Fic: Silent Night for lupinlicious
Title: Silent Night
Author: lazy_neutrino
Written for: lupinlicious
Rating: PG
Prompt: 2. Artistic boys (well, sort of)
Summary: Horrible wailings in the night lead Sirius on a strange quest for the truth.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks to leni_jess and lyras for their thorough beta work. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Silent Night
The ghost was back again.
Sirius opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. Snores rose erratically from one of the other beds. James, he decided, listening to their cadence. Remus never snored. Peter's snores were soft, like a child's, and James had been sporting a rather fine cold of late. Yes, definitely James, he decided as the snores erupted into a bout of coughing. The snorer grumbled in his sleep and turned over, never quite waking up.
Coming to a decision, Sirius thrust the velvet drapes aside. Light whispered under the dormitory door and stretched long fingers into the darkened room. On every window thick curtains were drawn fast to keep the Scottish winter at bay, but the wind tapped enticingly on leaded panes and murmured to him from the gutters. All around, the castle slept.
And now the ghost began again. It scattered its sobs across the air, a wailing that tore at Sirius' heartstrings and irritated him beyond measure at the same time. It was as if a thousand dervishes were drawing long fingernails down blackboards, all at once, and out of time; it was a noise no sane person could stand, and yet -
And yet something about it was beautiful.
Sirius leaned down and grabbed his dressing gown from the floor. Shrugging it on, he pushed the blankets back and padded lightly across the wooden floor towards the door. Tonight he was going to solve this puzzle once and for all, and he would visit the bathroom at the same time.
--
In the bathroom the ghost was even worse. Sound filled the chamber, echoing across the high tiled walls and vaulted ceiling, and flowing through the metal pipes. Sirius jammed his fingers in his ears and then discovered he couldn’t wash his hands.
Damn ghost. Some things were sacrosanct, and a man’s right to pee undisturbed in the middle of the night was one of them. With the light of battle in his eyes, Sirius whipped out his wand. 'Audi', he whispered. The wand quivered, and then jerked upwards. Upstairs.
And so began a merry dance. Twisting and turning like a dowser’s rod, the wand took him along empty corridors and up and down staircases, broad and narrow, straight and spiral, until Sirius had no idea where he was. He came at last to a statue of a troll in full Highland dress. The statue turned its back on him and raised its kilt. In true Scots fashion, it wore no underthings.
I could have lived a lot longer without seeing that. Sirius stared at the dimples on the troll’s rear end, lovingly fashioned by an unknown craftsman many years ago. Aloud he said, 'What a cheek.' The statue dropped its kilt at once and blew a raspberry. Behind it, a panel in the stone wall slid away, revealing a narrow and dusty passage. The mysterious wailing stopped abruptly.
Bugger. 'Lumos.' Light from his wand fell on footprints on the dusty floor. Did ghosts leave footprints? Sirius realised he didn’t know. He shrugged and stepped into the passageway, and the section of wall slid back behind him.
After twenty or so yards he came to a flight of wooden steps leading upwards. He climbed them carefully, peering into the darkness ahead. A small landing ended at a warped wooden door. Sirius gave the door a gentle push and it swung inwards.
It looked at first glance like a lumber room. Piles of chests and trunks were everywhere, stacked at crazy angles. Mismatched scatter cushions lay on the floor. And standing in the very centre of the room -
‘Moony. What the hell are you doing?’
It looked as if someone had taken a very misshapen bag, covered it in tartan and then stuck pipes into it so that they protruded in every direction. Remus seemed to be cradling the thing under one arm and blowing into one of the pipes. A hideous wailing emerged.
Sirius said again, 'Moony.' Still Remus seemed unaware of his presence. 'Silencio.’
That did it. Remus' eyes opened. He let the pipe fall from his lips and stared at Sirius in horror. His mouth opened and closed but no sounds came out.
'Finite Incantatem,' Sirius muttered. 'Moony, what in the name of the four founders are you doing?'
Remus gestured feebly towards the tartan bag. 'Bagpipes,' he mumbled.
'I’m sorry, what?'
'Bagpipes.' This time Remus spoke more clearly.
'Bagpipes.' Sirius approached the thing and gave it a cautious poke. 'They're not alive, then?'
