A few days later, still June 1995.
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

"Still sure about it?"
Sirius sighed. "Moony, Dumbledore agreed with me. Doesn't that make it a good idea?"
"Well, Dumbledore lets Snape teach Harry."
"Don't go nicking my arguments. It is a good idea and we are going in."
The duo was standing in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was, according to Remus at least, ridiculously early in the morning. Despite there being hardly anybody in the street, they were nervously looking around. Sirius was still wanted, and not even Sirius wearing sunglasses (at half past eight in the morning) kept Remus from looking over his shoulder.
"Well," he said. "Ready to go in?"
"No use standing around, is there?" Sirius agreed. "And if we want the house ready this afternoon, before the rest comes in, we'd better hurry."
"Quite right," Remus said. He walked up the stone steps to the door and reached out for the serpent-shaped knocker. Before he could touch it, however, Sirius harshly pulled his hand away.
"Silver," he said. "Better not touch it, unless you want a nice serpent burn in your hand. And besides, I bet the door's got a charm on it. Big chance that only a Black can open it. Let me try."
Remus obediently stepped out of the way. Sirius pulled out his wand and looked pensively at the door. "What was the combination again?" he muttered. "Ah!" He tapped his wand on the door on what seemed random places, then he stepped back. Nothing seemed to happen at first, then they both heard a rather loud clicking and rattling coming from inside.
"That's the lock," Sirius told Remus. "I figured they wouldn't have changed it, so little people know about it. And it's nearly impossible to crack if you don't know where to tap. Ah, here we are."
The door had stopped clicking and rattling. Sirius touched the silver knocker and pushed. The heavy door opened creakily. Sirius peered around it.
"Cheerful," he said. "Let's go in, then."
Sirius was the first to g on. Remus followed him, carefully looking over his shoulder once more to be sure that they weren't being seen, but there was no-one on the square.
'Cheerful' was about the last word Remus would use to describe the hall they were now in. It was nearly pitch-blank and smelled as if something was rotting away. He squinted his eyes to see more. There seemed to come a little light from somewhere at the back of the house, and from upstairs too – maybe there were large windows.
"Light?" he whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering, but he somehow didn't want to be noticed.
"Good idea," Sirius agreed, whispering as well. "Lumos." A light appeared on the tip of his wand, and the two could finally look around.
"Oh bloody hell," Sirius said.
Remus could fully understand that reaction. It was in fact a remark he'd wanted to make himself. He couldn't remember ever being in a house so...dark.
There were old gas lamps on the walls, which were covered with peeling, musty old wallpaper and had old paintings on them. Remus and Sirius were standing on a threadbare carpet, which, by the look of it, used to have a pattern, but it had faded over time. An old table was standing on Remus' right, with an age-blackened silver candelabra on it. Above there heads, a few glimmering reflections of the light in silver revealed an old cobweb-covered chandelier. Ahead of them, only barely visible in the small light, was an old, dark staircase with a carpet that was so dark-red it was almost black.
The house hadn't caused Sirius' exclamation though. He hadn't even looked at his surroundings, but was staring straight ahead with a horrified expression on his face.
"Bloody hell," he said again. Remus looked to see what was wrong.
Sirius was staring at a portrait of an old woman who was just waking up. She was wearing a black cap to cover her dry white hair. She was wearing expensive-looking robes embroidered with silver. Her hands, which were folded on her lap, were wearing fingerless gloves made of black lace and she was wearing several beautifully-crafted silver rings with emeralds and onyxes.
Beautiful and expensive as her clothes and jewellery may be, Remus couldn't help but notice that she had a sour expression on her old face. Her straight nose and high cheekbones hinted at a beauty she had once possessed, but that was now long gone. Her face was now wrinkled and her skin was yellowing. And it wasn't exactly helping that she had white crusts of dried saliva at the corners of her mouth.
"Who is that?" Remus asked. He was looking fascinated at the portrait.
