Remus Lupin tipped the boggart into the cupboard under his desk. It didn't want to go, and he had to shake the packing case it was currently in to make it slide out. Along the way it further attempted to evade capture by turning into the full moon. "I am not that afraid of the moon, and you can't have the same effect on me," he told it irritably, pushing it into the drawer. "I'm just afraid of what may happen under its influence."
The boggart made a grumbling noise as Remus shut the door, as if it wasn't so sure. Remus, after all, was a bit paler than usual and on the verge of shaking as he dropped into the chair behind his desk.
He'd known when he agreed to help Harry that the subject of Lily and James was unavoidable. He'd thought he could handle it, and the only time his composure had faltered was the first time James had come up. After all, he'd had twelve years for that pain to fade.
Sirius, on the other hand . . . he wasn't entirely sure that he'd ever be comfortable talking about Sirius. It had come more or less out of nowhere, and sometimes he still didn't believe it. He supposed Sirius's mask had been too good, enough that he couldn't find any point at which he knew Sirius had started wearing it.
He wondered absently how much Harry knew. He wouldn't have expected anyone to tell Harry about Sirius— someone may have told him about Peter, perhaps, and maybe Remus himself if it was the right person telling the tale. Neither Peter nor Remus had become Death Eaters, after all, so despite the early end of the former and the lycanthropy of the latter, they made much better stories. Well, he was James's son, so there was always the chance he'd overheard it eavesdropping, and in that case he'd probably heard it recently, which would explain how he'd said it, like an afterthought.
The boggart let out another groan underneath his desk, and Remus kicked the drawer. "You can shut up, can't you?" he asked it.
The desk shook noisily in reply.
"I suppose that's why you get caught and disposed of soon after you find someplace to stay," he commented, wondering absently if he ought to put some sort of silencing spell on the drawer to keep it from distracting him.
Except when I'm moping, like I am now, he decided. When I'm moping it can distract me all it likes. He kicked the drawer again and got up to do something constructive.
A month, and with it four dementor lessons and one transformation, passed quickly for Remus, who certainly had enough on his mind without brooding on the past. The only time he almost started again was when he found another article about Sirius in the corner of the Daily Prophet. The dementors' power had been increased again— before, they had been authorized to use the Kiss if they caught Sirius. Now, they were going to be allowed to use it regardless of who found him.
For a minute or so Remus sat staring at the article, the memories of the teenage boy waging a fierce battle with Peter's murderer inside of him as he tried to form a coherent opinion on what he'd just read. Then the boggart in the cupboard under his desk rattled the entire piece of furniture, knocking Remus out of his reverie and reminding him that he had another Patronus lesson with Harry in half an hour.
Somehow after he came back after that lesson he managed to force the glowing orb back into its drawer and slump into his chair without much thought. Then his eyes fell on the Daily Prophet he'd left atop the flood of papers on his office desk, which brought him back to a subject he'd been deliberately avoiding. "How much do you know, Harry?" he asked absently.
He still wasn't sure whether or not Sirius— or anyone, really— deserved to have his soul destroyed. For a moment he distracted himself, wondering if there was anyone he thought did. The only name he could think of was Voldemort's, if he was still in some semblance alive. Sirius and Grayback didn't even make the list, as much as he would like to see at least the latter dead. But then again, with Sirius there was always the chance that his memories of the laughing little boy and gangly young dog, still half a puppy when they'd first shown up in the Shrieking Shack, were interfering with his better judgement.
The dog. . . . Remus shook his head. He knew he really ought to tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus; after all, it was possible that he was just slipping past the dementors as an animal. But no . . . wizards lost their powers if they were around dementors too long, and so he wouldn't be able to shape-shift.
Then how did he get out in the first place? asked a nasty little voice in his head.
The boggart rattled the desk, knocking Remus out of his deepening gloom again.
So perhaps Sirius could still use his magic; that didn't mean he was using his Animagus form. There had to be a dozen ways of getting out of Azkaban and into Hogwarts by using the dark arts, and even if he wasn't Remus would probably be better off drawing Dumbledore's attention to the few secret passageways Filch didn't know about, perhaps for more than one reason. Remus wasn't entirely satisfied with Harry's explanation about the butterbeer, after all, and it was possible he was using one of them to get out and put himself in even more danger than he was already in. The Shrieking Shack had probably already been searched, but there was the one through Honeyduke's and the one behind the mirror that either Harry or Sirius could be using.
"And maybe," he said aloud, "I just ought to find something else to do besides brood and rationalize. Damn you, Sirius."
Or maybe just get out of Britain and don't come back, he couldn't help but add silently.
Crookshanks pranced cheerfully into the Shrieking Shack, his bottlebrush tail held high and a piece of parchment between his teeth. He leapt onto a desk and then onto Regulus's shoulders, rubbing against his ears and knocking his glasses askew. The cat was emitting a muffled purring noise through the paper he carried.
"Yes, yes, hello," Regulus greeted him irritably, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't precisely busy, I s'pose." He reached up for the paper. Crookshanks let him have it, but not without hooking his claws around the man's wrist and letting out an irritated "Rowr." Clearly whatever the message was, it was for Sirius.
"Sirius would have to chose the most bad-tempered feline in Hogwarts to befriend, wouldn't he?" Regulus muttered, pulling out his wand to heal his wrist.
For some reason, this remark caused Crookshanks to purr in a self-satisfied way. If Regulus hadn't already been positive that Crookshanks took pleasure in injuring people and that cats understood English perfectly, that would have convinced him.
