Leaving Green Sleeves

The lift was broken, so Tyke had to take the stairs up to the sixth floor. Huffing and puffing for air, he pushed the doorbell outside Sykes Ogden's door. After a minute the squib opened it.

"Tyke! Now, that was a surprise - come in, I'll get you a drink." Sykes turned and Tyke followed him inside the enormous flat. Tyke had always suspected that some of Sykes' wizarding kin had been waving their wands about in this flat; it seemed twice as big as one would expect, seeing it from the outside. The hall alone was bigger than Tyke's own living room, and the cream-coloured walls were decorated with tasteful pieces of art, all of them originals. In the lounge, he was surprised to find Trip York, sitting on the large Italian leather sofa, staring into the glass in his hand.

Trip glanced up, then returned to his drink with a sigh. "Hello," he said in a weak voice.

"'Lo, Trip," Tyke replied and sat down in the other end of the sofa. "How's life? Are you and Matilda speaking again, or...?"

Trip got a pining expression on his face and didn't reply. Tyke felt slightly uncomfortable; he never knew what to say in situations like this. Some people always had a soothing word or an icebreaking joke on the tip of their tongues, but Tyke had never been one of them.

Then Sykes came over and put a glass of Firewhisky in front of him. "So, what are you doing in the City?" Sykes asked with a wry grin as he flopped down in the matching armchair. "Pug being an arse again?"

"Am I really that predictable?"

"Everyone's predictable. That's what I've been trying to tell Trip here." The wizard frowned angrily at Sykes, but he just continued. "Even if she should take you back in, it'll only happen again later. Drop her, I say; find yourself a nice girl who appreciates you for the man you are."

"It's not that easy, I've told you!" Trip barked back. "Who're you to speak, anyway? When did you have a relationship that lasted more than six months?"

"Meep! Why can't we all just be friends?" Tyke said in a whiny voice, making a face he knew would make Sykes laugh. Trip only sighed heavily and looked out the window at Barbican Lake. Tyke suddenly found the man's sentimentality annoying.

"And yeah, Pug was being a berk, so I left. Could I camp here for the night?"

"This is a shelter for people in a tight spot, apparently, so of course. You'll take the sofa, since Trip has the other bedroom."

"All right." Tyke couldn't keep the secret any longer, and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned over the table, casually picking at yesterday's paper with his long fingers. "Guess who came with me in the car?"

"Who?" Sykes asked, politely but without interest, as he stretched out his foot and nudged Trip York's knee. Trip took his eyes off the window to look at him, and gave him a little smile.

"Remus Lupin."

Both Sykes and Trip turned to look at him with big eyes. "Remus Lupin?" Trip echoed.

"Yep. Came to my house and wanted to speak with Pug." Tyke nodded and took a sip of the Firewhisky while he let the information sink in.

"With Pug! Is he out of his mind?" Sykes leaned back in his armchair.

"They didn't kill each other? Wow, I think I can see a flying pig outside the window." Trip seemed to be temporarily knocked out of his stupor and glanced out the window with a mocking look.

"No, they're both alive and kicking. Now, the interesting thing is..." Tyke hesitated for a few seconds to get the full attention of the two men. Sykes watched him with a little smile and Trip watched him intently, holding the glass halfway up to his mouth. "The interesting thing is that he came to see Dung, and he is missing."

"Dung Fletcher?" Sykes asked with raised eyebrows.

"Of course Dung Fletcher - how many Dungs are there?" Trip replied as he lowered the glass. "I didn't think they knew each other."

"They do," Sykes said and nodded firmly. "I remember seeing them together. He was a friend of that fellow Black - you know, the one who blew up all those Muggles. I just fail to see what's so interesting about it."

"But that's just it!" Tyke tried to explain. "He hasn't seen Dung in ages, and now, all of a sudden, Lupin is desperate to find him - desperate enough to seek out Pug for information. I can't help being curious. What are they up to, and where has Dung gone?"

