Fashions of Fate (Baby It's Too Late)
SIRIUS
To no ones surprise, it was raining in Wales.
Lyall Lupins address had been easy to find in the files and even though Sirius really doubted that Lily and Remus would hide with the man that had Remus originally reported for lycanthrophy, they had to pursue every possibility.
“Nice, isn't it?” James asked. “So rural.”
Sirius gave him a look. The cottage was positioned on the outskirts of the small village on the edge of the forest. Its slate roof almost grew into the low hanging branches of the first trees. On their way to the door, they crossed a large garden which flourishing greenery was dampened by the rain. Lupin, the small nameplate on the green-painted door read.
James swung the knocker and Sirius ended the umbrella charm that had kept them dry until now.
The door was answered by a tall man of advancing age. Sirius didn't need to ask if this was Remus Lupins father. Remus was the spitting image of this man, with the difference of thirty years and a lot of scars.
“Lyall Lupin?” James asked anyway and gave the tall wizard a polite smile. “My name's James Potter, this is my partner Sirius Black. We are Aurors at the Ministry of Magic and have some questions for you. May we come in?”
“You may,” Lupin agreed. His voice was as deep as his sons, but not as hoarse. Maybe Remus smoked and his father didn't. As they entered the cottage behind him, Sirius mused that Lyall Lupin probably did not have a lot of vices. He was dressed in slacks and a tidy shirt with a corduroy vest. His light brown hair was streaked with white strands and neatly combed back.
Lyall Lupin lead them into a very clean little kitchen. There was a framed portrait of a smiling woman on the wall above the kitchen table. It was a magical portrait, but the woman only blinked from time to time and with the movement, her smile seemed forced.
“My wife,” Lyall explained when he saw Sirius studying the portrait. “Hope. She passed away fifteen years ago.”
So Remus had lost his mother when he was ten years old. Sirius didn't know what to say, but that was what partners were for.
“Our condolences,” James said. “May I ask what did she die of?”
“A muggle disease,” Lyall answered. He lifted his chin the smallest bit, almost provokingly. As if to say Yes, my wife has been a muggle. What are you gonna do about it?
“Sorry to hear that,” James repeated. Sirius just nodded along. Marriages between muggles and wizards technically were not illegal, even though his own mother would rather have him killed than marry a muggle (or even a muggleborn). It was just bad taste.
“Have a seat then,” Lyall said shortly. “Tea?”
They nodded and he put the kettle on. Sirius looked around the small kitchen again, but he couldn't find any evidence that there had ever been more family to Lyall than his deceased wife. No picture of Remus, not even as a child.
“So, I assume you came to talk about by son,” Lyall said after he had served both of them a cup of strong black tea. The older man did not sit down himself, but leaned against the kitchen counter, his own tea in hand.
“Yes,” Sirius answered. “Do you know about his current whereabouts?”
Lyall gave a dry, humourless laugh. “I haven't known about Remus' whereabouts for eight years now.”
“How come?” Sirius asked. He didn't care about being polite. James tried to kick him under the table, but Sirius had grown up with Regulus and didn't even blink.
Lyall surveyed him for a moment. When he started to talk, he did so without any emotion in his voice. “Remus is a werewolf,” he said openly. “He has been bitten as a little child, when he was five years old. It was very hard, taking care of a child that turned into a flesh-eating beast every month. Especially for Hope, as she was a muggle and even less able to control him during the full moons. It wrecked her,” he added, almost accusingly.
“I can imagine,” James said empathetically. Sirius didn't say anything. Sure, it must've been hard for a muggle woman to raise a werewolf. But Lyall made it sound like it was the childs fault.
“After she passed away, I didn't see any other solution but to have him registered,” Lyall continued. “I couldn't handle him any more. He kept saying to lock him up, to chain him down during these nights but he grew stronger every month. I was scared for my own safety.”
“Of course you were,” James agreed. Sirius stayed silent, trying not to think of a ten year old boy, asking his father to chain him up instead of reporting him to the Ministry.
“That's when he got the letter,” Lyall said, taking a sip of his tea. “Dumbledore really was a out of his mind, if you ask me. But he agreed to take the boy in to Hogwarts, let him attend school and help him transform safely there. I was sceptical, but Remus literally begged for it. So we made a deal: he was allowed to attend Hogwarts, to get a proper education. But when he'd come of age and finish his diploma, he'd go to the Ministry and register himself.”
