Chapter 18
An Eventful January and Moonpie’s Loss
It was mid August in Grimmauld Place. The house had been undeclared Order of the Phoenix headquarters. In fact, “headquarters” was just sort of looming about; there was no real place for it now”but there Remus was reclining lazily in a great red armchair next to a radiating blue fire in the spacious den of #4 Grimmauld Place.
It was hot and sticky in the house, and a rancid musty scent filled the rooms. The fire was emitting a cooling air, which made the place a bit more bearable. Remus was proud of his accomplishments here; the silencing of Mrs. Black, the discovery of Padfoot’s possessions and the recent removal of Buckbeak had been just a few. Yes, it had been a productive summer and an entertaining one at that (with the company of Padfoot’s diary)… but things would soon change.
New duties lay before Remus. He would be joining those like himself very soon, and it was weighing on him. Such was a task he took with great reluctance. Oh to find a nice flat and move in there, get a set of new robes and start fresh, but no. He had pledged his loyalty to the Order, to Dumbledore and now he must stay true to his oath. Members of the Order had been popping by all day, as if making a final homage to the house, in Sirius’ honor. Although Remus could about bet his life Sirius would have scorned such an act. At any rate, Remus would be out and moving tomorrow, leaving this musty rat-hole behind.
He was now taking part in his ritual paper reading, of which the Quibbler was a usual favorite. Today though, old copies of the Prophet perked his interest. He was reading one article with a particularly skeptical expression, making disapproving clucking noises with his tongue and shaking his head at the nonsense.
“Harry Potter’s hots for Marietta Menshaw, Dragon Blood’s lead singer… Now that’s a load of rubbish if I’ve ever heard any,” Remus mused aloud.
He turned the page and embarked upon a more promising article entitled “Black Truths”. Remus raised an eyebrow as he skimmed through it and quite suddenly tossed his head back with howling laughter, “My God, the idiots!”
Presently there came a loud popping sound from the hearth. Remus’ eyes flew up mechanically; his gaze landing on the face of a witch whose head was hovering between the lapping blue flames. She was middle aged, or just about, with curly brown hair that hung above her shoulders, a long slender nose and ruby red lip color. She was flushing a healthy pink in the strange blue firelight, and covering her curls rested a gracefully fashioned, feather-plumed hat. This was a woman of money, it was apparent at one glance. The witch smiled broadly and opened her mouth, but Remus was the one to speak first.
“Why my dear Miss McGavott, what brings you to Grimmauld Place?”
The witch laughed airily, flipping her hair back in snobbery. “Oh come now Remus, mind your tongue. It’s Mrs. Englebrit if you remember correctly.”
Remus smiled wryly. “Third marriage for you is it?”
The witch pursed her lips and frowned in reproof. “Now lets’ be civil. I had planned to speak to Molly, but seeing as she’s not here…”
Remus’ expression was sagging into what he could not control as a sneer. “Think to try the Burrow perhaps?”
“Obviously I have,” she snapped, then her eyes widened at the sight of the paper in his hands. “Oh what have you there, Remus, the Prophet? I don’t doubt you’ve read my article…”
“Rita Skeeter couldn’t have done better,” Remus remarked sardonically.
Her countenance darkened. “Now you must be fair! My latest report on giant disruptions in Muggle regions was perfectly””
“Yes, that was one of your better ones,” Remus interrupted, “but what about this one here that I’m reading.” He displayed the cover of the two-month-old paper to her.
Her frown deepened and she answered in a fury. “Oh stop looking at me like that! You know the Prophet wants rubbish! With the whole Sirius Black ordeal, I was paid to portray him as a murderous heathen, loose and mad… I write” wrote for spontaneity, shock value… self-entertainment, oh that’s the only way to write these days! No one will take the truth and honest journalism is kicked in the mud. I try Remus, I try… as you saw in my latest report… I try!”
Remus sniffed and brought the paper up to cover his face. “Clearly,” she heard him utter dryly “Listen to this and tell me if it’s honest journalism, Mackenzie.”
