Chapter Text
Every weekday, Alfred passed by Number 11 and Number 13 on his brisk walk to work. He never did find anything unusual about this square in London - he never thought to ask. He was always in such a hurry. On one cloudy Tuesday of July is the first he saw something.... remarkable.
He would not have looked up from his watch if he hadn't heard it - a noise like a gunshot that made squirrels scurry up trees and birds fly from top of it. A man and a very large dog appeared out of thin air. The man was extremely shabby looking, wearing clothing that was made out of patches one could find from quilts. He was holding the front paw of the dog, who was so large, he could have been mistaken for a bear.
Alfred looked wildly around for a circus banner - maybe they were a travelling troupe? Placing two fingers over his wrist to check his pulse, convinced he might be having a stroke, Alfred turned back around in time to see the man let go of the dog's front paw and have a whispered conversation with it. The dog, it looked like, jerked his head towards Number 11 and 13. Alfred was mystified. Was there a child's birthday party here they had come for? He can't possibly be going to a party dressed like that, socks mismatched, pants too short and a coat that was better left in a theatre production of Oliver Twist and a dog that was best left to hunt in Scottish moors. The two of them looked like a very sad pair indeed, maybe they worked for a charity. After all, the man was carrying an ugly brown suitcase, shut tight with ropes. Maybe there was something in here?
Alfred nodded to himself, a breath of reassurement, yes the peculiar pair were just an ordinary-
His thoughts were interrupted as he hung about staring as the man walked towards the building, the dog turned to look at him too. The dog barked in a way he could have sworn it was amused, and he couldn't help jumping backward. The dog bared its teeth in what seemed like a grin. His eyes bugged as the dog gave him a quick wave with his front paw, before it disappeared between the buildings. The man was also nowhere to be found.
---
"Are you sure about this?" Remus asked him, as they stood in front of a house he had not seen, and swore he would never see again when he was 16.
"That would have been a relevant question - I don't know - two Apparition stops ago, Remus," Sirius snapped.
"I was too busy looking like a fool trying to side-along Apparate with a humongous dog to think of this, mate" Remus responded calmly. Sirius remembered the old gentleman staring at them and smirked to himself.
"Not one of our finer plans, " Sirius admitted as he opened the door with a few clicks of his wand.
The door creaked open into a dark hallway. They both stepped in, sending clouds of dust rising a few feet in the air. There was a silence hanging in the dark air of the house, followed by a curious whistling sound Remus associated with old war films he had watched with his mam when she was sick. Before he could get lost in a tangent of sad memories, Sirius yelled, "Get down!"
They both flattened themselves onto the floor of the dusty hallway, coughing and sneezing as a swarm of doxys flew over their heads and out of the open doorway.
Eyes watering, Remus looked up to see an old house elf shuffling into the hallway, eyeing them with intense dislike. Sirius swore at the sight of him and with eyes still locked onto each other, the elf scurried over to where a dark pair of heavy drapes hung. With one quick motion, the elf opened the curtains to a large painting of a sallow skinned woman, sleeping soundly before the elf announced, "Master Sirius, the ungrateful brat is here, looking unwashed as the filth he associates with, Kreacher apologises that the Mistress has had to see this in the house of her noble birth -"
The woman's eyes flew open, wide and searching. Sirius stared up at her, horrified.
Remus began, "What is going-"
His words were drowned by the shrillest sound he had ever heard. "You!!!!!"
"How dare you, filthy blood traitor bringing in your criminal associates! Filth! Stain of dishonour on the house of my fathers! I have never been more ashamed! Begone!"
The woman was shrieking over the elf's description of the royal lineage of Black, while Sirius was yelling, "Shut up you horrible hag! Shut up!"
"Dirt! Abomination-"
"Rich of you to call anyone that, look at the state of this house-"
Remus never thought that the strangest thing he would ever see in his very long life would be his best friend, his house elf and an old painting in, what he would politely call, “an argument.”
"Kreacher apologises that the Mistress has had to set her eyes on the lawless brat. It is indeed a shame that the brat has lost most of the fine bones of his aristocratic lineage while consorting with criminals such as himself -"
“I wouldn’t even be here if I had a choice, you spiteful old-”
“Master Sirius must not speak to Mistress that way!”
Just as Sirius yelled at the elf to shut up, Remus slashed his wand in the air to close the curtains on the portrait. The elf was now on the ground, banging his fists, on a silent tantrum.