"You don't want to know," Sirius muttered. "Trust me. I think we'd better leave – quickly."
The portrait was blinking her eyes against the light. "Who's that?" she said. Her voice was old and creaking, but it still had a ring of authority in it. "Kreacher?"
"Go," Sirius hissed, backing away to the door. "Remus, that's my – "
The woman's gaze flitted towards the pair. Her dark eyes widened. Then all hell broke loose.
"YOU!" she screamed. Remus jumped a foot in the air; for a split-second he thought she was talking to him. But her eyes were fixed on Sirius, who was looking back, pale but with a look of utter revulsion on his face.
"BLOOD-TRAITOR!" the woman continued. "SHAME OF MY FLESH! TO THINK THAT I HELD YOU TO MY BOSOM! FILTH! TRAITOR!"
The noise was so overwhelming that for a moment Remus could only stare, dumbfounded. Then he realised just what the woman was screaming. He turned to Sirius.
"She what?" he yelled, trying to be heard over the deafening screaming. Sirius had his hands clapped over his ears.
"Outside," he mouthed.
"HOW DARE YOU COME BACK AND BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS?!" the woman continued as they ran back to the door. Remus hastily pushed the door open and nearly tripped as he ran down the stone steps. The portrait's screaming was still ringing in his ears as Sirius fled from the house, smacking the door shut behind him.

"As you'll understand, I'm not exactly happy with having her as my mother," Sirius said.
They were sitting on the stone steps leading to the Black's door, waiting until the portrait of Sirius' mother had calmed down (and hopefully fallen asleep again). It had taken Sirius some explaining before Remus accepted that, yes, that was really Sirius' mother. And no, he didn't like her either.
"She seems to have got worse since I left," Sirius said. "Not that she was much better before. Always going on about Purebloods being better and that kind of stuff. How I was a disgrace for being sorted into Gryffindor and actually liking my fellow house-members. I always used to hope that James' parents would adopt me. Or even your parents."
"Or even my parents?" Remus repeated, raising an eyebrow. A small grin appeared on Sirius' face.
"Really, I like your parents, Moony, but I always had the impression that they wouldn't like me as their son," he said. "Sometimes I even wondered whether they liked me as your friend, especially those times I dragged you onto a broomstick again and made you do loopings and dives."
Remus smiled, then turned serious again. "But honestly, your mother...I finally really understand why you ran away."
"And that's only a portrait," Sirius said sourly. "She was worse in real life. You were sometimes complaining about your parents being over-protective, but I would've killed for parents like that – sometimes anyway. At least your parents, well, accepted what you are. My parents would've kicked you out, if not worse."
"Not that friendly towards werewolves, hm?"
"You're right up there with Mudbloods and Muggles, Moony."
"At least I'm in good company then," Remus tried to cheer Sirius up a bit. It didn't really help.
"I can only imagine what they'd say if I turned up with you," he continued gloomily. "A half-blood werewolf, just middle-class, your father – only three generations of wizards in his blood – working a simple job at the Ministry. Oh, I know he loves it," Sirius added when he saw Remus' look, "but that just doesn't matter to my family. That's the kind of people they are."
"Can I hate your mum?" Remus asked.
"Feel free to," Sirius muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at the door. "Shall we try again?"
Remus sighed. "Yes, let's."

Mrs Black appeared to have fallen asleep again. The hall was silent when Remus and Sirius tiptoed into it, careful even to keep their breathing silent.
"Let's go to the back of the house," Sirius breathed, so silently that even Remus had trouble hearing it.
Remus followed his friend down the hall. Sirius had lit the tip of his wand again, shielding the light with his hand so that he could only see a few feet around him. Apart from their footsteps on the carpet, the house was quiet. They sometimes heard something scuttling behind the skirting board, but it was gone before they had time to really listen to it.