Sykes shrugged. "Dung goes missing all the time. He'll show up. He probably owes Lupin money."

"Oh yeah? And when have you seen Lupin with money, eh? He's not that thick." Tyke couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed with them; he was onto something here, and he knew it.

Trip yawned and stood up from the sofa. "Well, I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, think I'll do the same." Sykes patted Tyke on the shoulder as he passed him. "I'm sure he'll show up. Now, get a few hours of sleep. Looks like you need it."

He had a point, Tyke felt pretty worn out. He was probably right about the rest, too - he was just letting his imagination run away with him. It had happened before, and never resulted in anything good. Pushing the ideas away to the back of his head, he accepted the duvet and the pillows Sykes offered him and made his bed on the sofa.

*

The following day, Tyke opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron at exactly four o'clock. The pub was more or less empty - still another hour to go before the rush came - but Lupin sat in a corner, reading the free copy of the Daily Prophet that Tom offered the guests. With a groan, Tyke lowered his body into the chair opposite of him.

"Rough day?" Lupin asked without taking his eyes off the paper.

"Yeah. Spent the night on an overly soft sofa, and when I got to work the basement was filled with water. I've been standing, sitting and lying in freezing cold water all day, and in the end we had to get the Fire Department to come and help us out. I'm knackered, and my back is killing me." He sighed. "Could you go and buy me one of those potions? What's it called...Back B'Good?"

"All right." Lupin took the Galleon Tyke offered him.

Lupin was gone five minutes before coming back with a small vial in the pocket of his cloak. Tyke swallowed every drop and finished with a sip of his coffee. "Doesn't work as well on me as it does on you, but it's better than pills anyway," Tyke muttered and made a grimace from the taste. "Just don't tell me what's in it, or I'll throw it all up again..."

There was a malicious spark in Lupin's eye and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again with a wry smile. "Feeling better? Maybe we should be off."

They left the car where it was parked, and walked up toward Soho. After entering Gerrard Street, they walked into a narrow alley. They passed a young homeless man, sleeping in a doorway, and Tyke watched as Lupin slowed his steps. "Come on now," he said calmly, "it's further than you think."

Soon, the alleyway split into two separate alleys, each narrower than the first one, and Tyke turned left. Another twenty yards and the alley once more split in two, but Tyke knew where he was going and didn't slow down. This happened over and over, and after a while, Lupin's steps became insecure. Tyke could understand it; he could feel a certain...tingling against his skin, like electricity in the air, and a murmuring headache in the back of his head.

"It's just the charms, Lupin," he exclaimed. "Nothing to worry about, they're not very strong. It hits you harder than me, because you're a wizard - the sort that Harris tries to protect himself from."

"I knew it was charms," Lupin replied, rubbing his eyes. "God, my head is killing me."

Finally, they stood outside a door. A tattered old door of the sort you never really see - grey like the wall around it, discreetly placed in the corner where the alley made a turn. They had passed half a dozen of them, but Tyke stood fast, knocking on it with a firm hand. Four knocks.

They stood for what seemed like ages, just looking at the door, trying to prepare themselves for Merlin knew what...when an elderly Chinese man opened the door. "May I help you?" he asked, his round face smiling widely. "Ah, a Pommeroy. Have you come on behalf of your mother?"

"No," Tyke smiled and shook his head. "I'm here only on behalf of myself this time. May I speak with Mr Harris?"

"That might be arranged," the smiling man answered and shut the door in their faces.

Again, they waited - and waited. Tyke briefly wondered if they were being watched, perhaps to see how long they'd be willing to stand there before leaving with unfinished business. The sounds from Muggle London were gone completely, and Tyke could hear the soft breaths of the werewolf behind him. There came a scraping sound as Lupin moved to lean on his other foot. The sun shone down on them from a clear blue sky; Tyke could almost see how his shadow gradually moved as the earth turned.

