Chapter 5: Cave Canem
Lord Voldemort was annoyed.
No, not annoyed. That doesn't sound sinister enough. I do have my reputation to think of, after all. Dark Lords do not get annoyed. Dark Lords... become displeased.
Very well. Lord Voldemort was displeased.
That sounds better.
There had been some kind of spirit haunting Malfoy Manor for nearly a week and a half. It was not clearly visible to everyone, so it wasn't a ghost, and it hadn't done anything physical or caused any mischief, so it wasn't a poltergeist. There were several rather hazy classes of spiritual beings it could have been, but one rule generally applied to all of them: Ignore it and it will eventually go away.
So he had ignored it, even when it began to become apparent to some of his followers, even to a talentless little snip like Wormtail.
Who was currently missing.
Nothing in his room had been taken, except his cloak, so it seemed unlikely that he'd run off. There was no sign of a struggle, no sound had been heard, so kidnapping also seemed doubtful, besides being ludicrous. If anyone could break into the headquarters of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, they would be powerful enough to challenge the Dark Lord himself, instead of being satisfied with an underling.
Especially such an underling as Wormtail. He brought me what I needed in the past, but perhaps he has outlived his usefulness...
Of course, if he didn't return, it was a moot point.
Could the little sneak have deserted, turning informer to Dumbledore and his fools?
He turned his coat once. He might do it again.
To be on the safe side, Voldemort decided, he should act as if Wormtail had gone over to the enemy.
Which means changing every plan he knew about. Including the attack on Privet Drive.
He waved his wand, incanting "Morsmordre Arcesso!" and tiny copies of the Dark Mark darted in every direction, seeking his followers, to tell them they were wanted.
When they were all gathered, he told them his conclusions, and his decision.
"We will attack, not at sunset, but at dawn of that day. Change your plans accordingly."
He noticed Severus looking a bit jumpy and made a mental note to keep the man by his side for the next two days and monitor where and to whom he tried to send owls or firecall.
A perfect opportunity to see where his loyalties really lie.
Yes, even without Wormtail, this could still prove to be a successful venture, in more ways than one...
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There are days I wish my Animagus form wasn't quite so noticeable.
Sirius was attracting something of a crowd as he wandered through London. He wasn't lost, exactly, but he was looking for something, or rather someone, who moved around a lot from day to day, even within days. Someone who might not even be on the street at all, but down in the Underground.
I always wonder if Muggles can even read. They put up all these signs telling you what you're not allowed to do, and then people go right ahead and ignore them.
He stopped to listen. A stray breeze was bringing him sounds and scents from a tiny park ahead.
Ah-ha!
He had found what he was looking for. The melancholy wail of a violin, combined with the musky scent of a werewolf.
Only one combination like that in London. Remus Lupin, street busker.
Carefully, he circled the park, peering in from every direction. Finally he spotted his target. Remus was standing near a fountain, looking properly tragic for the piece he was playing, which was full of long, sighing notes and upward runs that never quite seemed to be completed properly.
He looks terrible. Must have been full moon recently.
Sirius kicked himself mentally. Or, just maybe, he's been grieving, you stupid mutt?
He circled again to come in behind Remus and get a closer look without his friend noticing him. Remus' violin case, open at his feet, contained a scattering of coins and two or three bills, but most of the people walking through the park passed him by with no more than a glance.
Maybe I can change that...
-----
Remus finished his piece and sighed quietly as his tiny audience applauded.
God, Sirius, I miss you so much.
A little girl dropped a few coins into his case and offered him a shy smile. He smiled back – her charm was contagious. All right, Moony, you've had your wallow in self-pity. Time to make a living. Play something cheerful, people always like that.
He started on a fast, rather bouncy piece, forcing himself to keep the music light.
The little girl clapped her hands. "Mummy, Mummy, look at the dancing dog!"
