FINALLY. If there ever was a chapter I hated writing, it's probably this one. Complete writer's block due to stress, I got ill last weekend (feeling better now, though), and I just didn't like writing about what I was suppose to write about, if you catch my drift. At one point, though, I thought - like Samwise in Return of the King "Then let us be rid of it" and threw my laptop into Mount Doom.
Of course, 't was only then that I realised that that wasn't perhaps the greatest of ideas...
On a less serious note, here's the newest chapter. Slightly lousy, imo, shorter than usual, but it'll have to do. Enjoy.
Oh, and sorry 'bout the language.
October 1995.
"Well, I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. Hagrid's back."
"They're mad. They're absolutely insane!"
"I think it's a brilliant idea, actually," Sirius said coolly.
"Of course you do," Remus muttered. He rubbed his forehead, leaning with his elbows on the carved marble of the hearth in Mr Black's study. Sirius had just told him everything about his conversation with Harry through the fire – everything except that Umbridge had nearly caught him. He had decided to conveniently 'forget' to mention that part. He had the feeling that Remus wasn't going to welcome that news.
"Did you tell Molly?" Remus asked.
"Of course not, she'd go berserk."
"I can imagine," Remus said to the hearth.
"I don't believe this," Sirius spat. "A few days ago, you were all for it, and now you've suddenly turned into a sour prick who can't take a bit of fun."
"I am not a sour prick."
"Proof me wrong."
"Listen," Remus began very reasonably, in his opinion at least, "there is a difference between a bit of fun and something that can possibly harm them. What we used to do was fun. We only got ourselves in trouble, and the only ones who we could get in trouble with were McGonagall and maybe Dumbledore too if we went too far. But they have a group of twenty-five or so, all children, and they're up against Umbridge. Against Fudge. It's just… an enormous risk."
"You're chickening out," Sirius said disgustedly. "I can't believe it. I thought you were braver than this."
"I'm not chickening out, and it's got nothing to do with bravery. It's about being aware of the risk, and not getting yourself caught. If the Ministry finds out about this, they'll have to face more than detention, you know."
"I know, Moony."
"I know you know, but I'm not sure you really realise what they can get themselves into."
Sirius shot him an annoyed glare. "What do you mean?"
"You're… you're being too enthusiastic about this," Remus said, carefully wording his opinion lest he anger Sirius any more. "The way you put it, this is the most brilliant idea since Dumbledore founded the Order of the Phoenix. You don't seem to be aware of the dangers."
"Unlike Mr 'always look on the downside' Lupin?" Sirius inquired sarcastically.
"The realistic side," Remus corrected. He was starting to feel slightly annoyed now.
"Are you saying I'm not being realistic?" Sirius bit.
"Yes, I am."
" it, Remus, stop treating me like a child!"
"Stop acting like one," Remus said sharply. "You're not sixteen anymore, Sirius! For God's sake, it wouldn't hurt acting responsibly!"
"Responsibly?" Sirius repeated. He slammed his father's desk; Remus had succeeded in making his friend angry. "How can I be bloody responsible when I'm stuck in here?"
"I'm not going to discuss that," Remus warned.
"Of course not," Sirius snarled. "God forbid that you'd do anything against Dumbledore's orders."
"I said I didn't want to discuss that," Remus replied. "We were talking about Harry, not about Dumbledore. Just stop applauding everything Harry does, okay? I know it's Harry, but not everything he does is the Second Coming of Christ, and he does some exceedingly stupid things, and he needs people to pull him back. Responsible, adult persons."
"You've made your point by now, you know," said Sirius coolly. "Next time, I'll be a boring, careful, responsible grownup person. Just like you."
Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius already slammed the door behind him.
It wasn't until nearly a week later that Remus saw Sirius again. He had only come to Grimmauld Place to sleep, and during those hours Sirius avoided him. The rest of the time, he was busy with his work for the Order of the Phoenix.
He rarely visited Kingsley now, so as not to make Scrimgeour any more suspicious than he was already. Instead, he hung around in the corridors, did his Guard Duty in the Department of Mysteries, paid Arthur the odd visit – and even found himself visiting the Werewolf Capture Unit.