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Remus gave him a stare normally reserved for the stupider first-years and then burst out laughing. 'No, Pads, it's not alive. Look.' He stuck the pipe into his mouth again and blew hard, squeezing the tartan sack at the same time. A bloodcurdling squeal filled the room. Sirius winced and clapped hands over his ears.
'Sorry.' Remus put the bagpipes down. 'I'm not very good yet.'
'You’re telling me.' Sirius spoke with feeling. 'All right. I get that they're bagpipes. It’s a bagpipes? Whichever. And you're trying to get it to make music?' Remus nodded. 'Though I must say,' Sirius continued quickly, before Remus could demonstrate again, 'I think you're onto a loser there, Moony. I thought it was ghosts. What I don't get is why.'
Something flickered in Remus' eyes and was gone. He put the bagpipes down.
'Moony. You can tell me.'
Remus shrugged. 'It'll sound stupid.'
'You usually do.'
It was the right thing to say. Remus grinned and he kicked a cushion over toward Sirius. 'Sit.' He flopped down onto one himself. A cloud of dust rose into the air and he burst out coughing.
'See? Evanesco.' Sirius collapsed gracefully onto his cushion.
'Now. Give.'
'OWLs,' Remus said simply.
Sirius frowned. 'Did you eat one? I thought Prongs caught up with you -'
'Not owls. OWLs. Ordinary Wizarding Levels.'
'It's the last night of term and you're worrying about exams? Moony, you'll be brilliant.'
Remus shook his head. His foot twitched as he searched for words. 'Not the exams. Well, the exams, a bit, but what happens after.'
Sirius scratched his head. 'NEWTs.'
'And then? I don't know if it’s occurred to you, Pads, but there aren't an awful lot of jobs for werewolves right now.'
'Oh. That.'
'Yes,' Remus echoed lightly. 'That.'
There was a pause.
'I think you're right,' Sirius said, when the tension had become unbearable. 'You have got a problem. I'm not even sure you're going to get to do NEWTs, because honestly, Moony, you're the stupidest werewolf I know. You might even be the stupidest person I know, and yes, that does include Montmorency Smith in Hufflepuff and my Great-Great-Great Aunt Zelda on my mother's side who was attacked and eaten by a Lethifold disguised as a snowman.'
'How could a Lethifold -'
'No idea. Don't interrupt. Anyway,' Sirius continued, warming to his subject, 'you don't get to abandon us just like that, Moony, when Hogwarts is over. What did you think we were going to do - fade into the background and disappear?’
'I thought -'
Sirius wagged an angry finger. 'No, you didn't. OK, Prongs will probably marry Evans, even if she doesn't know it yet. They'll get nice cosy jobs as Aurors or something. Wormtail was clutching armfuls of leaflets about the Ministry when he had his careers interview. Can't say I fancy that. I did think about Magical Law Enforcement but they're not too keen on Blacks right now, apparently.' He grinned. 'I thought we could just find somewhere to live and make ourselves useful. How about it?'
'When you say we -' Remus' eyes were wide.
Sirius stretched his legs out and stared at his feet. 'I didn't say this before.' He waited. Remus gave a tiny nod. 'I'm not going home for Christmas, Moony. I can't.' He bit his lips, wondering how to go on, then said slowly, enunciating every word, 'They're not family. Not any more, since I got Sorted. Even Reg has changed, he's hanging around with all the wrong people -' He broke off, and gave a bitter laugh. 'I suppose he would say that I'm hanging around with all the wrong people. Thing is, Moony, I don't think I am.'
'You mean -'
'You're the only family I've got now. All of you, but you most of all. Don't abandon me?'
'You twit,' Remus said, and his voice was hoarse. 'Come here.' Sirius scrambled over, and Remus put his arms around him. They huddled together in silence until Remus spoke again. 'I never thought of it like that.'
'Maybe you should. This is special, Moony. I don't want to lose it.'
'Me neither.' Remus' voice was muffled.
Sirius wriggled. 'So that's why you've been coming up here? Worrying about the future, so you play those -' - he pointed - 'bagthings?'
'I know it sounds silly. But it helps. I can't paint or write, but this seems to take it out of me. Though it's hard to get a good sound out of them. I should practise more.'
Sirius nodded his agreement. 'You should. Not just because you sound horrible, but because I've just had the best idea ever.'
'Mm?'
'There's a book of Scottish Country Dancing in McGonagall's room. Saw it last week when she was giving me detention. There must be a hundred suits of armour in the castle -'
Remus' eyes sparkled. 'The Great Hall -'
'On the last day of term-'
'Dancing on the tables-'
'Under the mistletoe!'