“That is a very fair agreement,” James lied.
Lyall nodded slowly. “I thought so too. Seven years of reprieve. Other werewolves would have dreamed of that.”
Sirius couldn't take it anymore and decided to shorten this little story. “But he didn't, right?” he answered. “Register himself when he finished school. So you did it for him.”
Lyall blinked in surprise. Sirius knew he probably looked visibly angry but didn't care to hide it.
“Yes,” Lyall agreed after a moment. “He told me he would never give away his wand and get locked in a cage by the Ministry. I reminded him of our agreement and he said if I wanted him registered, I had to do it myself. Then he stormed off and I haven't seen him since. The next morning, I owled his report to the Ministry.”
“You were only consequent,” James said.
“Yes,” Lyall agreed. “I was only trying to do what's best for everyone.”
Sirius snorted and stood up. He hadn't touched his tea. “Do you have any of his old things? Can we see his room?”
Lyall stared at him. “No,” he said then. “I have given everything away and burned the rest. There is no room either. I have turned it into my library.”
Sirius gave another sarcastic snort.
“Have a look around, yeah?” he told James. “I'll wait outside.”
And without thanking Lyall for the tea, Sirius stormed out of the disgustingly tidy kitchen, back into the rain.
No wonder Remus ended their talk last night when Sirius mentioned his father, he thought angrily when he fiddled for his cigarette case. He kept saying to lock him up. Other werewolves would have dreamed of that.
“You old coward,” Sirius said loudly into the garden and took a deep drag of his cigarette. He remembered saying to James that his own mother would have rather killed him than admit to the whole world she had a werewolf for a son. Clearly, Lyall Lupin didn't have the same concern. He decided to bargain his sons freedom for his own comfort.
Dumbledore really was out of his mind. Sirius didn't know a lot about Albus Dumbledore. His own mother had despised him and Sirius remembered her triumphant laugh when Dumbledore had been sentenced to Azkaban. How did Remus manage to transform every month safely for seven years of school? Sirius remembered the deep flesh wound in his side when he had first found him in the shack. The broken leg. The laceration on his temple.
“And?” Sirius asked when James stepped out into the rain about ten minutes later.
“Nothing,” his partner answered. “No documents, no photographs. The room really is a library.”
Sirius snorted. “What a waste of time,” he said and flicked his cigarette stump into the neatly kept garden. “Let's go then. We have a meeting with Crouch in half an hour.”
He ignored the worried look James gave him and walked away from the small cottage without looking back.
LILY
Lily was stuck up to her elbows into bubbly foam.
Petunia had hissed, “If you're going to stay here, you'll make yourselves useful!”, then left Lily with stack of dirty dishes as high as her head and shooed Remus into the garden with a hedge trimmer. Now, she had gone out grocery shopping while Vernon was at work in his drill-making company.
Lily would never admit it, put she liked to do chores around the house. Not because she liked being a housewife, but because doing things by hand reminded her of her own home, her muggle parents and the unknowing happiness she had felt back then.
Would this be so bad? Lily wondered while she was scrubbing a coffee mug, blowing a cluster of shimmering foam bubbles off her nose. A magic-less life, doing dishes, working at companies, living in terraced houses? Stop running, stop fighting? This was what the Ministry wanted her to do, after all. Break her wand and go live with her own kind.
But then Lily remembered Hogwarts, the castle, the friends she had made there, the intoxicating feeling of conjuring something out of thin air, of doing something that was technically impossible. The tingling excitements of magic rushing through her body, of creating. No, no amount of coupon codes could ever replace that.
With a grim expression, Lily drew out her wand and gave the stack of dishes a gentle knock. The porcelain rushed into the bubbly sink like a flock of white birds, emerging in a neat row, sparkling clean. Lily flicked her wand and the kitchen towel raised up, hugging each plate into a drying embrace. Afterwards, they sorted themselves neatly into the kitchen cupboards.
Enough self-pity, Lily thought as she folded the towel. I am a witch, for Godrics sake.
She found Remus sitting cross-legged next to the still untrimmed hedge, a book in his lap. He looked up through his unkempt fringe and gave her one of his trademark sad smiles. Vernons old shirt was hanging loosely from his shoulders.
“I'm not seeing you making yourself useful,” Lily teased and dropped down on the grass next to him. He was reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being which made Lily roll her eyes. He just grinned back.