It surprised him too. He hadn't thought he'd ever end up there – like going to the police for a nice cup of tea when you're a criminal – but there he was. He had been invited by an elderly lady, and he had found himself unable to refuse.
"I understand that you might feel a little uncomfortable," she had accurately assessed his feelings, "but do come. Your brother's having a bit of a rough time, and it might help if you come and visit us."
"Why?"
Romulus had apparently had a rougher 'first moon' than the others. Apart from having had to fight a werewolf and seeing two children having been brutally murdered, which was of course never easy, he had a feeling of guilt he didn't want to admit. He had only now realised that his idea hadn't been the best, and Remus being angry with him over it hadn't exactly helped either.
"He's a dear," the woman, Emily, had said, "but it would help if you'd show him that you don't completely hate him."
Remus hadn't realised that his brother felt so bad about the whole thing. In fact, he hadn't thought twice about what kind of an effect it would have on Romulus – to Remus, it was just another really stupid, almost Sirius-esque action.
But he had promised to come and visit the Capture Unit again. If anything, it'll be interesting, and I doubt they'll clap me in irons just for being me, he thought hopefully.
Sirius used to hate Halloween. There was just no fun in the holiday when he was little. There was no way that he and Regulus would dress up – his parents were too busy giving parties for their friends. The house-elves sometimes tried to make something of it, but two little carved pumpkins, candy and telling ghost-stories to your little brother were poor substitutes of what the day was really about. But he had only realised what he had missed when he had gone to Hogwarts – yes, there were pumpkins, and candy, and ghost-stories, but they seemed to be multiplied by twelve. There were huge pumpkins, and mountains of candy, and real ghosts, and James to enact stories with, to frighten other students out of their wits. Within no-time, Halloween had become Sirius' favourite holiday.
Then, of course, came 1981, and it took the fun out of the day forever.
"I don't suppose we're actually going to do something with it this year," Sirius told Buckbeak, as he was brushing the animal's fur. "I mean, there's hardly anybody around to celebrate it with anyway, and I wouldn't know what I'd do. I propose that we're just going to live the 30th of October twice, and then go on with the first of November. What do you say?"
Buckbeak made a sound, a sort of grunt. Sirius knew that it meant that the Hippogriff liked being brushed, but he decided that Buckbeak had just agreed with his plan.
"Good, it's a plan then. Tomorrow will be the 30th, and the day after that too, and then it's November, and nothing happened." He patted Buckbeak on his flank. The animal let out a shriek and playfully tried to peck Sirius. Sirius laughed, stepped out of the way, then patted Buckbeak again. The Hippogriff snorted at Sirius.
"No matter how often you try," Sirius boasted, "you won't catch me." He smiled and stroked Buckbeak's feathers. "But I'll give you a treat for trying. Wait here."
He walked out of the room and quickly descended the stairs, to the kitchen. He had hoped to find an easier way to get six floors down – perhaps a closet on the top floor that you could walk into, close the door, and when you opened again you were in the kitchen. But his extensive searches had given him no luck so far. Not even one of those iron poles firemen used, cleverly hidden somewhere.
He stopped abruptly when he reached the last staircase, the one leading to the hall. Kreacher was standing in front of his former Mistress' portrait, talking to it even though he couldn't see it, as the curtains were drawn shut.
"Yes, it's a disgrace," he growled with his – still unnervingly – deep voice. "Mudbloods, traitors, half-breeds – staying here in the house. Kreacher has to serve them too, if Master orders, but Kreacher tries not to. He is remembering his Mistress' orders never to serve scum like that. Kreacher minds the family's honour, even if Master Sirius does not. Yes, the Mistress can be proud… Kreacher does as he is told…"
"I'm glad to hear that," Sirius interrupted the house-elf's monologue. "Right now, I'm telling you to stop talking to that portrait, get your scrawny out of my sight and go do something useful." He descended the stairs, looking at Kreacher with contempt.
"Master." Kreacher bowed deep down, pretending he hadn't just insulted Sirius. "Of course. Kreacher does his Master's bidding."
"Well, do it faster," Sirius snapped. "Out of my sight. Go clean the sitting room." He prodded Kreacher with his boot towards the staircase, rougher than was necessary.