Remus read aloud the article “Black Truths”, which claimed Sirius had been cited on a nude beach in Nice, France, enjoying the summer holiday with ease. “Be warned, Black was last seen with a pair of Muggle sun shades and a piñacolada, he may still be armed and dangerous. --Mackenzie Watts, Staff Scriber,” Remus finished the article with a slightly triumphant smile.
Mackenzie was looking most abashed, shiftily biting her lower lip. “Well it gave you a laugh, I hope,” she said sheepishly.
“I just hope Harry didn’t read it is all,” Remus said, folding up the paper and dropping it carelessly to the floor.
Mackenzie’s brows narrowed severely, her voice rising strongly. “If Harry is anything like his father he’ll find it a damn good joke, now if you please… my knees are aching.”
“Good bye then.” Remus didn’t bother to give her another look, plucking up another paper and immersing himself in it.
“Oh… yes-yes… good-bye,” said Mackenzie with a hint of disappointment. She lingered a moment longer and with a crack, Remus was alone.
He waited a moment until he knew she was truly gone to look back into the flames. She hadn’t changed a bit, not a bit.
“My dear Miss McGavott,” he sighed, shaking his head, “Miss McGavott.”
From his pocket Remus retrieved the little book that had led him on so many adventures already this summer, descending into that momentous day in January…
January 15th, 1976:
The Marauders were back at school. In fact, it was their first day back from the holidays… but if you’re still wondering about the lovely tattooed lady on James’ shoulder we will just say that there was a horrible, painful and mightily unsuccessful attempt to remove it. In the end Mrs. Potter merely had them tattoo clothes over her voluptuous body so it wasn’t so “agonizing for the eyes,””her words directly.
As for Sirius, he was allowed to keep his Dog Star masterpiece, much to James’ envy, as long as he kept it covered in the Potter home (though ‘Mum Potter’ felt it was an “obscenity, a ruin to such youthful skin!”). The rest of the holiday had not faired well for him at all.
About a week after Sirius had received the letter from his father, a charred black envelope came, with intimidating, jagged letters, “From the Noble and Most Ancient house of Black… Toujours Pur.”
It was only within a matter of seconds that the envelope began to smolder in his hands and before he knew it, a long regal slip of parchment with shining red letters had read to him a statement of disownment. The golden family seal at the bottom marked it official, and with a flash of light the letter relayed a grieving image: the family tree with his name blasted from it… just as he had predicted. The vile piece of parchment shot flame and it was finished. Young Sirius Black was his own man now, officially, whether he liked it or not.
It took Sirius a day or two to recover from the shock of it all. Mrs. Potter was overly sympathetic which made things worse, and Mr. Potter had offered him a fatherly heart to heart, which had helped some but he had still felt dreadfully awkward about it. The whole ordeal had left him antsy to leave the Potter estate. It was a too close for comfort, Sirius decided and he began counting down the days until he returned to Hogwarts. He knew he could not take advantage of the Potters hospitality again, all the while pretending to be their son. It was unfulfilling and it was becoming a guilty burden. After the break he swore he’d never do it again.
Returning to school was relieving for Sirius. Hogwarts greeted him with open doors, and though he would not enjoy the prospect of schoolwork, it was the atmosphere Sirius enjoyed.
The memory Remus had slipped into took place in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory. James and Sirius were stationed on the floor, sprawled on their stomachs, skimming through the latest article of Witch Weekly. They had numerous clippings about them and a variety of other magazines, including Quidditch in the Country and WQ (Wizard’s Quarterly). They were using a simple sheering charm to cut images out, making grotesque arrangements, such as pasting a St. Bernard’s head to a buxom bikini body, and whooping with laughter at their creations. Neither Moony nor Peter had arrived yet and Sirius and James felt the need to indulge in inane entertainment.
“Charming,” Sirius grinned as James displayed his latest cut-out creation”a gumball machine replaced as the head of the Minister of Magic. “I think he’s far more useful that way, actually.”