Just when he was about to knock again, the door opened. Another man this time - this one was younger, and not even the faintest trace of a smile could be seen on his stern face. "Mr Harris will see you now."

The hall inside was large, and dimly lit. The dark red walls stretched out into long corridors, one to the left and one to the right. They hung their coats in the hall, and then followed the humourless man into the left corridor. They stopped outside a door, and the man knocked before opening. "Terrence Pommeroy and Remus Lupin to see you, sir."

Lupin hadn't introduced himself; they had clearly been watched.

They were showed inside, and the first thing they saw were three large dogs of mastiff type, sitting on the thick, red carpet. One of them made a growling sound deep in its throat. "Be quiet, Xerxes. These people are our guests," a voice said from the desk. There he sat - Warty himself - in a chair that seemed too big for his small body. His black hair and the slightly slanting eyes revealed his Chinese heritage.

He sent them an arrogant little smile as the largest dog, a grey beast of a male, walked over and laid its head on his lap. Warty seemed to struggle to get his arm free. "I hope your mother is well, Mr Pommeroy?" With an undignified jerk he got his arm free from the heavy load of the hairy brute, and he watched them with sharp eyes as though expecting them to start laughing.

Warty had never been able to laugh at himself - but both Tyke and Lupin stared back, stern and serious as undertakers.

"She's very well, Mr Harris. Thank you for asking," Tyke replied. "Also, thank you for taking the time to see us."

"Yeah, well," Warty waved his hands at them with a bored expression, all while trying to get the dog to take its head off of his lap. "What did you come for?"

"We were wondering if you'd seen Mundungus Fletcher recently."

Frowning, Warty temporarily gave up the battle with the dog. Discreetly, he picked out a handkerchief and tried to wipe away the dog's drool with it, to prevent his expensive white robes from getting stained. "Dung? Did a runner, did he? Owed you money, I suppose." Warty tried again to get the dog off, and started to get a slightly desperate look on his face. The brute simply made a groaning sound and placed a ham-sized paw over his thighs.

Just then a young black witch entered the room. "Eddie, have you seen the Time Turner that I got from...oh." She shyly lowered her eyes to the floor when she saw Tyke and Lupin. "I didn't know you had guests, darling. I'll go back to the living room and leave you three in peace." She smiled at them and turned to leave.

"Get...Lee!" Warty moaned from underneath the mastiff that now threatened to climb into the chair.

"Oh, dear!" she replied and ran out of the room.

"Such an affectionate dog!" Lupin said in an admiring voice - Tyke couldn't tell if it was meant as a joke or in earnest, though his bet would be on the former.

"Get...OUT!" Warty hissed in rage as the mastiff started licking his face.

"All right - if you say so."

In the doorway, they met the man who had led them inside, this time rushing into Warty's office and closing the door behind him with a thud. Suddenly, Tyke and Lupin stood alone in the endless corridor, staring at each other and scratching their heads. "I suppose we have to see ourselves out," Lupin muttered. As they started walking, a loud yelp was heard, and Lupin flinched from the sound.

While searching for the right door, Lupin said: "I don't think Warty knows anything. If he does, he's a brilliant actor. Maybe this is the door..." He opened one of the oak doors on his right, but quickly turned his head away and closed it carefully with a vacant expression on his face. "Definitely not."

"What? What did you see?" Tyke asked and neared the door, curious as ever.

"You're too young," Lupin replied dryly and pushed the protesting Tyke further down the corridor.

Five minutes later they were walking down the alley again. "I agree with you," Tyke said. "If Warty had known anything I would've seen it on his face. He's not the best liar, especially not if he's the one with the advantage. He likes to gloat, you see, to remind you that he's the one in charge - I can't explain it, it's just there. You would've understood if you'd seen it."

"I'll take your word for it," Lupin replied, rubbing his temples. "But this means we still don't know where Dung is...and that worries me."