"Yes, Master," Kreacher muttered, adding; "Kreacher has to clean that room again, and he does not wonder, since the presence of the Master's friends, the werewolf and the bloodtraitors, besmirch it. Oh, what would the Mistress say?"
Sirius felt a sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to kick Kreacher to the other end of the hall, pick him up and do it again, but the elf had already crept up the staircase, out of reach.
"God, I hate that creature," he muttered. Severely pissed off, he walked on towards the kitchen. He yanked the door open, stomped down the stairs – and stopped in surprise.
Albus Dumbledore was quietly enjoying a cup of tea at the kitchen table.
"Excuse me?" was the first thing that came out of Sirius' mouth, before he had really realised he was going to say that.
The Headmaster looked up and smiled. "Ah, Sirius. I was already wondering what kept you. Kreacher told me he was going to fetch you about twenty minutes ago."
"I spent the last half hour with Buckbeak," Sirius said dryly. "Obviously, Kreacher didn't think it necessary to inform me of your arrival."
"Apparently." Dumbledore pointed at the teacup in his hand. "I felt so free to make myself a cup of tea."
"Of course, of course, by all means feel free to." Sirius picked up the teapot, which was still warm, and poured himself a cup of tea as well.
"I hope everything is all right with Buckbeak," Dumbledore said conversationally.
"He's fine, he's fine. He misses regular exercise though." He isn't the only one," Sirius added mentally. "But never mind that," he continued briskly. He didn't want to discuss locked-up animals – or people – with Dumbledore; he had a feeling that the subject would only earn him another lecture about safety. "What brings you here?"
"I wanted to pass on some news.
"Surely that's not your only reason you're here," Sirius said, laughing a little. "Albus Dumbledore the owl?"
Dumbledore chuckled at that. "No, indeed. I had some other business to attend to here in London, and decided to stop by for a minute, to save paper and an owl. I have news from Hagrid."
"Ah. And?"
Dumbledore blinked, slightly surprised by Sirius' matter-of-fact tone, but quickly recovered. "Hagrid's coming back to England," he said. "He's written me that he's on his way home. The only problem is now finding a way to cross the Channel."
"Finally. What took him so long?"
"Family matters, I'm afraid."
Sirius gaped at this. "Family matters?" he repeated. "Begging your pardon, but does Hagrid actually still have a family?"
"Apparently he has." Dumbledore looked a bit disapproving, Sirius noticed, although his tone of voice didn't sound like it. "A half-brother."
"Okay…" Sirius scratched his neck, slightly confused. "Well, good for him I suppose. D'you want me to pass the news on?"
"If you'd please."
"Sure, no problem."
Dumbledore nodded. "Good. I'll leave that to your care then. I must be off to Hogwarts again." He got to his feet and put his cloak on, which had been hanging over the back of his chair.
Sirius wished he could ask Dumbledore to say hi to Harry from him, but he knew that that was impossible – Dumbledore had said that he suspected that Voldemort was somehow trying to control Harry, and he wanted to avoid direct contact with the boy as much as possible. So instead of giving lengthy instructions as to what exactly tell Harry, Sirius was forced to remain silent.
He saw the Headmaster off to the door. Just before Dumbledore left, Sirius blurted out: "Happy Halloween." He wasn't quite sure why he said it – perhaps some unconscious desire to see if somebody remembered it.
Dumbledore turned, slightly surprised. "Yes… happy Halloween." His mind had been on more important things. He nodded his goodbye, smiling, and stepped out onto the street.
Sirius held in his sigh until he had closed the door behind the elder wizard. Then he leaned with his head against the door and screwed up his face in utter despair. He had never felt so lonely in his entire life. For a moment, the dark house behind and above him seemed a giant black hole, about to suck him in. There was no escaping it.
Somebody had had the ungodly idea to actually put a carved pumpkin, complete with a little light, in the kitchen, on the morning of the second 30th of October. Sirius scowled at it when he saw it on the table, it's light nearly burned down. Whoever had put it there had done it a couple of hours ago, early this morning.
"I bet it was Molly," Sirius said darkly. "If it was Remus I'm going to kick him."