Both burst out laughing.
'It'll be the best thing ever,' Remus gave a sage nod. 'Padfoot, you have quite excelled yourself.'
Sirius tried to give a seated bow and topped over, dragging Remus with him. 'Until we get expelled. Or until the next time. Moony, one more question?'
'Go on.'
'Why didn't you soundproof the room when you were practising?'
'I don't know.' Remus turned to him, eyes shining. 'Maybe I just wanted to be found.'
--
Author: lazy_neutrino
Written for: lupinlicious
Rating: PG
Prompt: 2. Artistic boys (well, sort of)
Summary: Horrible wailings in the night lead Sirius on a strange quest for the truth.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Thanks to leni_jess and lyras for their thorough beta work. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Silent Night
The ghost was back again.
Sirius opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. Snores rose erratically from one of the other beds. James, he decided, listening to their cadence. Remus never snored. Peter's snores were soft, like a child's, and James had been sporting a rather fine cold of late. Yes, definitely James, he decided as the snores erupted into a bout of coughing. The snorer grumbled in his sleep and turned over, never quite waking up.
Coming to a decision, Sirius thrust the velvet drapes aside. Light whispered under the dormitory door and stretched long fingers into the darkened room. On every window thick curtains were drawn fast to keep the Scottish winter at bay, but the wind tapped enticingly on leaded panes and murmured to him from the gutters. All around, the castle slept.
And now the ghost began again. It scattered its sobs across the air, a wailing that tore at Sirius' heartstrings and irritated him beyond measure at the same time. It was as if a thousand dervishes were drawing long fingernails down blackboards, all at once, and out of time; it was a noise no sane person could stand, and yet -
And yet something about it was beautiful.
Sirius leaned down and grabbed his dressing gown from the floor. Shrugging it on, he pushed the blankets back and padded lightly across the wooden floor towards the door. Tonight he was going to solve this puzzle once and for all, and he would visit the bathroom at the same time.
--
In the bathroom the ghost was even worse. Sound filled the chamber, echoing across the high tiled walls and vaulted ceiling, and flowing through the metal pipes. Sirius jammed his fingers in his ears and then discovered he couldn’t wash his hands.
Damn ghost. Some things were sacrosanct, and a man’s right to pee undisturbed in the middle of the night was one of them. With the light of battle in his eyes, Sirius whipped out his wand. 'Audi', he whispered. The wand quivered, and then jerked upwards. Upstairs.
And so began a merry dance. Twisting and turning like a dowser’s rod, the wand took him along empty corridors and up and down staircases, broad and narrow, straight and spiral, until Sirius had no idea where he was. He came at last to a statue of a troll in full Highland dress. The statue turned its back on him and raised its kilt. In true Scots fashion, it wore no underthings.
I could have lived a lot longer without seeing that. Sirius stared at the dimples on the troll’s rear end, lovingly fashioned by an unknown craftsman many years ago. Aloud he said, 'What a cheek.' The statue dropped its kilt at once and blew a raspberry. Behind it, a panel in the stone wall slid away, revealing a narrow and dusty passage. The mysterious wailing stopped abruptly.
Bugger. 'Lumos.' Light from his wand fell on footprints on the dusty floor. Did ghosts leave footprints? Sirius realised he didn’t know. He shrugged and stepped into the passageway, and the section of wall slid back behind him.
After twenty or so yards he came to a flight of wooden steps leading upwards. He climbed them carefully, peering into the darkness ahead. A small landing ended at a warped wooden door. Sirius gave the door a gentle push and it swung inwards.
It looked at first glance like a lumber room. Piles of chests and trunks were everywhere, stacked at crazy angles. Mismatched scatter cushions lay on the floor. And standing in the very centre of the room -
‘Moony. What the hell are you doing?’
It looked as if someone had taken a very misshapen bag, covered it in tartan and then stuck pipes into it so that they protruded in every direction. Remus seemed to be cradling the thing under one arm and blowing into one of the pipes. A hideous wailing emerged.
Sirius said again, 'Moony.' Still Remus seemed unaware of his presence. 'Silencio.’
That did it. Remus' eyes opened. He let the pipe fall from his lips and stared at Sirius in horror. His mouth opened and closed but no sounds came out.