"Why?" Tyke peered at Lupin from the corner of his eye, but the werewolf just shrugged.

"It's personal," he answered, and his firm voice told Tyke not to ask any more questions. "But thanks for letting me come along - it seems I'll have to look elsewhere." He let out a long sigh. "You wouldn't know if he has any other enemies?"

"Well, that depends on what you mean by enemies. If you mean people who would be thrilled to see him getting a black eye, I would say a couple of dozen, probably more. If you mean people who would like to see him dead...then I don't know. Except..."

"Except who?" Lupin looked at him with interest.

"Well, when I woke up yesterday, there was a foeglass on the kitchen table - Dung's, according to Pug. Warty was in it, but also another face I haven't seen before. Pug didn't recognise him either."

Lupin scratched his chin. "Would it be possible for me to see this foeglass?"

"Can't see why not. It's still at my place, though. If I brought it with me to work tomorrow, I could meet you in the Cauldron, four o'clock."

After making the deal with Lupin, Tyke walked back to his car. It was getting dark, and the potion was wearing off - he started to notice his aching back again. It was with a grimace of pain he sat down in the driver's seat of the old Sierra and found a pack of painkillers in the bag on the floor. He was so tired he could weep, and it was only the thought of his own bed that made him turn the key.

As he drove out of London, he started thinking about the row he'd had with Pug the evening before. He'd told his brother to get lost, and it was with a feeling of guilt that he remembered having threatened to call Mum. That had been below the belt, he could see that now.

The thought of coming home to an empty house suddenly became depressing - dark windows staring back at him, the fireplace cold. He remembered the times when he'd come home to find freshly made hamburgers stacked up in a pile on the kitchen table, and Pug sitting listening to the radio, waiting for him. The evenings when they used to sit in front of the television set, commenting on the news and braindead American films, laughing their heads off.

Stupid, silly, sad old Pug! With the gruff demeanour and the social skills of a malevolent bull on a bad day, he rarely inspired anyone to give him a second chance. But when the other children had bullied Tyke on his way home from school, Pug had been there, taking care of both the bullies and their older brothers. Later, he would follow Tyke home, only to stop one street away, saying, "This is our little secret, all right? Don't tell Mum," and then leave to God knows where.

He'd always been there, and this was how Tyke paid him back?

Tyke drove so fast it would've cost him his driving license if he'd been caught. Luckily for him, no police cars were roaming the roads of Kent this evening, and soon he drove up the road to the lonely stone building. The windows were dark, as he'd feared, and the new moon reflected itself in the glass. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Tyke got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Slowly, he walked up and sat down on the stairs.

"Oh man," he muttered with a sigh, and leaned his elbows on his knees. Hair fell into his eyes as he hid his face in his hands. He didn't want to go inside - for a moment he contemplated going back to the car and sleeping there, then dismissed the thought as childish and silly. For a long time he sat there with his eyes closed, listening to the grasshoppers in the field.

"Hey!" a husky, familiar voice called out. "You'll catch a cold out there!"

Tyke looked up, and was surprised to see Pug's face in the open kitchen window. Quickly, he got to his feet and went inside. Pug was sitting by the table; his suitcase stood on the floor, ready to go.

"You're still here."

"Yeah, missed the bus." Pug waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the road, and didn't meet Tyke's eyes. "Maybe you could drive me down to the station..."

Tyke leaned against the kitchen unit and, crossing his arms, gave his brother a sincere look. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed for a while - you know, just until you find a place of your own."

Pug looked at him, confused, but then a little smile broke out on his face. "All right. I'll put this back, then. For now." With an air of relief, he stood up and picked up the suitcase.

"You and me, Pug." Tyke couldn't hold the words back, and bit his lip just after they were out. Pug stopped in front of him, looking surprised, but then let out a little snort. There was no malice in it though, and he raised a big hand to ruffle his brother's dark hair.

"You and me, Tyke," he muttered and went into his room to unpack.