James tossed this down and began some rapid shearing wand work, turning slightly away from Sirius to hide what he was doing, an impish smile forming on his lips.
“What are you doing?” Sirius frowned.
“Something magnificent,” James managed to answer in his intense snipping. “Aha!” he cried suddenly, revealing an evidently false and tampered picture of Lily and James in a passionate embrace.
Sirius admired it for a moment. “Really very good, mate, but where on earth did you get a picture of Lily in that!” (The “that” he was referring to was a revealing lace night-set).
James flushed brightly, caught off guard without a worthy answer. However, the awkwardness of having to answer Sirius’ question passed because the figure of Moony was standing silently at the door.
“Remus!” James greeted him brightly.
Moony’s suitcase was still in hand, and his sandy blonde hair was sticking up in the front, as if he had just come out of a snowstorm. There was an odd, blank expression on his face. He looked shocked and almost severe, dreadful in fact.
“How was your holiday?” James asked, smile drooping upon viewing Moony’s appearance.
Moony said nothing and continued to frown in that mysterious dismal way.
James and Sirius exchanged bewildered looks. This was unusual for this time of month. Moony wasn’t set to be glum and grouchy for another two weeks.
“Something wrong, Remus?” Sirius asked as Moony threw down his luggage in a forceful, violent manner. His eyebrows narrowed darkly, biting his lip… biting back anger as he threw himself down on his bed. He gave them no reply but broody silence.
“Remus,” Sirius cued him again when he received no answer.
“What’s with the rain cloud, Moonpie?” James questioned wryly, impatient with his apparently mute friend.
“Don’t call me that,” Moony growled tensely, finally speaking.
James was leaning against his bedpost, arms crossed and a countenance both irritated and perplexed. “What’s the matter with you? We’re giving you a cheerful holiday hello and you’re being… prickly!”
“Prickly?” Sirius asked James with a grin.
“Well I couldn’t think of a better word,” James said quickly and turned his attention back to Moony. “What’s with you mate, I know coming back to school isn’t a grand… hoopla, but aren’t you a little glad to see us?”
“Hoopla?” Sirius threw in quickly with a snort. James ignored this.
Moony shifted on his bed uncomfortably, uttering in an agitated tone, “Oh yes I am. It’s just…” the rest was all indistinguishable mumble.
“What?” Sirius asked, cupping his hand to his ear.
“I said”” Moony began spitefully, but sighed dejectedly and wilted. “I said… I got dumped.”
James blinked. Sirius blinked. Five seconds passed and then, “DUMPED?” Sirius cried loudly.
“Oh don’t say that again,” Moony wailed, covering his ears as if the words were painful to hear. “It only makes it worse!”
James mouth was hanging open dumbly as he began stuttering. “Who-what… wait, you and McGavott? You dumped… wait, she?”
“McGavott dumped me?! Me, ten minutes ago… maybe more, it seemed like an hour just walking up the staircase.” Moony gave another weary sigh and looked to his friends with the most pained expression they’d ever seen.
“I can’t believe it,” he said throwing up his hands. “I don’t’ even know why, it was just sort of… ‘It’s over, I’m sorry, I’m seeing Diggory, things change’… and she left me standing there. I didn’t even get a word in.”
To Moony, it wasn’t so much Mackenzie McGavott he was miserable about losing, it was the idea that someone that had seemed to care for him for all those months could end things so swiftly. McGavott represented every single woman Remus ever fell for, and it proved to be an agonizing romantic road ahead of him.
“That’s rough,” James managed, shaking his head, just as stunned as Moony. “That’s really, really rough.”
Sirius on the other hand was spilling over with fury, expressing the anger Moony could not. “That damn, weasely, witchy, tart! What the hell’s the matter with her, letting off a brilliant wizard like you? What the bloody hell’s the matter!”
“I just can’t understand it,” Moony murmured softly to the floor.