It took every bit of self-control Remus had ever learned not to whip around immediately. His musician's discipline saved the day initially, commanding him not to stop in the middle of the song, and his common sense took over from there.
So there's a dancing dog. Big deal. Probably some little lap dog on a leash, bouncing around on its hind legs. Besides, if it wants to dance, let it – people will come to look, and I might get a better take than usual.
People were certainly coming to look. Already his audience was double what it had been, and as every good busker knew, crowds attract more crowds.
Human beings are always afraid they're missing out on something. So they stop to see what everyone else is seeing.
On a whim, he began to play a little faster, and the crowd gasped and ooh'ed as the dog apparently sped up to match. Remus smiled to himself and increased the speed again. Faster and faster he played, speeding towards the end of the piece, which he reached in record time, with a flourish and a bow.
The crowd broke into applause, and many of them came forward to toss money into the case. Remus nodded and smiled at them all, accepting compliments on his "well-trained animal" and "such a handsome dog". The little girl asked if she could pet it.
"Well, let's see if he'll let you," Remus said, finally turning around.
The dog sitting on the ground panting was a dead ringer for Padfoot.
Dead is right, Remus reminded himself sternly, controlling his insane urge to embrace the creature. Dead and not coming back, no matter what you want.
He cautiously approached the animal. His dual nature made him unusually sensitive to canine troubles, but he wasn't sensing any disease or problems coming from it. It accepted his pat on the head with good grace.
"Yes, I think you can pet him," Remus said to the little girl, who giggled and hurried forward to stroke the dog on the head, then scratch him behind the ears, causing him to go cross-eyed with bliss.
His eyes. Oh, my God, his eyes.
There's no such thing as a gray-eyed dog.
The dog gave him the dopey tongue-lolling grin Sirius always used to pull when he had just done something extremely clever. Then it loped away through the park, leaving Remus severely confused and, for the first time in nearly two weeks, feeling a trace of hope.
It could be just a fluke, he reminded himself. It could be a coincidence. Odd quirks of coloration do happen... it's not totally inconceivable for a normal dog to have gray eyes. Just highly unusual.
But his heart wasn't listening, and it was suddenly easier to play the lighter side of his repertoire with the proper feeling than it had been for a long time.
-----
Albus Dumbledore sighed, leaning against the center pole of the revolving staircase that led to his office in a display of the weakness he could never show in public.
Everyone assumes I'm immortal and infallible, when the truth is I'm just old and sneaky.
The problem with Harry Potter wasn't going to go away, no matter what he had told Minerva. The boy was going to grieve himself into a decline unless they could stop it. Worse, according to the owl he'd just received from Kingsley, they would either have to remove him from Privet Drive too early for the blood protection there to be renewed for another year, or defend it against an all-out attack. Either way, lives would be lost.
More lives, he corrected himself, thinking of Sirius with a twinge of pain. Of all the people we could have lost, he had to be the person Harry loved. Hasn't the boy suffered enough?
But I thought there might be some hope. He had been studying all the information available on the archway, and there was an ancient story, so old it could not be authenticated, of a man who was redeemed from beyond the veil by the sacrifice of another...
The staircase stopped. He stepped off it onto the landing.
I had hoped the manifestation reported by Peeves might be that of Sirius. Its preoccupation with Harry made that possible, even likely. But the sacrifice had to be made by someone who owed the man beyond the veil his life. Since only one person in this world fits that description, and that one is unlikely to be willing to make such a sacrifice...
He opened the door to his office.
Fawkes chirped in welcome and flew to greet him. "You seem happy," Dumbledore said to his phoenix.
Fawkes trilled an affirmative and pecked one of Dumbledore's shoulders lightly. Used to the phoenix's signals, Dumbledore turned in the direction indicated.
One of his locating devices, which had been silent and still for eleven full days, was alight and vibrating once more.
Dumbledore smiled, feeling a load lift from his shoulders.