Sirius opened a door with a stained-glass window showing a snake curled around a white rose. The door led to what seemed to have been a small sitting room. There was a hazy light filtering through the dirt on the huge windows, and they could finally make out their surroundings without wand-light. The furniture was covered with dust. Two sofas were standing near a fireplace, above which a mirror with a silver frame was hanging. Pots were standing near the glass doors towards a small, narrow garden, the remnants of the plants now nothing more but shrivelled brownish earth.
"This used to be the room where my parents invited their guests before taking them in the next room for dinner," Sirius told Remus. He looked around bitterly. "I was always able to see how much my parents liked a particular guest by how far into the house he got. If he got until the hall - barely tolerable. If he got into here - worth talking to. If they were taken upstairs, he or she was well-thought of, or at least respected. And if he got to go into the library and my mother's sitting room as well, they were either really dear friends or related."
"Did it ever happen that somebody was degraded all the way back?" Remus asked. Sirius laughed mirthlessly.
"Oh yes. Tonks' mum – Andromeda, my favourite cousin. She was the daughter of my father's brother. Her sisters both turned out to be Death Eaters – Narcissa's married to Lucius Malfoy – but Andromeda was the decent one. In my eyes at least. Anyway – " Sirius sighed. "– she married a muggleborn, a really nice guy. But to my family, she might as well have gone and married an animal. So she was disowned, kicked out of the family, wiped from the family tree. Her own mother swore never to look her in the face again. So there she went, from the back of the house to the front steps." Sirius smiled bitterly. "I bet Tonks has never seen her grandparents from her mother's side, not in real life anyway."
Remus sighed inaudibly. This was something he would probably never be able to understand. He came from a loving family himself, and it was a mystery to him how parents could hate their children, or vice versa. This entire house and the history that came with it seemed another world.
"What's behind these windows?" he asked, looking at the dirt-covered glass doors.
"A garden," Sirius said. "Small garden, but still. My mother used to grow roses there. Red, since they didn't have black, green or silver ones."
Remus ignored this lame attempt at humour. "Want to show me what's upstairs?"
"Sure. After all," Sirius gave a little mock-bow, "you are a very dear friend."
Being back in his old home had given Sirius a kind of sarcastic attitude Remus didn't like at all. He was normally just slightly sarcastic, but never really hurtful. There was usually a good distinction between joke or insult. But he had now turned bitter and resentful, and Remus wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't want to judge Sirius' family because he'd never actually met them. He had only heard stories from Sirius, and he wasn't exactly impartial. On the other hand, Sirius was his best friend, why shouldn't Remus be on his side?
He gave an irritated sigh. Associating with Sirius seemed to make everything so difficult...
Sirius showed Remus the dining room too, before going upstairs. It was a large room with a long table, covered with a thick layer of dust. Large mirrors on the wall bathed the room in a fake light, that was reflected from Sirius' wand. Again, the chandeliers and the candelabras were made of silver. It still had something of that old elegance it must've had, once.
They went back to the hall, tiptoed past the dozing Mrs Black and walked up the stairs. Everything was so dark, barely illuminated by Sirius' wandlight, with the odd glimmers of the light being reflected on old silver, that Remus had the odd sensation of walking underwater through the wreck of an old ship. He'd nearly expect a group of fish to swim by.
"These are the heads of our old house-elves," Sirius whispered as they passed the shrunken heads.
"Charming."
"Here's our drawing room," was the next thing Sirius showed. The drawing room was almost cosy. It was much less formal than the reception room downstairs. It had clearly-used sofas, a big hearth and tapestries decorating the walls. Again, green, black, silver and white were the dominant colours.
"Why white though?" Remus asked as they climbed the stairs to the second landing.
"It goes nicely with black," Sirius said simply. "My mother was rather fond of the colour. Liked to dress in white to contrast with my father. Combine it with silver jewellery and you get a kind of elegance that is as cold as snow. Judging by her portrait, though, she's switched to black after my father died, as is of course the proper thing to do. And that mattered greatly to her. Very proper woman, my mother was."