The boys pondered silently, solemnly… It felt like a funeral to Sirius. Again, Moony got hit the hardest. The Marauder that already had enough problems on his plate, including his furry one, always got burned. Sirius was a firm believer in payback and anyone who rubbed his mate wrong would get a dose, if not a stronger one, of their own medicine. James, it seemed, was thinking along the same lines.
“We’re going to do her in, we’re going to make her life miserable”and we’ll hit Diggory too!” James plotted adamantly, slamming his fist forcefully into the palm of his hand.
“Oh don’t bring him into this!” cried Moony, whose voice was muffled in a pillow he had just flung himself against. “There’s enough of a mess already. Mackenzie and me… our relationship was dying anyway.”
“Can you stop being so sensible!” shot Sirius. “I’m tired of all these damn sensible people; they’ve pissed me off enough so far. You know you’re angry with the little tart”you know you are”I know you are!”
“So I am,” cried Moony in exasperation, “so what? There’s nothing I can do about it. What do you want me to do, stew and brood? That’d be a holy waste of time.”
James came and sat next to Moony on the bed, clapping his friend on the shoulder firmly. “Well, you just forget about her then, I’d like to see you try, and in the mean time Sirius and I will plan her punishment.”
Moony looked at him warningly.
“You know you want us to,” James said before Moony could retaliate.
There was a long pause, and then Moony spoke, giving way to a smile, “Well… you can’t leave me out of the planning.”
“That’s my boy,” chimed James, giving Moony another brisk back slap. “Oh! Let’s have Peeves do her in!”
“No,” Sirius said ponderously. “We’ll have to take time and plan…we’re really going to do McGavott in… big time.”
>>
>>
It was mighty difficult getting back into the swing of “academia”. After a grueling morning of potions and the return of their previous glutton professor, Slughorn (Vicar had returned to the Orient to research forms of slump root), the Marauders were not relieved whatsoever when Flitwick informed them that they would be “conjuring” that day in charms.
The students still looked drained, an excess of holiday partying and cheer now left everyone sluggish, causing them to bear forlorn expressions. Many students were even found releasing great dramatic sighs every few minutes (Sirius was one of these people). As for Flitwicks’s class today, everyone came in with maimed, disturbed expressions” apparently they had witnessed an unpleasant full moon view from Slughorn the period before when he stooped down to retrieve a wondering vile.
James had noted mournfully that Lily was not amongst them. No more information concerning Lily’s parents had been passed to either Sirius or James since their return to school. There was almost a fear of discussing it. When people went missing, or didn’t come back, it was the silent fear that Death Eaters had gotten to them, that this hidden clan had rid them off the earth. It was trepidation that kept everyone silent about Lily. If they were caught talking, would they be next?
Things had changed though, Sirius discovered upon his return. Mail was checked, corridors more closely watched, and curfew set at eight instead of nine (not that that stopped him); but there was certainly a sense of fear, a frostness about the school, not solely caused by the icy winter weather.
This was an extra thought that filled Sirius’ brain as Flitwick squeakily called the class to attention. It wouldn’t have mattered because he noticed the girl with the long black hair and prickly personality, Stella Sinistra. He had received a nagging about her in the letter his father had sent him. One kiss could kill him? It hadn’t so far. Disowned and he was still alive, and content… minimally. He had been delusional, now that he thought of it, to believe she would have made a pretty pairing with him. The only thing pretty would be her face shoved into… well never mind that.
It was one of the most abnormal class periods Sirius ever had to endure. Not only had the pressure of conjuring been something of a difficult task, but the tension between Moony and McGavott was as thick and present as the looming London fog. Mackenzie had retreated from her usual position next to Moony and joined Stella and the Ravenclaw clan. Moony’s nostrils flared as he watched her attempt to conjure the plump emerald green pincushion Flitwick had the requested the class to produce. This caused him to be less artful in his attempts, stealing loathsome glances at his lost lover (in this he could hardly utter the incantation correctly).