“Finished the dishes already?” Remus asked. She hummed and watched him carefully marking the page in his book before closing it..
Remus had been her best friend since she was ten years old, shaking with nervousness when she struggle to drag her trunk through the Hogwarts Express for the first time, already homesick and with a gum in her braid that Petunia put there as an goodbye present. Lily very clearly remembered the quiet boy with the sad eyes who had helped her put her trunk up and avoided eye contact for most of the train ride, frantically pulling his jumper over his hands to hide the pale scar in his palm. Remus still did this from time to time, even if the scars had spread well past his collar and sleeves by now. Lily had drawn the right conclusion in second year already, but it had taken her until Remus' fifteenth birthday to muster up the courage and ask him about it. She would never forget the utter disbelief in his face when she told him it didn't matter that he was a werewolf, they would still be friends. It had broken her heart.
“We should make a plan,” Lily said now. Remus blinked at her.
“You think?” he asked. “I thought we could just stay here until one day I use the wrong fork and your sister will finish my sufferings forever.”
“I have a friend,” Lily said, ignoring him. “I – haven't seen him in a long time, but I think he would help us.”
“What friend?” Remus asked suspiciously. Lily evaded his gaze and started to play with a daisy that had survived Vernons lawn mower.
“Lily,” Remus insisted. “What friend?”
“He was in Slytherin,” Lily answered innocently. Remus groaned.
“You can't be serious,” he said. “Snape? He will never help us, Lils. Escpecially not me. He hates me.”
“He doesn't hate you,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “He's – not a people person, okay?”
“Whenever I saw him back in Hogwarts he looked like he wanted to strangle me for walking near to you.”
“He was just protective.”
“Whatever,” Remus rolled his eyes. “Can't we think of anyone – literally anyone else? What about the guy you write to every month?”
“I don't know where he is,” Lily murmured. “I just have this address for the letters and – in case of emergency.”
“Well, I would bloody call our situation an emergency,” Remus snorted. “Where is the address?”
“It's in Devon,” Lily answered. Remus cursed.
“That's too far to apparate,” he said. “And we cannot really use a public portkey, can we?”
“I think I can get Tuney to keep us in for a few more nights,” Lily sighed. “Let's decide then, okay?”
“Alright,” Remus answered. Lily suspected that he did not really have anything against staying at one place for a while longer. “By the way, do you remember that hedge trimming charm?”
SIRIUS
It was well past midnight when Sirius was finally settling into one of the huge armchairs in their living room. Their meeting with Crouch had gone horribly, as expected. He had listened to their explanation that they were planning to check on families of the escapees, that Lyall Lupin hadn't been helpful at all but that they wanted to check on Lilys Evans parents next. At that point, Crouch had told them briskly that they could do that tomorrow, because he was not willing to release them from their usual duties to fix an error they had made out of pure stupidity. Then he had assigned both of them a large pile of administrative fines to proofread for the rest of the day.
Now, Sirius head was filled with complicated words and nested sentences and he really didn't want to ever think about punctuation ever again. James had gone to bed about an hour ago, but Sirius was not really an early sleeper. Also he wanted to try something, and he didn't want his partner to get wind of that.
Sirius pulled his legs against his chest and took Lupins wand from the coffee table in front of him. It felt completely different than his own, warm and simple, fitting in his hand perfectly. His own wand, the Black wand that had been passed to the current Black Heir for generations, had always felts less like wood, but more like stone.
Sirius closed his eyes and imagined his own wand, in an unknown location, but undoubtedly in reach of a lanky werewolf. Then, Sirius swung the hazel wand, just a gentle flick. A tingling sensation grew in his palm, spreading warmth up to his elbow.
“Will you talk to me again?” Sirius asked into the empty room.
For a moment, he thought Lupin wouldn't answer and that he, Sirius, was just an idiot talking to his wand. But then, the werewolves deep, scratchy voice answered.
“Not about my father.”
“That's fine,” Sirius answered. After meeting Lyall Lupin and hearing him talk about his son, he wasn't really keen on the subject either.
On the other side of the room, James' huge bawn owl, Barnabas, opened a yellow eye from where it was sitting on its bar.
“You only want to talk to me so I'll slip a tip on where we are,” Lupin said sceptically. Sirius smiled when Barberus spread his wings and landed on the armrest next to him.
“Just tell me where you are and find out if I still talk to you then,” he teased.
Lupin snorted. “You're not as funny as you think, you know?” he asked.