They had reached the second landing. It had two doors on either side, both with silver serpent-shaped doorknobs.
"And this is?"
"Our bedrooms," Sirius sighed. "The heir – "he gestured to the right door, "– and the spare." The left door.
Remus very much wanted to tell Sirius to cut it out, but it would only result in an argument, and he hated that. Especially with Sirius, who was a master of hitting back exactly where it hurt most and of not speaking for days, simply out of spite. It was not something Remus was looking for, so he decided to just ignore the tone in which the comment was made.
"Can I have a look?" he asked. Sirius made a 'if you want to'-gesture. Remus carefully wrapped his sleeve around his hand and opened the door.
The room was empty, save for a bare bed, a dilapidated old desk, a painting that showed nothing and a walk-in closet which was empty (the door was wide open).
"Err," said Remus. For a moment, he was lost for words.
"What is it?" Sirius asked. He bluntly pushed the door further open and stepped in. "I'd expected something like this. They took everything out, not surprising. After all, I as good as died, didn't I?" He laughed his bark-like laugh, and Remus flinched.
"And here we have – "Sirius marched out of the room and into the one opposite, carelessly and arrogantly leaving both doors wide open, "– my dear brother's room. Not stripped bare, of course, since he was a good boy." Indeed, Regulus' room was still furnished. It was a stark contrast to Sirius' room. The desk had a silver writing-set on it – ink-pot, quill-standard, a knife with a silver handle to sharpen the pen – the chair seemed only just covered with dark-green velvet, and when Sirius threw the walk-in closet open, Remus could see embroidered robes, black cloaks and carefully stored silver fastenings for them. A framed Hogwarts-certificate hung on the wall, a Slytherin tie pinned next to it. The bed was even made. The only sign that the occupant of this room wasn't likely to return soon was the inch-thick layer of dust.
"Lovely, just charming," said Sirius sarcastically. Remus said nothing. He had nothing to say about a house that seemed to ooze evil, and he could only begin to imagine what it was like to grow up in an environment like this.
A sort of restlessness seemed to have come over Sirius, and he strode out of the room again, up the third staircase. Remus hastily followed him.
The third landing led to a series of doors, according to Sirius leading to the guest rooms. "Very high honour, of course, if you were allowed to stay here."
They climbed another staircase. The fourth landing led to two doors, much like the second handing had. To Remus' surprise, a small smile appeared on Sirius' face.
"I think you'd like this," he said. "My father's study and the family library."
He opened the first door, revealing a study many people would die for. The oak writing desk was neatly polished, the chair pulled back invitingly. Two comfortable reading-chairs stood next to the huge hearth. The mantelpiece was sculptured with images of snakes and lizards crawling across it. Old portraits of softly snoring people decorated the walls.
"Wow," Remus commented. "Quite nice."
"Yeah, it's not bad," said Sirius in an off-hand tone. It was the first time he'd actually said something positive about the house. "I wonder who's been cleaning it all, though."
"You said something about a library?"
Sirius grinned. "Said the magic word, didn't I?"
They went back onto the landing again, to the other, considerably larger door. Sirius took the doorknob – "I do hope that they're letting non-Blacks in" – and opened the door.
Remus' jaw dropped with pure glee.
Imagine a kid, just an average kid, who absolutely loves candy, but doesn't get enough pocket-money to buy it. Then imagine that same kid being placed in a candy-store and being told to 'take what you like'.
You get the same reaction when you place Remus in a two-story, centuries-old library.
Sirius could just barely held in his laughter as he watched his friend walk open-mouthed to the middle of the library, then standing perfectly still to stare.
Indeed, it was a magnificent library. Shelves and shelves of books, two stories high. As Remus later excitedly told his friend, it had to be one of the finest collections of magical books in Britain (not that Sirius didn't know that already). It had a very wide range, from hand-written texts on dragons, leather-bound tomes on poisonous herbs and sixteenth-century poetry to the newest (well, 1985) books about curses. The only thing that was conspicuous by its absence was a section with Muggle-books: all books were written by wizards.
