Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter at the moment, but I have sent several letters with enclosed checks to J.K. Rowling, and I am expecting to receive the rights to her novels at any time.
Further Disclaimers: That last statement was a complete fabrication.
A man, presumably Mr. Cirian Blask himself, was framed in the doorway. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with thin mouse-brown hair and very thick bifocals. His attire, which made Remus and Sirius feel very much like normal Muggles, consisted of a Hawaiian shirt, long khaki shorts, and stout red rubber boots, with the addition of several cats twined around his ankles, looking not unlike old faux fur scarves.
The werewolf and the convict blinked. Twice.
"Hello," said the man cheerily, smiling at the two wizards. "Would you like some tea?"
"Tea?" asked Sirius, blinking again.
"I can make lemonade if you'd prefer. But I happen to like tea." He smiled at them expectantly.
"We'd certainly be honored..." began Remus in confusion while Sirius blinked furiously.
"Good," said the man, yanking his visitors into the house by their shirt collars.
They stood a few moments later in a dingy foyer carpeted with longer cat hairs, rubbing their sore necks. Remus glanced at Sirius for support, and when he saw that his friend was still preoccupied with blinking, cleared his throat. "Are you Mr. Cirian Blask?" he asked, hoping it didn't sound too accusatory.
"I am, but please call me Scott."
It was Remus's turn to blink. "You want us to call you Scott?"
"Yes. My sister had a dog called Scott. It was a Scotty terrier, you see. Friendly sort of animal. He's dead, of course." There was an uncomfortable sort of pause which Remus broke by saying, "Indeed," as politely as he could.
"So, tea!" cried Cirian Blask, also known as Scott, and he shuffled into the kitchen. When he was out of earshot, Remus glared at Sirius. 'Something in your eye?" he asked him coldly while he blinked incessantly.
"They said in Muggle Studies that Muggles were normal," was the only reply he got.
"He might not be a Muggle. The slightly eccentric dress, the cats... he looks like a wizard to me. Some of them prefer to pose as Muggles rather than go into hiding."
Sirius, who had shuddered involuntarily at the word "cats", said, "We should still pull the journalist ruse, though, just to be safe." He blinked again, eyes watering.
"You're right, and will you stop blinking? It gets on my nerves."
"It's not just for dramatic effect," replied Sirius, staring at Remus with bloodshot eyes. "I think I'm allergic."
"To cats?" Sirius shuddered again and blinked. "But you were alright with Crookshanks."
"He's only part cat. I think his Kneazle blood cancelled most of it out." He sneezed and cursed as their host poked his head into the hallway. "The tea's ready."
Sitting around a flimsy card table, the three peculiarly dressed men sipped scalding tea from ancient china, while dozens of cats in various colors wended their way through the kitchen. Every so often, a feline would stop and hiss at Sirius, who would sniffle irritably while Scott reprimanded it. "No, Tilly," he said firmly to a pure white cat that Remus was sure he had called Binky a few moments before. "Leave the nice man alone." The cat arched its back and purred, and then stalked off to join a tabby and two calicos on the filthy kitchen counter.
Remus decided that it was in the best interest of Sirius's allergies and his life that they cut to the chase immediately. He coughed politely. "Well, Mr. Blask..."
"Scott, please."
"... Scott, I suppose you're wondering why we're here."
"No, not really," said Scott nonchalantly, sipping his tea. "I get odd visitors all the time. Sometimes they want me to take care of one of their cats. Sometimes they've tried to sell me something. A few have tried to rob me. I invite them in for tea, all the same. That's my philosophy: treat everybody the same. People are like cats, you know. They all look different on the outside, but deep down all they want is a back rub, a plate of fish, and a nap."
There was another uncomfortable silence. Remus couldn't think of anything to say to a statement like that. Himself, he thought the whole idea was rather warped since he had never cared for fish. But he wouldn't say that; people got irritated when their personal maxim was questioned.
To his surprise, Sirius sniffed and jumped in. "That is a truly deep and moving testimony, Scott. We're journalists, you know, and we would love to write an article connecting racial equality and cats for Sunday's edition. Would you give us an interview?"
"Actually, I'm rather busy at present. Sarah and Winnie are both having kittens in the living room."
Sirius wondered whether he meant it in a figurative or literal sense, though the amount of cats in the house at present seemed to suggest the former. Remus salvaged the situation while he mused by saying, "How about we make an appointment for tomorrow, then? We could meet at Nelly's for lunch at twelve."
"That sounds fine," said the eccentric cat lover, putting down his teacup and rising from his chair. "Would you like to help with the delivery, or would you prefer to leave?"
Both wizards rose so quickly that they knocked their chairs to the ground. "I'm afraid we have some rather pressing business to attend to," said Remus, setting the chair firmly on four legs. Sirius blinked and sniffed as he righted his own chair, and after saying their goodbyes they exited the house. As they departed, they heard Scott saying, "Alright, Penny, breathe slowly and push!"
"I thought the cats' names were Sarah and Winnie," said Remus aloud.
"Huh?"
"Never mind," the werewolf replied.
"That was without a doubt one of the weirdest experiences I've had in my life, and that's saying something considering all the people Dung's introduced me to."
"Indeed," said Lupin. "Well, I suppose we'd better head back. We've got forty-three hours and ten minutes left before..." He gulped. It was bad enough to have Sirius die once.