“I am hilarious,” Sirius assured himself and Barberus, who was squeezing his eyes shut with pleasure as Sirius gently caressed his plumage.
“Why do you want to arrest me?” Lupin suddenly asked. He sounded tired. “My life is already miserable. Why do you want me to go to Azkaban so bad?”
Sirius blinked. He hadn't thought about that, actually.
“You're a werewolf,” he tried.
“Yes,” Lupin answered. His voice became even more scratchy when he was tired. “Is that a crime?”
“I mean -,” Sirius fell silent for a moment. “No, lycanthropy itself is not a crime, but you are dangerous.”
“I am dangerous?” Lupin repeated.
“Yes, you could hurt people. You can even bite them and spread the disease.”
“Then help me not to do it,” Lupin answered. “Provide places where I can transform safely, without being a danger. Invest in potion research to help find a cure. Let me work real jobs so I don't have to live on the street and can afford real medication and maybe help to shape laws that protect both humans and werewolves. Isn't a cornered animal the most dangerous?”
Sirius stared at the candleholder on the coffee table in front of him.
Lupin snorted. “You've never thought about it that way, have you?”
“No,” Sirius admitted. “Can you even transform safely?”
“Yes,” Lupin answered. He seemed surprised that Sirius wanted to talk about that. “I have actually, my whole life. Chained up, usually, and in a locked room.”
“And that's safe?”
Lupin stayed silent for a moment. “For others, yes.”
Remus begged for me to chain him up. Lyall Lupins voice was loud in Sirius head.
“Do you remember what you did as a wolf when you've transformed back?” he asked curiously, pulling his knees to his chest and rolling into a warm ball in his armchair. Barnabas hooted silently.
“Not really. I remember feelings. Sometimes colours,” Lupin answered.
“And how does the wolf feel? Angry?”
Lupin thought about it for a moment. “Sometimes. But mostly, he is scared.”
Sirius had put his head back and closed his eyes. Lupins deep voice seemed to vibrate through his body. “Are you scared?”
There was a moment of silence until Lupin finally answered. “I'm tired.”
Sirius thought about it for a moment. He could say Then stop running and let me catch you. Or Just tell me where you are and you can rest. Instead he said drowsily, “I like your voice.”
There was a moment of silence. When Lupin answered, he didn't sound tired any more. “Your being really obvious, you know?”
“About what?”
“About flirting with me so I'll underestimate you.”
Sirius smiled. “I didn't even know you were gay.”
Lupin didn't sound convinced. “Then you've probably just been trying your luck.”
“So you are?”
“What?”
“Gay?”
“Oh,” Lupin hummed. Sirius could practically hear him wonder if his sexuality was a crucial information that could help them find him. Seemingly, he decided that it wasn't and answered: “Yeah.”
“Poor Evans,” Sirius teased and crawled Barnabas under his beak.
“She can cope.”
Barnabas opened one yellow eye and looked at Sirius. Are you planning on getting somewhere here? the bird seemed to ask.
“What did you mean when you said you can transform safely for others?” Sirius asked. “Why were you so beat up when we found you at the shack?”
There was a moment of silence. Lupin was obviously thinking about it.
“Probably because the wolf doesn't like to be chained down or locked in,” he finally said. “It wants to hunt I suppose, but because there is nothing to chase, it bites and scratches itself.”
Sirius hummed, gently massaging Barnabas' head. “But if you have been locked away during every full moon – that means the wolf, your wolf has never met another living creature, right?”
“I suppose,” Lupin said. He sounded vaguely surprised, as if he had never thought about that.
“Must be pretty lonely,” Sirius mused.
For a moment, Lupin stayed silent. Then he said in a cold voice, “Don't pity me.”
“Oh, I don't,” Sirius ensured him. “I still think you're a devious criminal.”
Lupin snorted. “Of course you do,” he said. “You must.”
“Yes,” Sirius agreed gently. “I must.”
There was a moment of silence, during which Barnabas closed his eyes happily.
Finally, Lupin spoke again. “I need to go.”
“Busy day tomorrow?”
“Nice try.”
Sirius laughed. Then he decided to dare one last advance.
“Good night, Remus,” he said, just as a trial.
Another moment of silence.
“Good night, Sirius,” the other one answered. Then, the tickling sensation expired, which meant that the connection had been broken.
Sirius leaned back into the armchair and tried not to have a single thought.