"Well, you have to keep the race clean, don't you," said Sirius when Remus commented on this. "The same goes for libraries. Shall we go on?"
"Can I come back here later?" Remus asked eagerly. Sirius laughed, a genuine laugh.
"Moony, you can have it all, really," he said. "Do with it whatever you want. Just be careful: there are some books that can be rather nasty. Snapping shut with your fingers between the pages, for example. Or you face between them, for that matter."
Remus followed Sirius up the fifth and final staircase. "We're now coming," said Sirius, "to the Holiest of Holiest; my moth – what's wrong?"
Remus had stopped in his tracks. He was sure he had heard something, but now he listened carefully the sound was gone.
"What's wrong?" Sirius repeated more urgently.
"I thought I heard something," Remus said. He was still trying to find the sound, listening intently. Nothing.
"Maybe rats?" Sirius suggested.
"No, it sounded nothing like rats." Remus stood there listening for another few moments, then shook his head. "It's gone. Let's go on."
They climbed the rest of the stairs and ended up on the fifth landing. Again two doors.
"As I was saying," Sirius announced, "this is the most sacred and most vile part of the entire house – not that that's saying much. My parent's rooms." He pointed. "That one's my father's, and that one's my mother's room."
Remus pulled up his eyebrows. "Please don't tell me your parents had separate bedrooms."
"Of course they had. They had two sons already, they had no reason to spend time together."
He reached out to the doorknob, but Remus pulled his hand back.
"There it was again."
Sirius tensed, and Remus could see his grip on his wand tighten. "Where?" he whispered.
Remus nodded to the other door.
"What?" said Sirius on a normal level, making Remus flinch. "In there? Who'd ever want to go in there?"
Remus immediately heard the scurrying get more frantic, as if the person inside was quickly getting away. "We'd better hurry, before – "
Sirius kicked the door open. "Who's there?" he bellowed.
There was no-one there.
"Odd." Sirius walked into the room. "There's nobody here." He turned to Remus. "This was my mother's room. As you can see, she liked white."
That much was obvious. It was almost painful to the eyes. The bed and the writing desk with its carved legs were made of very light wood. The carpet on the floor was cream coloured, and the chaisse-longue and the chair near the fireplace had white cushions on them. The bed was made with snow-white linen. And here too silver candelabras, little silver pots with make-up, a hairbrush with a silver back. The room was distinctly feminine but very cold.
"You can come in if you want to," Sirius said. Remus did a step forward – and walked against a glass plate.
"I can't," he said, taken-aback. He stretched out his hands, but still couldn't come into the room. "It's locked. For me at least."
"Damn, it surprised me already that you had such an easy time coming into everything." Sirius walked back to the door. "You truly can't come in?"
"No. It's like walking against a wall of glass."
"Must be a Familiarity charm then," Sirius concluded. "It doesn't know you, so you can't come in." He looked around. "Don't see why you'd want to, but still."
"It's the principle."
"Yeah."
They were silent for a moment, and thus they both heard it. Someone was inside Mrs Black closet. Sirius suddenly had a predatorily gleam in his eyes. He took a few long strides to the closet and yanked the door open.
"What are you doing here?!" he yelled, then – "oh Merlin, no!"
"What is it?" Remus asked, annoyed that he couldn't come in but had to stand outside with his nose pressed against an invisible wall (not literally).
Sirius didn't answer, but reached down, grabbed something and threw it into the room, on the creamy floor. The something was small, greenish, scrawny – and moving. It landed on its backside and slid a few feet further. Remus watched in amazement as it seemed to uncurl itself, crawl to its feet, and reveal itself as a house-elf. A very old house-elf, that is.