Sirius was experiencing his own relational difficulties. He had noticed Elise, who was casting him fraught, desperate glances. He thought it odd; especially after that tetchy letter she had sent him during the holiday. My God, she was a hard one to read. First she sends a dispatch of pure curt and utter rudeness and then she goggles at him with those crazy eyes like she’d scrub his bathroom floors if he asked her to. However, there was something singular in her glances. They were nervous… more than desperate; there was something else in her expression. Sirius almost believed her eyes would spill over with tears any moment and because of this fear treated her like a ghost. He had enough drama in his life. He didn’t need the added weight of spinster Collier. Sirius scanned the class, surveying how his mates were coming along.
Moony was stationed at a desk with Peter, who was having his own troubles conjuring (he thought he had managed to produce something, however with his swift and energetic wand movements, he had somehow slipped Judith Stebbins red hair scrunchie onto his wand. To which he cried, “Look, I did it!” She quickly noticed his flub and snatched it off his wand. “No you idiot, that’s mine”). Sirius and James were close by and already near to mastering the art. James pincushion had been larger than usual and for this Flitwick gave Gryffindor a healthy 5 points.
“Just don’t look at her Remus,” James whispered to his werewolf mate. “It’ll sting her worse if it looks like you weren’t bothered at all.”
“Well I’m not quite as good at pretending as you are, Prongs,” Moony hissed back between clenched teeth. “God, I hate double periods.”
Although, James’ words had somehow given Moony inspiration and within minutes he had well perfected the conjuring technique.
By the end of the first hour, even Peter was well on his way to conjuring other articles. A piece of cake was his first accomplishment and he ate it ravenously beneath his desk. At his side, Moony’s articles were changing quickly in his fury, appearing to be sharp, pointed objects that mirrored his frustration with McGavott. Meanwhile, James’ pincushion became a figurine of a dashboard hula doll (although Remus could have sworn it had red hair). Sirius produced some dog treats and then an unspeakable piece of lingerie that he hid promptly beneath the desk when Flitwick walked by.
“Wish I had that talent,” James uttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I wonder if you could do that to Sinistra while she’s walking by… or does the object have to be stationary? We’d better try it on Sniveullus first.”
Despite the exciting nature of this class activity, Sirius was growing, undeniably, bored. Besides, Flitwick was starting to lecture, and he desperately wanted to avoid those expectant glances from Elise that were driving him a little insane. Wanted to ogle at him, did she? Well then, he would punish her with silence and ignore her like he should have to begin with… before she wrote that nasty letter.
It really was maddening, so he gathered up his books and tossed the pincushion turned lingerie on Sinistra’s desk, sniggering, “You left this last night,” and slipped out before he could hear her loutish protest.
There had been enough buzz about the class that his escape had gone unnoticed, and now he was alone strolling the corridors. He really hadn’t had much of a plan after this and so he stood there a moment peeping out a small circular window next a headless suit of armor and the painting of scenic back drop. There was usually a withered washer woman on the canvas, but Sirius assumed she had gone for a stroll… possibly to borrow some more laundry pins.
There at the window, eyes transfixed on the frosted campus, mainly the Quidditch pitch, Sirius sought the root of the matter… the matter with whole blasted, confusing year. From the very beginning of this semester, things had started off rotten, and were continually declining. Where was the sunshine, the joy in his own brilliance and ability to woo and charm… where was Sirius Black and what was happening to the world around him? He established that these were things he would have to confide in his diary, but on a later occasion.
At this time he was seriously considering a nap in the common room when the shrill calling of McGonagall startled him from his peaceful window contemplation.
“Black, what are you doing out of class?”
She looked rather flustered as she approached him, arms akimbo and hands clutching two great clumps of letters. He assumed she was reviewing her holiday mail”for a moment a vision of a small dancing elf on as Christmas card popped into his head, an annoying music box melody tinkling in his ears. This somewhat disturbing thought exited his mind as McGonagall continued to frown at him, her left brow twitching for an answer.
“I needed some fresh air, professor,” Sirius admitted shamelessly.