JAMES
The next morning, they took an express portkey to Cokeworth, an ugly little muggle city in the midlands. Sirius had needed almost ten minutes to coax their transportation device out of the strict looking witch at the Portkey Office and had to promise her two cards for The Hobgoblins in the end. The portkey (a generic silver coin) had brought them directly into a dirty alley between two large brock buildings.
“Remember, we are elefishians,” James said now and tipped his own and then Sirius' robes quickly with his wand.
“It's electishians, James,” Sirius corrected him and watched, as his dark-grey Auror robes turned into a black boilersuit with a white shirt underneath. The patch on his chest read Black & Co., Advanced Electrical Installations Ldt.- We bring light into the darkness!
“Very funny,” Sirius said dryly, but seemed to get into a better mood anyways.
“I always am,” James answered with a grin. “Shall we go? The address is in a five minute walking distance.”
Tucking their wands away safely, they left the dirty little alley to find themselves on a big, even dirtier road without a pavement to it. Even for a muggle city, Cokeworth appeared to be very depressing. The buildings were all made out of identical brick and while they walked along the big street, James could see an immense chimney towering over the rooftops. It was hard to imagine what I would be like to grow up here as a muggle-born, the only magical creature in such an average town.
The Evans family home was easy to find, another inconspicuous brick house with a dapper little front garden. It was the only one in the street with a lawn gnome though, its little red hat being a touch of colour in this grey neighbourhood.
James exchanged one last gaze with his partner, then he pressed the little brass button next to the name plate, which was somehow supposed to tell the residing muggles that there was someone at the door.
“Coming!” a friendly voice yelled from the inside. And the, after a moment of rattling and tapping, the front door was opened by a small woman with blonde hair and wired glasses, framing a pair of shimmering green eyes. She was wearing a frilly apron over a pale blue dress and a wide smile on her face.
“Oh,” she said when she saw James and Sirius on her doorstep, dressed like two muggle tradesmen.
“Good day, Ma'am,” James said with a polite smile. “We are here for the electrifical issues you have called about.”
The woman – Mrs. Evans, undoubtedly – looked rather confused. “Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't called anyone – maybe my husband did -”
“Would you mind asking him, Ma'am?” James said. “We are rather busy and would really like not to have to come again.”
“Sure!” Mrs. Evans assured. “He is upstairs – would you like to come in for a moment?”
“Very kind,” Sirius agreed and followed James into the small corridor. The walls were decorated with a corny floral wallpaper and tons of pictures, showing a small family of three – mother, father and a blonde daughter. A ginger cat meowed loudly at them and started to press against Sirius' leg immediately, purring loudly.
“It'll be just a moment,” Mrs. Evans assured them and hurried up the small, white-painted stairs.
James gave Sirius, who had kneeled down instantly to caress the ginger cat, a strict look.
“She's not on the pictures,” James whispered, studying a group photo of a few small children holding huge pointy bags.
“Could be a feint,” Sirius shrugged, crawling the cat's chin. “Shall I get them or you?”
“I can do it,” James shrugged, drawing his wand out of the handy deep pockets of his boilersuit.
There was clattering on the stairs and Mrs. Evans reappeared, followed by an elderly man with auburn hair.
“We are so sorry,” the man said, stepping into the corridor next to his wife, “but there must've been a mistake, none of us called an electrician.”
“Ah, I knew we said it wrong,” Sirius noted and rolled his eyes.
“It's a complicated word,” James shrugged and turned around, pointing his wand at the couple and starting to make slow circling motions on eyes-level.
Both Evans immediately fell silent, their gazes turning foggy.
“Everything is alright,” James said in a soft voice to not break their trance. “We will leave in a few minutes and you will forget that we were even here.”
Mr. Evans nodded slowly, his eyes wide and staring into nothing. Sirius straightened up, the fat ginger cat purring happily in his arms.
“We are looking for a woman called Lily Evans,” James said, still in this gentle tone. “Do you know where she is?”
“No,” Mr. Evans answered, his voice brittle.
Sirius frowned. “But she has lived here, hasn't she?”
Mrs. Evans, small and fragile next to her man, answered this time, “We do not know anyone of this name.”
James continued to slowly draw circles in the air with his wand hand. Was his charm not strong enough?
“This is her,” he said, fishing the photograph of Lily Evans with her potion prize out his pocket and presenting it to the two muggles. “Do you recognize her?”