"That was the most exciting two minutes of my adult life," Remus said, dryly as Sirius heaved deep breaths to calm himself down.
Sirius gave him an irritated look before turning towards Kreacher. “Listen here you little gremlin, we’ll be moving in, so-”
The house elf began to wail even louder, barely muffled by the carpet.
“- we’re also using this heap of dung as headquarters for the Order-”
Kreacher began to choke on his own sorrow, the carpet underneath him soaking in a wet puddle of tears. Grabbing his own ears, the elf tried to desperately shut out the announcement.
Remus shuffled on the spot looking down at Kreacher, Sirius’ words disappearing into the cries.
“Clearly you are yet to learn subtlety, Sirius," Remus said, picking up his suitcase and brushing dust mites off himself. "Kreacher, I’m sorry this is all happening so fast, but you can still stay in the house, we won’t kick you out.”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
Kreacher lifted his head, puffy eyes and runny nose warped into one of disgust. “How dare you utter my name-”
“Here we go.”
“You half-breed of tainted blood, deserving nothing less of death. Never speak my name or of the Black family’s, you infectious ill-breeding miscreant.”
Sirius’ eyes bore into Remus.
“Wonderful,” Remus sighed. “Should we unpack?”
“I look forward to it,” Sirius replied sarcastically, his footsteps splotching into the carpet, wet with Kreacher’s tears.
----
With the urgency of establishing the Order once more, there wasn’t much time to clean up before their first meeting. The two friends tackled the kitchen first. Remus tried his best to quieten down the mysterious scuttling and popping sound that kept coming from the kitchen stove, while Sirius worked his way around the room combusting any spiderwebs he could find with an over the top Incendio.
“Always the flair for the dramatic, isn’t it Sirius?” Remus said, placing an ear to the stove to listen. “Can’t you just use a feather duster?”
“Says the man trying to place intricate charms over a couple of rats.”
Remus stood up, holding onto the counter for support. “Rats don't make a popping sound, you twa-”
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the first Order members.
Sirius, with Remus close behind, walked down the dark passage to greet the first arrivals. Opening the door, a heavily scarred looking man, with a large protruding blue eye, stared back at them.
“Lads.” The man said in a heavy Irish accent.
Sirius scoffed, leaning against the door. “Now Mad-Eye, is that the greeting I get? You don't even visit me in Azkaban and now-”
“Come in Alastor,” Remus said, pushing Sirius out of the way to let the man through.
The man took a step inside, his magical eye swivelling to rest on Sirius with a glare. “I see the Dementors didn't get rid of your sarcasm Black,” He passed them to head to the kitchen, a heavy limp denting into the carpet. "Pity."
Sirius and Remus stared after the old Auror, his presence just as looming as they could remember.
“He’s looking well.” Sirius said with a bite of sarcasm.
“Positively beaming.”
“Must be the glow of being trapped in a trunk.”
Remus snorted.
—
When Molly and Arthur walked in for the Order meeting, Remus felt personally offended on behalf of the house at the face Molly was making. It was one of the nicer places he had moved into, thank you very much. Yes, there was a rattling wardrobe to be taken care of, and a clock that seemed to be shooting bolts that could prove fatal…
"Goodness me," she sniffled, her nose slowly turning red. "I am sure even criminal hideouts are maintained better."
“Not talking about my own home are you Molly?” Mundungus Fletcher walked in, his coat lumpy with hidden items. He grinned at Mrs Weasley before turning towards Remus.
“Been some time, ey Lupin?”
Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling too many eyes on him now.
“Dung,” Sirius said dryly. He made a solemn nod at the criminal. Molly was looking curiously at Mundungus’s coat. She brought her handbag to her chest, just in case. "Welcome to my family home, Molly, Arthur"
"The meeting is in the kitchen, and it's free of cobwebs," Remus said politely.
Molly sneezed inelegantly, and Sirius took a step back. Arthur fished out a handkerchief, and Remus decided that he may have judged her too harshly for her initial distaste. Allergies can be terrible - as the wolf once discovered in the Forbidden forest, chewing on an odd smelling herb after Prongs and Padfoot deprived him of a rabbit once again. He spent the next day in the hospital wing, covered in hives. To his immense guilt, Madam Pomfrey tried to get the Shrieking Shack cleaned right after.