She made a skeptical sound in her throat. “Indeed, well it is a lucky thing I found you when I did”this just came for you.”
She unsheathed one of the letters she had carrying in her parcel and handed it briskly to Sirius.
“Sirius B. Black” it read in sketchy blue ink, the parchment crisp and new. As he brought it closer up to examine the writing he noted that it smelled of aged tobacco and pungent cologne.
My middle initial doesn’t start with a B, Sirius thought initially, and then a flood of thoughts filled his mind. It was a pun, and that writing, and the tobacco… His insides rushed with warmth as he recognized who the sender had been.
“This one was hand delivered Black… so read it some place safe, undisturbed,” McGonagall instructed him with a lowered voice.
“Who”?” Sirius began, looking up from the envelope, but McGonagall cut him off with a raised hand.
“You’ll see,” she reassured him, in a voice that was considerably more maternal than usual. “Now, do get yourself out of the halls before I have to dock points!”
A mist overtook the next memory; swirling and landing Remus sprawled on his back. An observer of Sirius’ memories does get kicked about a fair amount of times, Remus reflected as he gruffly massaged his side. He was in the Owlery, and the quartet of the past, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, were just making their way inside. The vast heavy wood doors clanked behind them as they stepped over clumps of floor strewn feathers and droppings, making their way to the collection of available owls on their lofty wall perches. A bitter wind was whipping in through the glassless windows, and early sprinklings of snow were fast intruding on the fowls’ sanctuary.
“Why are we here anyhow?” Peter asked tetchily, shying away from a particularly daunting red-eyed owl that was casting him a warning, venomous glare. “How can you stand the smell… animals,” he spat in revulsion.
“I don’t see why you’re so worked up, we’ll only be here a minute,” Moony replied wearily, looking back at Peter. He was at the window catching the fresh biting breeze. It was apparent that his session with Flitwick and McGavott had sent him into a greater developed state of gloominess.
“Yeah, that’s coming from a bloke that turns into a rat every…” James started to say, but Peter ssh-ed him hastily. “No one’s listening,” James snapped back. “But Padfoot, why are we here?”
Sirius dug his hands into his pockets, retrieving the letter McGonagall had handed him earlier. “I got this after skiving off Charms… looks like I’ve run into a bit of luck, mates.”
James cast him a quizzical glance, dubiously taking the paper from Sirius hands. Both he and Moony hovered over the letter, noses nearly pressed against the parchment as they read:
Dear Sirius,
I’ve just recently heard of your misfortune back at Grimmauld Place. Though I am aware that this occurrence might now be history to you, it is certainly news to me. Things are going very well at the Industry and I believe I might be in order to aid you. Send me the dates to your next Hogsmeade trip so we can meet and discuss your current position.
Always wield your sharpest edge, harsh times are ahead… I want you alive before out next meeting.
Salutations,
Uncle Alphard
“What do you reckon he really wants?” James queried, handing the letter back to Sirius, who was scrounging around in his robes for a writing utensil.
“I’ll have to find out, won’t I? Quill please,” Sirius requested, holding out his hand.
Moony hastily retrieved the feathered object from his robes. “I’ve never heard of this uncle before,” he asserted as Sirius snatched the quill from his hands.
“My dad’s brother… only likeable chap on his side.”
Sirius flipped the letter over and wrote in a quick messy scrawl-
I’ll meet you at the Three Broomsticks on Monday, January 22nd at 4:00.
Sincerely yours,
Sirius
Moony frowned. “But we don’t have a trip set for the twenty second, the next visit to town’s not for another two weeks.”
“Yeah,” shrugged Sirius. “But he doesn’t know that.”
“But that’s when our essays for are due for Binns,” demurred Moony.
“Pity,” said Sirius, crisply sealing the envelope.
“But detention, Sirius…” Moony began in a reproachful tone.
“Builds character, I know.”
Moony frowned but said nothing, watching the tawny owl float out the window with the letter clutched in its talons.
>>
>>