Mrs. Evans eyes slowly dropped on the photograph. There was no sign of recognition on her face.
“No,” she answered slowly. Mr. Evans slowly shook his head.
“Great,” Sirius sighed. “Marvellous. This is going fantastic so far.”
“She is your daughter,” James persisted, grabbing his wand more tightly.
Mrs. Evans slowly shook her head. “We only have one daughter,” Mr. Evans said sluggishly and pointed to the pictures on the wall, which showed the blonde girl at various ages.
“Could that be her?” James asked, not turning his gaze away from the dreamy Evans and his slowly circling wand. Sirius stepped closer to the pictures on the wall.
“Hardly,” he said over the loudly purring of the cat. “This one has a much more pointy face. The hair she could dye of course.”
“Let's still search the house,” James said. He flicked his wand and quickly put it away.
Mr. Evans blinked in confusion and his wife swayed shakily.
“Are you alright?” Sirius said with worry and gently put the cat down, before offering Mrs. Evans his arm.
“I – I don't know -” the small woman said, rubbing her temple. “All of a sudden I have gotten such a headache.”
“Maybe you haven't had enough to drink today yet,” Sirius suggested friendly and let her lean on his arm.
“You just told me you called us for an electrical issue in the house?” James asked Mr. Evans with a wide smile.
“I – I have?” the ginger man said, frowning in confusion.
“Yes,” James assured him. “Don't worry, we'll take care of it. Maybe you could get your wife a glass of water?”
“I – oh – sure,” Mr. Evans mumbled. Sirius complemented the still trembling Mrs. Evans to the arm of her confused husband and with friendly determination shoved them both in the direction of the open kitchen door.
“That was strange,” James mumbled when Sirius came back from the kitchen, the ginger cat still on his heels. “Are we at the wrong house?”
“How many Evans do you thing there are in this ugly little town?” Sirius asked back, frowning. “Could she have obliviated her own parents?” James wondered. They both fell silent for a moment. The Memory Charm was one of the hardest works of magic imaginable. The Obliviators of the Ministry had to be trained for several years before they were trusted to properly spell it. And now a mugge-born witch with no more that a Hogwarts degree was supposed to manage it?
“I'll search upstairs,” James said finally. “You look down here and keep the parents busy.”
Sirius nodded and wandered off to the living room, followed by the cat.
The first floor consisted of a small corridor with four doors. The first lead to a small bathroom, the second one to the married couples bedroom. In there too, multiple family photographs decorated the walls, always showing mother and father Evans with the blonde daughter with the pointy face. The third door lead to another bedroom, neat and tidy. The bed was covered with a frilly bedspread and a few muggle romance novels filled the otherwise empty shelves. Another picture of the blonde daughter was standing on the bedside table, this time as bride in a horrible white dress with shoulder pads, nestling to a broad-shouldered man with a impressive moustache. If Lily Evans wasn't going a very long way for her disguise, this surely wasn't her.
Tucked into the lower edge of the picture frame was a card. Miss Petunia Evans and Mister Vernon Dursley request the honour of your presence at their wedding! The ceremony will be held on the 12th of May 1985. Gifts and congratulation cards may be sent to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. James re-read the invitation card with interest, then put it in his pocket before leaving the room.
The last door was locked. With sudden interest, James drew his wand and mumbled, “Alohomora”.
The door swung open with a creak and revealed a disappointing view. The room was completely empty, just a few unopened buckets of paint standing underneath the window sill. James tried some revelation charms, but the beige carpet and the floral wallpaper remained stubbornly boring.
“Look what I found,” James told Sirius a moment later, when they met at the foot of the stairs again and showed him the invitation.
Sirius looked impressed. “So the remaining sisters name is Petunia?” he asked, reading the card critically. “Wasn't that -”
“The name Lily Evans first told me when we found them, yes,” James said.
“She must really think of her sister when she's stranded then,” Sirius mused.
“Exactly what I though,” James nodded. “Let's pay the newly married couple a visit tomorrow then, shall we?”
“Gladly,” Sirius grinned. “Anything else upstairs?”
“Nothing,” James shrugged. “One room is empty though.”
“I have always wanted to paint in there,” Mrs. Evans suddenly said, her eyes still foggy. She was leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“So why don't you?” Sirius asked her blantly.
Mrs. Evans opened her mouth to answer him, then closed again in confusion. “I don't know,” she finally whispered, frowning.
Sirius and James exchanged a meaningful look.