Remus was so lost in his old memories that he didn't even notice when a young woman, with a pale heart shaped face walked in. If he had noticed her, he would have felt a flash of awareness, an attraction for this cheerful looking woman, beaming at the sight of Sirius. However, it was not until she knocked over a troll leg umbrella stand and tripped over it, causing the portraits to wake up, did he finally notice her. She gazed open mouthed at Mrs Black, shrieking into the hallway, "Freaks! mutants! Dirt! How dare you-"
Remus closed the curtains magically again, while Sirius helped the young woman up. "That was quite a welcome cousin," she teased lightly. "I knew I would be unpopular in this house, but I imagined it wouldn't have been shouted into my face."
"Don't take it personally, she hates all of us," Sirius grinned. "Remus, meet Dora."
She held out her hand, "You can call me Tonks."
Remus suddenly felt as if he should have cleaned the house a bit more, and himself.
“Nice to meet you Tonks,” He said, shaking her hand.
As she looked away, Remus quickly neatened the rug underneath them with his shoes, fixing the tassels as if it might offend her.
Satisfied, Remus looked up and caught Sirius’ one raised eyebrow directed at him.
“ What?” Remus mouthed out the silent question behind Tonks’ back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sirius mouthed back.
“Cleaning.”
“Stop-”
“Wonderful tapestry of our family, Sirius,” Tonks said, peering into one of the rooms. “Does it come in pink?”
Remus watched the young woman in a daze until she disappeared into the kitchen, pink hair still glowing spots in his eyes against the dark walls. Turning back once more, he regretted his sudden distraction as Sirius had led Mr and Mrs Weasley away from him to give an in depth tour.
“Arthur - do you like the decor?” Sirius asked without blinking an eye.
Arthur tugged at his shirt collar. “I... uh... yes, very much. Brilliant use of the colour black... on the wallpapers,” He looks around. “And the ceiling…”
"It's actually meant to be olive green," Remus said faintly. "I am sure once we get around to cleaning the entire house-"
But Sirius had already moved onto poor Mrs Weasley, who still clutched her husband’s handkerchief to her nose.
“Molly, let me introduce you to the lady of the house.” Steering her by the shoulder, Sirius ushered her towards a large curtain.
Mrs Weasley had one hand over her nose while the other was holding onto her handbag for her dear life. “The l-l-lady of the house? Sirius you can't mean....”
“Oh, yes, Molly,” Sirius gripped the curtain and smiled. “I do mean my mother.”
At that Remus all but ran towards them.
“I think she heard her the first time, Sirius,” Remus said firmly as he grabbed Molly’s other shoulder to steer her away. “We all did.”
Arthur, meanwhile, was staring at the house elf head plaques. Sirius, finding a new victim, stood beside the man and gazed up at the heads as if they were flower arrangements.
"That was Daisy," Sirius said, pointing at one of them. "Killed by a relative for not bringing her Turkish coffee. Best not to mention that in front of Kreacher."
"Who is Kreacher?"
"A little gremlin you will no doubt see around-"
Remus intervened, "He is the last surviving house elf of the house."
“Give it time.” Sirius said, his eyes in a far off place and a dangerous smile on his face.
“Is that all of them?” Arthur asked with a tone of hope as they reached the last of the house-elf heads.
“Oh no,” Sirius wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders. “There's more in the wine cellar - I just haven't had time to hang their heads yet.”
Lupin pinched his nose in irritation . “Sirius - enough.”
To his relief, other members of the new Order of Phoenix filed in. Hestia, who looked especially embarrassed to see Sirius (Remus chanced a glance at his old friend, he didn't seem to have noticed), Emmeline, Sturgis, Kingsley, Bill Weasley sporting what looked like a love bite on his neck (Remus saw Molly frown in disapproval), Caradoc, Dedalus Diggle (who had to be told to quiet down) and at long last, Albus Dumbledore followed by their school nemesis, Severus Snape.
"Smug prick," Sirius muttered under his breath, as Snape made an inspection of the house with his dark eyes, lip curling. Remus tried not to smile.
As they all settled in the kitchen, Dumbledore called for the first meeting of the Order of Phoenix to begin.
