go to.

"You said there were signs," he said. "What signs?"

Dumbledore put his cup down as well. "You asked me a few weeks ago about something Harry had seen, that Igor Karkaroff was showing Severus something on his arm."

Sirius nodded eagerly. Finally an actual answer? He hoped so. 

"What he was showing him," the Headmaster continued, "was the Dark Mark. Oh, no, not the one they used to conjured after another successful raid," he said, seeing Sirius' expression. "You see, every Death Eater has a tattoo of the Dark Mark on his left forearm. The Dark Lord brands – "

Sirius pulled a face. It made him think of horses and cattle with a brand on their flank.

"Yes, I think I can call it that. He brands it there himself when they have sworn their vows to him. The Dark Mark is then used as a signal; when Voldemort touches the Mark of any of his followers, the Marks of the others begin to burn and they know they are to come to his side. Now, after that fateful Halloween in 1981, when Harry defeated Voldemort, the Death Eater's Marks got fainter and eventually disappeared. That was one of the things that made some people – " Dumbledore smiled wryly " – believe Voldemort was truly dead. But last year, roughly since last summer, the Dark Mark has been coming back on at least two people."

"Snape and Karkaroff were Death Eaters," Sirius whispered. He wanted to scream. This was impossible. It was bizarre. It was so enormously brilliant and complicated it almost couldn't be true.

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus has been one of the few Death Eaters who turned back to our side before Voldemort disappeared, and he has been a great source of information. He informed me of his returning Mark almost the instant it happened, and this morning he reported that it was now as clear as it had been on the height of Voldemort's power."

At the moment, Sirius couldn't care less about Snape's obscure tattoos. The man himself intrigued him more. Or irked him more, rather. "Snape turned back to our side?" he said incredulously. If there was something he could not picture Snape doing, it was that. "Why?"

Dumbledore merely looked at him and Sirius gritted his teeth.

"Okay, then don't tell me," he said.

"Severus Snape has been working for me at great personal risk," Dumbledore said calmly. "The least I can do to repay him is to keep that what he has told me in great confidence, confident."

Sirius hated secrets.

"Right," he said, impatiently waving his hand. "So his Mark is coming back, and it means Voldemort is getting stronger, right? What does that mean for Harry?"

"It means," Dumbledore said, still impossible calm, "that there is a very big chance that Voldemort will soon attempt to harm Harry. So far, the boy has been protected by the spell activated by Lily's sacrifice of her life for him, but I'm afraid I do not know how much longer that spell will last, or if, and how, it can be broken. It is ancient magic, and not much is known about it."

"Hmm," Sirius said, pensively chewing his lower lip. "And of course breaking the spell means Harry's in big trouble."

"Bigger than he can most likely handle," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Bugger," Sirius said once again.

"Quite."

Sirius didn't even hear the Headmaster agree with him; he was too much lost in thoughts. He finally said: "if I were Voldemort…" He silenced. Dumbledore waited patiently until Sirius spoke again. "If I were Voldemort, I would somehow use the Triwizard to get close to Harry. Because there are a lot of strangers in the school anyway, and one more or less won't get noticed." 

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "And apart from that – " he smiled, faintly amused " – if Voldemort has one flaw, it is that he is too fond of putting on a big show. Getting his full power back on the evening of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament is too good a change to miss, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm. But of course, you have already taken precautions, haven't you? There's Moody, and – " he had to force himself to say it " – Snape. I do hope they keep an eye out as well."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Alastor has told me that he would see it if anyone was trying to sneak into the castle using an Invisibility Cloak, or any kind of disguise for that matter, and so far he has seen no such thing."

"Seen?" Sirius echoed. "How can you simply see such a thing?"

"A few months after you were send to prison, Alastor lost an eye in a duel with a few particularly persistent Death Eaters. He decided to substitute it with a magical eye which can see through everything," Dumbledore explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Ah. Okay." Everything? a tiny voice in Sirius' head asked, but he gave that tiny voice a not-so-tiny kick and told it to shut up. "Well," he said, scratching his head. "Then I wouldn't know of anything else, actually."

"You are not the only one. One would almost wish that Voldemort was operating relatively out in the open again, so that our spies could infiltrate his organisation."

"Almost," Sirius smiled wryly.

Dumbledore took a large golden watch from his pocket, studied it for a moment and got to his feet. "I'm afraid I must be going again. Other appointments that can't wait." He looked at the table. "Shall I leave this?"

"Does it vanish in a few hours?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Then get rid of it," Sirius said, waving his hand as if he was waving a wand himself. Dumbledore took out his real wand, carefully handed Sirius the last few biscuits and made the table and chairs disappear again.

"Oh, by the way, Headmaster," Sirius said, suddenly reminded of something when he saw the long, thin wand. "Have you already talked to Olivander about a wand? I feel pretty helpless without one, actually." He felt pretty helpless asking for a wand too, come to think of it.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, "but I think it better if you take care of that this summer, when Harry is hopefully back at his family's house. Even though it will most likely not take longer than a day, I think it's better that you stay here."

"Sure," Sirius said, although he felt a bit peeved that he still had to wait a few months. "No problem."

Dumbledore nodded, patted Buckbeak on his beak and walked outside. A Thestral was tied to a small, deformed tree. Even though it regarded Sirius calmly, the sight of the animal was still unnerving.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts shook Sirius' hand, then he lightly swung a leg over the Thestral's back. He gently pulled the reigns, which immediately slipped loose from the knot. The Thestral threw its head back and Sirius involuntary did a step back.

"Perhaps I´ll see you later," Dumbledore said.

"Let's hope not, because that most likely means trouble," Sirius said dryly. Dumbledore prodded the Thestral with his heels and the animal spread it's dragonish wings and set of. Sirius imagined for a moment what it must look like for someone who couldn't see the Thestral – Dumbledore floating in mid-air, sitting as if on a horse, his silver beard floating behind him like a banner.

Pretty soon, the Headmaster was only a tiny dot. Sirius could just see him descent again, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, then he disappeared.

* * * * *

Julius Caesar? Hello? The history of the Roman empire? Does that ring a bell?

Gee, and I thought you knew something. Or perhaps it's because of my name that I have an extra interest in this subject (I´ll hit you if your next letter contains the phrase "name? What about it?"!).

Excellent judge of your own character, by the way. Yes, you were/are annoying, but that's not always a bad thing. Especially in cases such as these – I know everything about how vague and avoiding Dumbledore can be, and he sometimes simply deserves being bugged.

Moony.