He was not at all in the mood for festivities. Holidays required people around you, and a cheerful mood, and Sirius had neither. He had seen the others briefly on the evening of the 29th, but had been left alone after that. He hadn't really expected anyone to drop by, for that matter, and neither did he really expect anybody around tonight. It was a holiday after all – who would spend Halloween in a dreary Head Quarters? Most of the Order had a home to go to, even the Weasleys had excused themselves. Tonks had excused herself with much apologising; she'd promised her parents to come over this evening, and she hadn't had the heart to refuse. It would've been rather hard to explain anyway. So Sirius' hope was set on Remus, who had promised to stay at Grimmauld Place tonight. He wondered for a moment whether Remus was going to come up with a silly present again, like he had last year. Sirius felt like he could do with a present, silly or not.
He spent the day rummaging about the house, all by himself, as expected. He avoided Kreacher, and the house-elf avoided him as well. Neither of them wanted to be around one another if they could help it.
He grew more restless, a sort of expectant nervosity, as the evening grew nearer. He found himself almost counting the hours, in fact. As happened more often lately, the house seemed to grow darker and bigger, quieter too. With the few lights he had put up in the kitchen, it almost seemed as if he was entombed, or in a tiny cave in a huge mountain, with nobody around for miles. A surreal thought for somebody in a house in London. Yet, he couldn't really seem to grasp that there were millions of people around him, some of them only yards away. He felt as if he was the only person in the world.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly. The carved pumpkin cast strange shadows around the room – Sirius had put in a new light. He swirled his drink around in his glass, watching the shadows, waiting.
Surely Remus would come?
It was nearly eleven o'clock when Kreacher shuffled into the kitchen, carrying a sealed piece of parchment. "A letter has arrived, Master," he croaked.
"Sod off, I'm busy," Sirius growled. He wasn't, unless thinking dark and depressing thoughts about being left alone by friends could be considered 'busy'. He snatched the parchment from Kreacher's hand and tore the seal open, paying no more attention to the house-elf. He narrowed his eyes when he recognised Remus' handwriting.
Padfoot,
I am more sorry than I can possibly express, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight. Something needed my immediate attention, something that cannot be explained right away. Please understand that this wasn't my own choice – if it were up to me, I'd be with you right now, and we'd be drinking Firewhiskey until we both throw up, or until Molly scolds at us and tells us to cut it out. But I can't.
I swear by everything that is dear to me that I'll come 'round tomorrow and explain everything that needs explaining. Don't throw away that Firewhiskey just yet.
Moony.
Sirius suddenly realised what people meant with 'a sinking feeling in your stomach'. It really felt that way – as if his stomach had suddenly sunk right out of his body.
Remus wasn't coming.
"Something needed my immediate attention," he repeated from the letter. "What in God's fucking hell can be more important!" He tore the letter in half, and then tore those pieces too for good measure. He threw them into the fire, disgusted.
Goddamnit Moony, I was counting on you," he muttered, looking at the pieces of the letter being turned into ashes. The feeling of loneliness returned tenfold.
He looked up. To his relief, Kreacher hadn't stayed around to hear what was in the letter. He feared that if he had, he might've killed the house-elf, simply for being the only one to vent his anger and frustration on.
He looked around the room, and his eye fell on the bottle of Firewhiskey he'd set ready.
"Well," he muttered. "If I can't enjoy it with Moony – " he said his friend's nickname very sarcastically, "– I'll have to enjoy it by myself." And with that, he poured himself the first of what were going to be many glasses.
Bleh
I managed to write a chapter about Hagrid returning without ever mentioning what he did! I must be a genius. Or just not interested in Hagrid - if you want to know exactly what he did, go and reread the chapter called "Hagrid's Tale" in OotP. You may think that Sirius reacted rather coolly to the news that Hagrid has a halfbrother - that was mainly because he doesn't really care as much about Hagrid as Harry does. Besides, the last time Hagrid and Sirius had a proper conversation was... some time ago.I must admit that I quite like writing Sirius' dialogue, especially when he's angry. grin The only problem is that I find his vocabulary somewhat repetitive, sometimes. I do hope that you're not all hating Remus now, btw, just as much as I hope that the next chapter's going to work out...Review! Please?