What Killed The Cat?

What killed the cat

Part 2

Remus let out a frustrated sigh, quill in hand and hand resting on the wooden desk. He had been thinking on paper, ideas neatly jotted down and then scrutinised and repaired, trying to make them foolproof in every possible way. But each thread came to an abrupt end. He knew he would find a way, years of transforming Sirius unmasked enthusiasm into a plan that would actually work during the Marauder's ‘reign of havoc’ had proved brilliant practise, but nothing happened fast enough. 13 years, thirteen years, damnit.

It was Friday today. He was definitely NOT going to the local pub as he did almost religiously. He did not need a calendar to know it was to be the night of the full moon. Tonight he would go into the cellar, checking the wards and charms that were to contain him meticulously before locking the door. And then there would be pain; coursing through him as the wolf who’s blood polluted his own came alive. And then he would be stripped of rational thought, animal. It had come to mean such a dirty thing to him; the word barely escaped his mouth when he wanted to say it.

At some point in the night he had surrounded himself with books, looking things up in his futile attempts to construct a plan with which to clear Sirius’ name. Now they loomed in stacks – blocking the sunlight. From somewhere beyond the towers came a voice.

"Oi, Remus! Are you utterly devoid of manners or what? Unless me memory fails me, its the host who makes breakfast, not the guest." Remus thought the comment had more to do with Sirius’ culinary skills - or lack thereof - then it did with etiquette.

And so they sat there, after eating a very large breakfast. Sirius wondering how Harry was and Remus perplexed by Sirius’ ability to eat almost 3-times as much as he could.

"Full moon tonight," commented Sirius absently. Remus merely nodded, suppressing the ‘I know.’

"I expect you’ll be transforming in that sturdy cellar of yours." ‘How did he know about that?’ Remus ‘mmhmmed’ ‘And why hasn’t he noticed that bit of bacon dangling between his teeth? It’s the size of a bloody blue whale.’

"And of course I’ll be there as Padfoot." Remus had been busy locating the toothpicks for Sirius when he heard the comment

"What?"

"You know? Padfoot? Black dog, about this high."

"Yes, I know that." He sounded exasperated. The bacon moved while Sirius talked, it was irritating.

"My being there has never bothered you before…"

"No." Remus tried to sound forceful but was growing hoarse. ‘Where are those God damned toothpicks?’

"You can’t expect me to just sit here while I know you’re down there…"

Remus searched frantically for a change in subject. ‘Aha!’

"So, how are Arabella and Mundungus?" Sirius paled visibly. Third drawer from the cooker, stored next to the aluminum foil and plastic cutlery the toothpicks lay – relieved at Remus’ distraction.

"Fine." Remus thought the word spoke volumes. They were fine but Sirius obviously was not. And then he remembered, Mundungus’ inexplicable fascination with Dementors. Dementors, Azkaban, 13 years, thirteen years, damnit. ‘Quick, diffuse the situation’

"I might hurt you." Sirius seemed relieved at the change of subject, although there was a definite gleam of obstinance in his eye.

"No you wouldn’t, I’d make sure of it." And Remus was compelled to say yes, because he felt he owed it to Sirius after making the Dementor slip.

"Well, as long as you’re on top of things I’m sure nothing will go wrong." ‘Even through the sarcasm he can tell you’re saying yes. Situation: Diffused. Now, about that toothpick.’

In the end Remus was not left wondering about what had happened at Mundungus’ house, Sirius told him.

"He says they might have found out where they originated from," Sirius said thickly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"And?" Remus asked.

"Well, they think they know the magics that were involved in making the Dementors."

"Making?"

Sirius shrugged, "That’s what I thought, then I realised, why not?"

"Why is it so important?"

"Well, it might result in them finding a way to reverse the effects of the Kiss." Remus froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "But if the Death Ea-"

"I know. But Mundungus is running a tight operation. Personally I can’t see why anyone would want those souls back."

"Crouch." Remus was staring off into space blankly.

"You what?"

"Crouch, Barty Crouch. If we get him back we can prove Wormtail’s still alive and thus your innocence."

There was a silence as Sirius thought through this.

"Its all completely hypothetical of course." The hope in Sirius’ voice was slight but present. Remus almost smiled at it, ‘welcome back Sirius’.

* * * * *

Mundungus Fletcher was adding a few sheets of parchment to the precariously balanced stacks on his desk when he heard a light knocking on his door. "Come in!" he bellowed while scribbling something down. Remus walked in slowly, trying not to disturb the various odds and ends that littered the floor.

"Ah, Remus! It's good to see you again."

"Hello Mundungus," he replied. Mundungus was a short man with broad shoulders, a large bushy moustache and grey hair. He started rummaging around until he pulled out a piece of parchment.

"I wasn't expecting you till Monday," he said, brandishing the letter Remus had written.

"It is Monday." Mundungus furrowed his brow and counted under his breath.

"Yes! You're right. Please, take a seat." Remus complied. "So, you need my help getting him in the clear."

"Yes."

"What a mess, what a mess indeed." Remus thought it a little rich with Mundungus' office in its present state but remained silent. Mundungus had again closed the gap between his eyebrows. "Well, you of course realise that strictly speaking I can't help you as this is all confidential ministry business." As he said it he slid a piece of parchment towards Remus. Remus picked it up and skimmed over it.

"Ah well," he said in mock disappointment, "Worth a try at the very least. Thank you for you time." He bid Mundungus goodbye and stepped out of the office. Outside the secretary of 'Mr. Mud' (as he was often referred to, much to his dismay) was sitting, curiosity written all over her pointy face. At once he knew the small performance inside the office had been entirely for her benefit. He left with a slight smile playing on his lips.

* * * * *

The sheet was a carefully compiled list of references. Name, dates and other such things were recorded with a brief description of their significance all in neat blue ink. Remus was arched over it, his hand moved to the back of his neck to try and ease the pain that had settled there after a few nights past's transformation. Padfoot's presence had been a relief of sorts and Remus silently thanked him for it. Right now he was unsure of what to do. As with many fields of magic, a lot was unknown about the inner workings ad the process of the Dementors' Kiss was no exception. In fact the new information, so highly prized, was actually just a mention about their existence in an ancient account in a tomb from a time when people thought the Dementors had not emerged. He read the tomb inscription again,

'It was about the time when Nephtys, mother of Anubis, fell in love with Osiris. The Dark Army travelled South along the River Nile towards Thebes and anyone who did not flee was left soulless'

Remus' knowledge of Ancient Egyptian magic was far from accurate, and the inscription recorded was just a small part of what was in the tomb. After much deliberating he decided he needed to go to the desert region himself. Sirius could take after himself; he was after all a grown man. Sirius chose that exact moment to enter, his hand was stuck inside a jar and he was straining to get it off. 'Impeccable timing'

"What happened?" Remus was not sure he wanted to know.

"I was trying to get a biscuit but my hand got stuck inside and I can't get the damn thing off"

Remus got up and strode to Sirius' side.

"It's got an Unbreakable Charm on it - here I'll counter it." Remus drew his wand and muttered something at the jar. As soon as he'd said it Sirius hit it against the wall, a shower of glass and crumbs followed.

"All that for some ruddy digestive! Where do you keep the proper stuff?"

"You're cleaning that up, you know." Sirius drew out his wand as well and repaired the jar before sweeping up the mess.

"There, good as new," he said, holding up the jar for Remus's inspection. Remus chose not to comment, instead smiling a little. Perhaps "grown man" wasn't the best term to describe Sirius.