"Mercy even for Pooh-Bah," he said softly to himself, and went to his desk to write an important letter.
-----
Moony should really change the password on his door more often. Especially now that Harry and his friends know how to work the Map.
But the same words opened the door of the small apartment that had done so fifteen years ago, when Remus had first moved in. Sirius took a look around. Not much had changed. The furniture was a bit shabbier, the carpet a little more faded, but overall it had the feel of a settled bachelor pad.
Eat first, or shower first?
Eat, he decided. I may have been in suspended animation, but I still feel as if I haven't eaten for a week!
Three sandwiches and a butterbeer later, he felt decidedly better. He cleaned up after himself, then headed for the bathroom.
Wonder where he keeps the clean towels?
-----
Remus climbed the three flights of stairs in a far better mood than he had descended them that morning. He had made so much thanks to the mysterious dog that he had decided to come home early.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said to his door, which swung open for him and closed itself behind him once he had entered.
I could use a shower – today was fairly warm, and I'm not sure I took one this morning. He went into his bedroom and began to undress, wrapping his bath towel around his waist.
Then he noticed something decidedly odd. Water was already running in the bathroom.
There's someone in here. Someone in my apartment.
Someone is taking a shower in my apartment.
He frowned. Who breaks into an apartment to take a shower?
And how could anyone get in? The door can't be forced, it only opens with the password... and I didn't think anyone else knew my password now.
Something is very strange here.
Taking his wand off the dresser, he went to the bathroom door.
Might as well try the polite way first. He knocked.
"Be out in a minute!" called a voice. A male voice. And a male voice he knew.
This is impossible. It has to be some kind of trick.
"Alohomora!"
The door swung open. The water shut off. A dark head poked itself out of the shower stall. "Geez, Moony, I said I'd be out in a minute. Do you have to go that bad?"
Remus quickly leaned against the wall, to preserve his balance, his sanity, and his dignity (his towel was slipping). It can't be him. It can't be.
And I'm not going to say it. I won't give him the satisfaction.
Oh damn. Yes I am. I can't help it...
"You cannot be Sirius."
-----
That is the most perfect straight line I have ever heard. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd made a wrong turn somewhere and gone back to heaven.
"Want to bet?" Sirius grinned at his friend.
Remus rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding his wand, then continued staring at Sirius. "So prove it."
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at number 12, Grimmauld Place, London," Sirius recited in a sing-songy tone. "And incidentally, you look terrible."
"That tends to happen when my friends die," Remus said dryly. "Care to explain?"
"I'd like to get dressed first, if you don't mind. It's a long story."
"I'm not going anywhere," Remus said as Sirius pushed the door closed.
Nowhere except down. I would be willing to bet money that he's going to faint, or at the very least fall over, now that there's no one watching him...
There was a thump from beyond the door.
I win.
This is turning out to be a pretty good day after all.
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(A/N: Wow, I've never had so many people worried about whether or not a story will continue! Let me make it clear. When I finish a story, I put a big "THE END" sign below the last line. Then I put a "COMPLETE" sign on the summary. Neither of those things has happened to EC yet, therefore it is still being written, and it will continue to be written until those two things happen. Thank you.
Any Resonance readers, what is Remus playing when Sirius finds him? And can anyone tell me the source of Dumbledore's quote when he sees Sirius' locator working again?
blueJosh: No, no more Peter. Just Sirius and how he, and the world, adjust to his return.
blackpaws22: Thanks!
MAndrews: Yes, isn't that a great image?
emikae: Rambling is fine, as long as it's at least tangentially story-related... thanks!
RunningInCircles: Thanks!
blah: Humph. ::sticks out tongue:: Remus was drunk, under emotional stress, and thinking of Sirius at the time. As for Voldie, see above. Darn you people who make me rationalize my story decisions! Thanks for compliment!
vindicated16: Here you are!
Hugs to all reviewers! Give yourselves a pat on the back from me!)