“It's because of the lilies,” the old lady said then. James raised his eyebrows. Gently now.
“The lilies?” he repeated softly, his hand wandering to the pocket of his boilersuit.
“Yes,” she answered, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Do you like lilies, Mrs. Evans?” Sirius asked, in an equally gentle voice as James had used.
“Oh, yes!” she answered, and a bright smile enlightened her face. “I love them. I have a full bed of Lilies back in the garden.”
James eyebrows shot up. “You do?”
“I thought you were electricians!” Mr. Evans called five minutes later to James and Sirius, who were in the process of digging up the lily patch.
“We also do gardening work!” Sirius yelled over his shoulder, bumping the spade into the earth.
“When we get hold of the Evans girl,” he added between gritted teeth, “Crouch will hopefully promote us for all this work.”
“Wouldn't bet on it, mate,” James answered and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. And then, there was a loud knock, when his spade hit something hard.
“Fucking finally,” Sirius said and helped James uncover the big, rectangular object.
“Is it a box?” he asked sceptically. James pushed away some loose soil from the surface and a grin spread over the face. Under the soil was a golden emblem, embossed into a leathery surface.
“It's a Hogwarts trunk,” James answered. Sirius laughed in relief.
“Fuck, I though we would lose our jobs,” he gasped as they lifted the trunk out of the ground and put it down next to the lily patch.
“Yeah,” James agreed.
“What is that?” Mrs. Evans asked from a few metres away.
James didn't answer, but kneeled down next to the trunk. It was bade of a pretty crimson leather and he could feel the conversation charm on its surface, keeping it intact even after months in the ground.
James took a deep breath, undid the golden clasps and opened the trunk.
It was filled to the brim. Schoolbooks, but also further reading like Conquering The Dark Arts or Organic Transfiguration. Under that, Hogwarts robes and a golden Headgirl patch. Also loads of letters, addressed to Lily Evans, Gryffindor Tower or Lily Evans, Cokeworth. Next to the letters, James found a big folder, carefully tied shut with Spellotape.
“Open it!” Sirius whispered eagerly over James shoulder and James did as he said.
The folder was filled with half a dozen editions of The Quibbler, all with colourful cartoons on their covers and one headline more ridiculous than the next.
“Lily Evans seems to be a loyal reader,” Sirius grinned. James nodded.
“What are you doing there?” Mrs. Evans called.
“Let's tidy up and make them forget we were here,” James sighed.
Sirius nodded. The orange cat was curling around his feet.
SIRIUS
This evening, Sirius called Remus when he was in his own room.
It had once been Fleamont and Eugenias bedroom, but James had offered it to Sirius gladly when he had moved in. “I don't want to stare at their empty room anyways,” he had said and helped Sirius move out Euphemias magical sewing machine and paint the walls a dark royal blue. Over the past two years, Sirius had exchanged almost all of the furniture, with the exception of a warm golden velvet couch and Fleamonts old gramophone with the beautifully curved, red lacquered speaker.
“Will we do this every night now?” Remus asked when he answered Sirius call.
Sirius grinned. “Do you want to?”
“I have no reservations to hang up on you when I feel like it, don't worry.”
“That answers that then.”
Sirius was sitting cross-legged on his bed, skimming through one of the Quibblers they had found in Lily Evans trunk. The rest of them James had taken to his own room.
“What are you doing right now?” Sirius asked casually, examining the cover of the Quibbler. He had chosen this one because it showed a werewolf, rolled into a ball like a sad puppy. The werewolf was sitting on a newspaper under an improvised roof consisting of a cardboard box and a stick, almost giving in under heavy drawn raindrops. The caption read Behold The Beasts In Our Streets!
“I won't tell you.”
“Oh come on,” Sirius protested. “Just phrase it neutrally. You don't have to tell me the exact address. Although if you don't mind -”
“Ha-ha,” Remus answered dryly. Sirius could practically see him roll his eyes. “Fine. I'll answer your question if you answer mine.”
“Deal,” Sirius agreed good-humouredly. “Do tell then. What are you doing right now?”
“I am lying on a couch that is way too short for me and having some tea,” Remus finally answered.
“Which sort?”
“Earl Grey.”
“You won't be able to sleep if you drink black tea that late,” Sirius said strictly. He should really get some other friends but James.
“Maybe I don't want to sleep,” the other's deep voice suggested.
“So what do you want to do then?”
