The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 3

When they came back down to the hall, Moody's bowler hat was still there, but both Mundungus Fletcher and the house-elf were gone.

"That old villain," Moody grumbled. "Useful maybe, but as unreliable as a bunch of pixies hired to do your spring cleaning."

"Maybe he went looking for the dog," Lupin suggested. "He can't have gone far."

There was a loud noise somewhere beneath their feet, much like several boxes clattering to the ground, and the muffled sound of cursing. Moody scanned the stone floor of the hall with his magical eye.

"He's in the kitchen," he reported.

"Through here," Sirius pointed at the door at the far end of the hall, which stood ajar.

"Moody," asked Lupin as they made their way downstairs to the basement, "did you really ever hire a bunch of pixies to do your spring cleaning?"

"Of course not," Moody said indignantly. "Old Mrs Jones once did. They turned the place upside down and we were called in because she claimed her house had been attacked and searched by a troop of Death Eaters. It only turned out later that she'd made the story up because she was so embarrassed the pixie idea didn't work. Next time she called us, nobody was in a hurry to come and check. Too bad her story was true that time around. Here we are."

They had arrived in the kitchen of No. 12, Grimmauld Place. It was a low but very large room, taking up most of the basement. There was a sense of disuse and dilapidation about it, just like about the rooms upstairs, but a merrily crackling fire in the fireplace made it a lot less gloomy than the rest of the house. The crude brick walls glowed in an almost golden light.

Mundungus Fletcher emerged from a door on the right that led to a pantry. He was quite red in the face.

"You told me to keep an eye on the elf," he explained, "so I followed it down 'ere. It lives in the boiler cupboard, over there." He nodded at the door opposite the pantry. "Went in an' banged the door shut. I thought I'd have a look aroun', but I couldn' find anythin' useful. The butterbeer's all gone sour."

Moody gave him a disapproving look. "Listen," he said, "Dumbledore says you can go, so we'll be off in a minute. You two," he turned to Lupin and Sirius, "don't touch anything that looks or sounds dodgy. Don't try and - "

"We heard what Phineas Nigellus said, Alastor," Lupin reminded him.

"All right then. Keep an eye on the elf, and don't take anything he might offer you to eat or drink."

"Can I just put him on the wall next to his precious ancestors?" Sirius snarled. "'Cause that's where he belongs."

"Let's wait what Dumbledore's got to say to that," Lupin suggested. "He might be of some use yet. He could do all the cooking and cleaning for us, couldn't he?"

"Look around, Remus," said Sirius. "Does it look to you as if that excuse for a house-elf has even touched a broom or a cooking spoon in years?"

"Well, there are other ways of getting rid of him," Lupin replied patiently. "House-elves do change employers sometimes."

"Which means I'm supposed to walk up to the House Elf Relocation office in the Ministry tomorrow morning and say, look, I'm Sirius Black, and I don't want to share my hideout with my family's old house-elf, would you mind finding him a new employer he can insult instead?" Sirius's voice had grown very loud, echoing angrily around the bare kitchen.

"Look," said Lupin, suddenly looking very tired, "let's give the matter a rest until tomorrow. One day won't make a difference."

"All right then," Moody said again, putting his bowler hat back on his grizzled hair, hiding the magical eye. "I'll see you around. Good night. Although I wouldn't sleep at all if I were you. You never know. Every blanket, every bed sheet in this house could be a Lethifold."

"There are no Lethifolds in Britain, Moody," Lupin said with a yawn.

"So said old Obadiah Mimbleton, but they never found his body," Moody said gruffly. "Don't say you haven't been warned. Come on, Mundungus."

* * *

They listened to the receding footsteps crossing the hall overhead, Mundungus Fletcher almost inaudible, no doubt from long practise, and Moody with his characteristic wooden-legged clunk in every other step. A moment later, the front door fell shut.

Sirius practically collapsed into a chair next to the fireplace, put his elbow on the long kitchen table and his head in his hand. Silent and brooding, he stared into the fire.