He set the parchment on the desk, pointed his wand at the cuts, and muttered the spell under his breath. Healing with a spell brought intense pain, but at least it was only a moment's worth, better than two weeks of looking at scabs.
As he put his wand back into his pocket, the black dog came out of the tunnel's opening, the back leg of a rabbit swinging between his jaws. Sirius tossed it onto the table and transformed back into a human being.
"So you actually caught something," Regulus commented. "I'm debating wether or not to be surprised, since it's been two weeks since you last managed to. I hadn't realized the rabbits had come out of hibernation yet."
"Yeah, yeah, it's not as if you're luck has been astonishingly better," Sirius retorted. "What's the cat doing back?"
Regulus shrugged, nearly dislodging Crookshanks, who hissed angrily. Sirius lifted the ginger monster off of his brother before Regulus got hurt any worse. "I dunno, really," Regulus admitted. "He was carrying this bit of parchment" —he pulled it out from under the rabbit's shoulders— "but he scratched me when I tried to take it out."
Sirius took it and unfolded it as Crookshanks tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to make his way to and balance on his thin shoulders. Regulus pulled out a penknife and started skinning the rabbit. "Anything interesting?"
"Frankly, Reggie, this doesn't make a lot of sense," Sirius admitted. "It's just a list of random words. A very long list."
Regulus took it back and scanned the column. "'Scurvy Cur' and "Oddsbodkins,'" he read. "These sound like the sorts of things Sir Cadogan used to shout at random passerby."
"You remember him, too?" Sirius asked, grinning absently.
"They were the weirdest two conversations I've ever had that didn't involve you," Regulus pointed out. "Things like that tend to stick in your mind." He glanced over at Crookshanks. "Who exactly took over for the Gryffindor guardian, cat?"
Sirius's eyes widened with recognition. "Exactly! They're passwords, aren't they?"
Crookshanks rubbed against Sirius's ears and purred.
Sirius looked back down at the list. "I wonder how much longer they're current," he mused.
Regulus pointed to the numbers in the upper left hand corner of the parchment. "It's dated. You've got . . . 'til Saturday, I think. Counting tonight, three days. Anything particular going on between now and then?"
"There's the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch game tomorrow."
"And if Gryffindor wins, everyone'll be tired enough to fall asleep quickly after McGonagall goes to break the celebration up," Regulus admitted. "And if they don't everyone'll still be asleep by . . . one-thirty in the morning or so. They'll just be a bit more likely to wake up. You going tomorrow night, then?"
"You're not trying to hold me back?"
"I want your name cleared as much as you do, and at least this time you're guaranteed to get in," Regulus pointed out. "Let's face it, you're not likely to get a better opportunity. And it's not as if I could easily find my way up to Gryffindor Tower, is it?"
Sirius chuckled. "I'll give you that."
"Sirius, I'm not blind," Regulus reminded him. The Quidditch match was over, and he was stretched out on a threadbare sofa in the Shrieking Shack, the pillows and one of the cushions of which he'd already chucked at his brother. "I did see the final score."
Sirius looked over at him, a maniac grin on his face. "You were rooting for Ravenclaw, weren't you?" he asked.
"That depends," his brother answered dryly. "Are you going to continue gloating if I say 'yes'?"
Sirius tossed the sofa cushion back to him. "I'm going to continue gloating whether you were or not," he announced with the same maniac cheerfulness that had made him such an infuriating teenager.
"In that case, yes, I was," Regulus admitted. "I already told you that I don't root for Gryffindor." He shrugged. "So they've won one and lost one— that means they've still got a chance for the cup. Except . . . their last match is against Slytherin, isn't it?"
Sirius snorted. "I hate to rain on your parade, Reggie, but—"
"Yes, yes, I know your bias, and you know mine. You've got to admit that with the rivalries between the two Houses, it's always been the most interesting match of the season."
"I dunno. As much as I like to watch Slytherin get crushed, I'm not that picky about who's doing the crushing."
"Sirius. . . ." Regulus sighed, but he was a hair's breadth from laughing at his brother's usual enthusiasm for Quidditch. He'd been nearly as bad as Potter, even though he didn't play. "Aren't we at least pretending to be mature adults?"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Clearly you've never been to the World Cup. So . . . when are you letting me go after Peter again?"
Regulus took off his watch and tossed it to his brother. To his great surprise, Sirius— who was not usually the most coordinated person in the universe— caught it. "When that says one-thirty, I'll let you go," he announced. "By then everyone'll have gone to bed and you'll have a decent chance of finding him before someone wakes up. And, well . . . if they catch you after you've got him, Dumbledore'll hear you out and you'll be able to prove it."
Author's Note: Sorry about the angsty!Remus we got in the first two scenes of this chapter. I tried three times before I realized that I couldn't make those scenes not angsty. Anyway, reviews . . . Gabwr: don't worry about it; I'm just happy to hear from you. Jackline: I dunno; I see Sirius as a fairly impulsive, rash person, and telling Snape about the knot on the Willow, among other things, certainly points to a reckless man. There are a few things that would make him shudder other than the dementors, but we haven't met them yet, nor will we in 1993. And Sirius and Regulus's relationship . . . well, there are a number of reasons I'm takingthe brother thingslow. Both of them have been through a lot, and neither is entirely ready to open up and discuss it. But thanks for a review that really made me think about my answers! To everyone else: Thanks very much for all your reviews! Cheers! -- Loki