There was a short pause and Sirius half-expected Remus to answer something dirty. But he was disappointed: “Listen to music.”
Sirius blinked in surprise. “Oh? What do you listen to?”
“Muggle music. You wouldn't know it.”
“Try me.”
“T.Rex? The singer is called -”
“Marc Bolan! Of course I know them! What song?”
Remus sounded utterly bewildered. “Um – Monolith, but -”
“Wicked!” Sirius expressed excitedly. “Can you put it on for me? Oh, no, the wand connection only allows our voices to transfer. Wait a minute -”
Sirius bounced off the bed and started to rummage through the shelf next to Fleamont Potters old gramophone. When he finally found what he was looking for, he hesitated.
“I have the record,” he informed Remus through the wand. “So we can sync. But I don't know at what minute you are?”
“I'm at We all do begin,” Remus answered. He sounded as if he was smiling.
Sirius tried to put the needle on the right spot and a moment later, flowing, warm music filled the room.
“I put it too far forward,” he said and stopped the gramophone again. “Can you just talk along to the lyrics so I can get in?”
“You want me to sing?” Remus asked in horror.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Just say the words, it's only for the right timing.”
A second passed, then Remus answered. “Alright.”
And then he said the words. He didn't actually sing, he just talked along and every word seemed to tangle in the raspy underwood that was Remus Lupins voice and Sirius knew that he had made a horrible, an unrevokable mistake.
“We all do begin
And dressed as you are girl
In your fashions of fate
Baby it's too late.“
And then he had the nerve, the audacity, to hum along with the guitar. Sirius stared at the slowly turning record, while the hair on his arms stood up and warmth filled his stomach, spreading into his limbs, climbing up his throat and reddening his cheeks.
“Shallow all the actions
Of the children of men
Fogged was their vision
Since the ages began.“
Stop that, Sirius desperately told his own mind, which was ignoring him happily and continued to produce suggestions what else he wanted Remus Lupin to say to him in this deep, hoarse voice.
This is what you get for trying to flirt your enemy into Azkaban, Sirius told himself, leaning back against the record shelf and closing his eyes. Should have stuck to file investigation.
“And lost like a lion
In the canyons of smoke
Girl it's no joke, oh no.“
Remus fell silent and the last tunes of the song fizzled out. Sirius felt like he had been stunned.
“A-alright,” he finally said sheepishly.
“Did you manage to sync up?” Remus asked innocently.
“Y-yeah, I guess,” Sirius answered.
“So, is it my turn now?”
“Your – turn?”
“You said you'd answer my question if I answer yours,” Remus explained patiently. “You asked me what I was doing and I told you. My turn now.”
“Oh,” Sirius said. It seemed like he had played himself today in more than one way. “Okay, then. Ask.”
Remus didn't waste a single second.
“Do you believe I should be in Azkaban for being an unregistered werewolf?”
“Do I believe -” Sirius stuttered. That was the last question on earth he wanted to answer. The Quibbler with the sad, homeless wolf was lying accusingly next to him.
“You said you'd answer my question,” Remus insisted.
Sirius sighed. “It doesn't matter what I believe. I have to arrest you or I'll lose my job. And be an disgrace to the family. My brother would avoid me. My mother would never talk to me again. Actually I should stop talking now, it's getting way to tempting.”
“I don't understand you,” Remus answered after a moment of silence. “In some ways, you are not like the other Ministry Wizards I have met. You speak to me like we are friends. You ask me about my transformations. You seem – curious. But at the same time, you are too afraid to draw the inevitable conclusions. That I am no monster. That Lily is no less of a witch because of her parents. That we deserve justice and that the Ministrys philoshophy is wrong and cruel.”
Sirius drew in a shaky breath. “What tells you I haven't drawn these conclusions?” he asked. His heart was pounding heavily.
There was a moment of silence.
“Then why are you still chasing us?” Remus asked. He sounded raspy and bitter and hurt.
Sirius stared at the ceiling. The warm feeling that had evolved from listening to Remus talk along to T.Rex had turned into something sharp and cold in his chest.
“Finite,” Sirius whispered and the tingling sensation ins his wand hand ended.
He couldn't move.
REMUS
Remus stared at the black wand in his hand that had just stopped to send the slight tingle into his palm, meaning that Sirius had ended the call. A wide grin spread over Remus' face. The last accords of Monolith echoed through the air.
“I win this round,” he informed the Dursleys empty living room.