He (it seemed to be male anyway) was rather small, even for a house-elf, and so old and wrinkled that his skin seemed too big. He had large ears, almost like a bat, and tufts of white hair protruded from it. He was clothed in a loincloth that was barely more than a rag. His nose was snout-like and his eyes, which he had suspiciously narrowed, were bloodshot.
"Kreacher," said Sirius disdainfully. The elf did a fake double-take, then bowed so deeply that it was nearly an insult.
"Master," it croaked. His voice was a surprise to Remus – it was deep, deeper than he'd expected from such a small creature, and it was rather croaky. "Young Master Sirius."
"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded. He suddenly seemed completely changed. Remus suspected that this was the old Sirius, the pureblood-, spoilt-, prince-like Sirius. He was standing straight, his eyes narrowed with revulsion. He seemed to have no doubt that he would get an answer.
"Kreacher is cleaning the Mistress's room," the elf said. Then, to both Remus' and Sirius' amazement, he added in an undertone: "and now Kreacher has to start all over again now Master has been here, ungrateful scum, how my Mistress would hate him for being back, making the house dirty with his presence alone – "
"What?" Sirius' exclamation seemed to hit Kreacher like a whip, but he kept muttering.
"He broke the Mistress's heart, he did, befriending Muggles and Mudbloods, a blood traitor, yes, he was, he brought shame upon the house of Black –"
"Yes, we've heard enough." Sirius took Kreacher by the scruff of his neck and threw him onto the landing. "Get out of my sight."
Kreacher scrambled to his feet again, looking back with as much hatred as Sirius. He scurried past Remus – "and bringing his filthy friends too, Mudbloods, unnatural creatures, filth, all of them" – and disappeared.
"That," Sirius said in a tone of the utmost loathing, "was our old house-elf, Kreacher."
"Nice," Remus said uncertainly.
"No, not nice." Sirius was still fuming a little as he walked out of the room again. "I wish I could kick him out."
"Then do so."
"No, he's seen me now. And I wouldn't put it past him to betray me." He gritted his teeth. "Let's get downstairs again, the rest of the Order will arrive soon. We'll need to clean out a lot, unfortunately. Cleaning my Mistress's room." Sirius snorted. "Sure. About the only rooms he ever cleaned."
Remus quietly followed his friend downstairs. The last few hours had been very strange.

Remus checked his watch. "Should be any minute now." The dog at his feet sighed wearily and raised his head to look around. But Grimmauld Place was still as quiet as ever.
Remus turned his ear towards the door. "And I think she's calmed down too."
It hadn't been until Sirius had stomped into the hall that they had remembered about Mrs Black's portrait. The noise of their footsteps had woken her up, and she had begun screaming insults again. Something had cracked inside Sirius, and he had begun shouting back until Remus had finally managed to calm him down again. They'd discovered two large curtains on either side of the portrait, and when they'd forced them shut, the portrait finally shut up too. Sirius had irritably hissed that this whole thing had been his worst idea ever, and if it were up to him he'd burn the entire house down.
Remus had had nothing to say to that, Sirius knew perfectly well that this was the best new Head Quarters for the Order. They were now sitting on the steps to the door again, waiting for Dumbledore.
"Really," Remus said, "it's the best option. It has so many charms on it to make it undetectable, nobody will be able to find it, especially not if Dumbledore puts on some protection of his own. Okay, the atmosphere's lousy, but I'm sure that if we clean out some rooms it can be rather nice – "
Padfoot gave him a reprimanding glare.
"Okay, sorry." Remus raised his hands defensively. "I'll stop lecturing. And repeating myself."
They looked up when a man suddenly appeared on the Place. He had a long silvery beard, was wearing Muggle-clothes but just didn't seem used to them, and when he had walked towards them, they could see the perpetual twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Good afternoon," Albus Dumbledore greeted, sounding solemn but cheerful at the same time. Remus got up.
"Sir," he said, gesturing dramatically to the house, "your new Head Quarters."