-
Remus began to untie the rope that kept his suitcase shut, he unclipped the latches and opened the lid to reveal the very little contents inside. He pulled out an extra pair of trousers, a jumper and some socks that had been patched up so often they looked mismatched. Underneath his clothes lay a single mug, one of the only personal possessions he had never had the heart to sell. He turned it over in his hands and traced the faded red dragon with his fingers, the writing ‘ Not only Welsh, but perfect too ’ was barely visible from the years of use since his parents had bought it for him. Remus turned towards an old wardrobe, and began to hang his clothes up feeling as if time had never really passed but feeling as faded as the mug all the same.
He moved downstairs with his mug in hand, moving through the strange quietness of the house. Once the Order members left, the silence rose and filled its musty rooms and long hallways like a dense fog.
Remus had lived in houses like those before - smaller houses, cramped houses where the walls closed in around him. He didn't feel it there as acutely as he did here, in this house, without his old friend by his side. He needed to find Sirius.
He crossed a darkly muttering Kreacher and swung open the door to the basement kitchen. Sirius was there, mashing potatoes. Clearly enjoying the labour of doing it like a Muggle, even as the gloom of the house draped itself around him. He was humming. Remus' chest grew tight as a vague memory of his mam floated in front of him.
And then, James. James was the loudest ghost between them, insistently drawing their attention to his absence in the first Order meeting. Here, too.
"What is taking him so long?" James would complain.
"Need help?" Remus spoke before the memory crushed him and joined Sirius, who gave a slight smile, "Nah. I just wanted to see if I still know my way around here, so that I can make something for Harry when he comes around."
Smiling, Remus held up his old mug. "Is there a space for my mug?"
"Oh right, do you want tea? You can keep the mug right above Kreacher's den."
"Kreacher's what?"
"Den. Lair. Hidey hole. Whatever you want to name it."
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need tea."
Sirius flicked his wand, and a kettle was put to boil. The ghost of James was pressing in the silence between them.
"Smug arseholes, the Ministry. That spineless sycophant thinks he can come after my son and get away with it -" James would rant after their Order meeting.
“What do you think Fudge will do if-” Remus began, until he noticed that a tape measure was taking measurements of his shoulder, his height…
He spluttered, "What are you doing?" just as the tape measure whacked him on the head. "Stay still," it shrieked.
"You can't possibly sleep in this," Sirius gestured to his robes.
"Why not?" He said, outraged as the tape measure began measuring his forehead.
"My mother wouldn't approve," Sirius smirked, as he poured out the tea for him in the mug.
“I seem to recall a vehement insistence on doing exactly the opposite of what your mother wishes..” Remus said, trying to bat the tape measure away from measuring his nostrils.
“But you are the good boy, aren’t you?” Sirius handed him his mug, filled to the brim with tea as he liked it.
Remus felt a flash of irritation at the word, but thought it was best to accept his tea gratefully. He had to hop away from the mug, however, as the tape measure found a particularly ticklish spot near his ankles. “Alright, alright, I will wear whatever you want me to!”
Sirius grinned, and flicked his wand. The tape curled near the stove like a docile animal. Remus grabbed his tea in relief.
"Also, can you stop scaring people with elf heads?"
"Did it scare Snape?"
"Don't think so."
"Git."
"You could adjust the troll leg and see if he trips over it."
Sirius grinned. "Perhaps not so good after all."
-
They were awoken the next day by shrieking of the portrait. They ran down multiple flights of stairs only to find Tonks sprawled on the floor, looking embarrassed and Kreacher averting his eyes from her, few paces behind, muttering about blood traitors with aquiline noses befitting of noble birth waking him up at odd hours while the eyes of his ancestors were upon them. Remus felt the uncomfortable stare of the shrunken head of elves near him.
Tonks disentangled herself from the troll leg, "I am sorry, I didn't want to wake anyone - I’ve just come back from my shift-"
"Scum of the earth! Blood traitor! Mutant-"
Sirius sighed, "We should check when Snape is coming in and when she is before we pull the troll leg around."
"- and is there something in the house for breakfast?" Tonks asked hopefully.
In his hurry to both shut the screaming portrait and get Tonks something to eat, Remus stepped over his borrowed overlong robes (Orion Black was a tall man, and Sirius insisted that the velvet robes will help him sleep well) and toppled downstairs. While Tonks rushed to help him up, Sirius' bark-like laugh rang over his mother's screams. The house was no longer quiet and, smiling to himself despite the bruise forming on his backside, Remus suspected it might never be again.