"Have you ever heard of Obadiah Mimbleton?" Lupin asked, taking off his trench coat and putting it over the back of another chair. "Right," he continued when his friend didn't react. "Let's make ourselves comfortable then. I'll have a look around and see about some food, shall I?"

"Drink, more like," Sirius said without looking up. "And something stronger than butterbeer, if you please."

Lupin went into the pantry, and after rummaging around in it for a short while, he returned with a bottle filled with a liquid of a colour between gold and copper.

"Nothing fit for eating," he reported. "But I found this. Although it could be furniture polish for all we know. Not that any of the furniture in this house looks like it's been polished recently."

"I don't care what it is," Sirius said indifferently.

Lupin found two glasses on a dusty sideboard, uncorked the bottle, sniffed at the contents and gave an appreciative little nod. "It's a miracle Mundungus overlooked this." He filled a glass for Sirius and one for himself, sat down on his chair and kicked off his trainers. "What shall we drink to then?" he asked cheerfully. "To old times reborn?"

"To old times past and gone forever," Sirius said darkly, still staring into the fire.

Lupin put his glass down again without touching his drink, and opened his mouth to protest. But Sirius only shrugged, reached for his own glass and downed his drink in one go.

"Look," said Lupin in a very quiet and composed voice. "I do understand how hard it is for you to be back here after so long, and after all that's happened. But you knew that. You knew it wouldn't be easy. You offered the house to Dumbledore to be our Headquarters, after all. It was your wish. It was your own idea even."

"Yeah, it was. I meant to hand it over to Dumbledore to do with as he pleases. He can burn the whole place down for all I care. But I didn't mean to get stuck in here, here of all places, for the rest of my life."

"Don't be ridiculous. You won't be stuck in here for the rest of your life. Things have only just started. Just wait till the place has been set up properly, and then you'll - you'll -" Lupin broke off, not knowing what to say.

"Then I'll what?" snapped Sirius, meeting Lupin's eyes for the first time since the others had left. "You heard Phineas Nigellus. 'Under no circumstances is Sirius to leave the house'." He imitated the former headmaster's drawling tone. "Do you really think this has anything to do with the house?"

There was a short silence. It rang with Sirius's anger.

"Well, at least it will keep people from patting me on the head," he concluded dryly.

"Moody meant it nicely," said Lupin quickly.

"That doesn't help."

Lupin silently sipped at his drink. Sirius was staring into the fire again. The flickering light illuminated his brooding, once handsome face, deep shadows marking his hollow cheeks and furrowed brow.

"I've been going around in a circle, Remus," he said slowly. "I'm back where I started when I was fifteen, as if nothing had happened, nothing at all. Lost years, wasted years, stolen years." He reached across the table for the bottle and refilled his glass.

"That's not true," Lupin said firmly. "It's not true, and you know it."

"Yeah, there were some things that happened in between, now that you mention it," Sirius said sarcastically and raised his glass in a mock toast. "To James and Lily then, and how I wish they'd taken me with them just when I was the happiest I've ever been in my entire life."

Another glassful went down in one go. But Lupin set his own glass back on the table with a sharp clang.

"Don't say that," he said rather loudly, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

"Why not, if it's true?"

"Because that's not what they died for, Sirius. They believed in something. They believed in what they, what we were all doing. They gave their lives so we others could continue, so that we could finish the great task of our time. They didn't die because they wanted to spare themselves the trouble of living, Sirius."

Sirius looked up angrily. "You're saying I'm insulting their memory then, are you?"

"I'm not saying anything of that sort," Lupin replied firmly. "All I'm saying is that it's up to you whether all these years will be lost and wasted in the end. Think of what lies ahead of us, Sirius. Think of Harry. Harry needs you."

For a moment, Sirius's face brightened, and the light from the fireplace lit a spark in his dark eyes that had not been there before. Lupin saw it and smiled to himself while Sirius nodded slowly.

"Yeah, Harry," Sirius said quietly. "Harry. I hope he's a little happier where he is right now. He'd deserve it, you know." He fell silent, but the light in his eyes remained.