'Finite Incantatem,' Sirius muttered. 'Moony, what in the name of the four founders are you doing?'
Remus gestured feebly towards the tartan bag. 'Bagpipes,' he mumbled.
'I’m sorry, what?'
'Bagpipes.' This time Remus spoke more clearly.
'Bagpipes.' Sirius approached the thing and gave it a cautious poke. 'They're not alive, then?'
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Remus gave him a stare normally reserved for the stupider first-years and then burst out laughing. 'No, Pads, it's not alive. Look.' He stuck the pipe into his mouth again and blew hard, squeezing the tartan sack at the same time. A bloodcurdling squeal filled the room. Sirius winced and clapped hands over his ears.
'Sorry.' Remus put the bagpipes down. 'I'm not very good yet.'
'You’re telling me.' Sirius spoke with feeling. 'All right. I get that they're bagpipes. It’s a bagpipes? Whichever. And you're trying to get it to make music?' Remus nodded. 'Though I must say,' Sirius continued quickly, before Remus could demonstrate again, 'I think you're onto a loser there, Moony. I thought it was ghosts. What I don't get is why.'
Something flickered in Remus' eyes and was gone. He put the bagpipes down.
'Moony. You can tell me.'
Remus shrugged. 'It'll sound stupid.'
'You usually do.'
It was the right thing to say. Remus grinned and he kicked a cushion over toward Sirius. 'Sit.' He flopped down onto one himself. A cloud of dust rose into the air and he burst out coughing.
'See? Evanesco.' Sirius collapsed gracefully onto his cushion.
'Now. Give.'
'OWLs,' Remus said simply.
Sirius frowned. 'Did you eat one? I thought Prongs caught up with you -'
'Not owls. OWLs. Ordinary Wizarding Levels.'
'It's the last night of term and you're worrying about exams? Moony, you'll be brilliant.'
Remus shook his head. His foot twitched as he searched for words. 'Not the exams. Well, the exams, a bit, but what happens after.'
Sirius scratched his head. 'NEWTs.'
'And then? I don't know if it’s occurred to you, Pads, but there aren't an awful lot of jobs for werewolves right now.'
'Oh. That.'
'Yes,' Remus echoed lightly. 'That.'
There was a pause.
'I think you're right,' Sirius said, when the tension had become unbearable. 'You have got a problem. I'm not even sure you're going to get to do NEWTs, because honestly, Moony, you're the stupidest werewolf I know. You might even be the stupidest person I know, and yes, that does include Montmorency Smith in Hufflepuff and my Great-Great-Great Aunt Zelda on my mother's side who was attacked and eaten by a Lethifold disguised as a snowman.'
'How could a Lethifold -'
'No idea. Don't interrupt. Anyway,' Sirius continued, warming to his subject, 'you don't get to abandon us just like that, Moony, when Hogwarts is over. What did you think we were going to do - fade into the background and disappear?’
'I thought -'
Sirius wagged an angry finger. 'No, you didn't. OK, Prongs will probably marry Evans, even if she doesn't know it yet. They'll get nice cosy jobs as Aurors or something. Wormtail was clutching armfuls of leaflets about the Ministry when he had his careers interview. Can't say I fancy that. I did think about Magical Law Enforcement but they're not too keen on Blacks right now, apparently.' He grinned. 'I thought we could just find somewhere to live and make ourselves useful. How about it?'
'When you say we -' Remus' eyes were wide.
Sirius stretched his legs out and stared at his feet. 'I didn't say this before.' He waited. Remus gave a tiny nod. 'I'm not going home for Christmas, Moony. I can't.' He bit his lips, wondering how to go on, then said slowly, enunciating every word, 'They're not family. Not any more, since I got Sorted. Even Reg has changed, he's hanging around with all the wrong people -' He broke off, and gave a bitter laugh. 'I suppose he would say that I'm hanging around with all the wrong people. Thing is, Moony, I don't think I am.'
'You mean -'
'You're the only family I've got now. All of you, but you most of all. Don't abandon me?'
'You twit,' Remus said, and his voice was hoarse. 'Come here.' Sirius scrambled over, and Remus put his arms around him. They huddled together in silence until Remus spoke again. 'I never thought of it like that.'
'Maybe you should. This is special, Moony. I don't want to lose it.'
'Me neither.' Remus' voice was muffled.
Sirius wriggled. 'So that's why you've been coming up here? Worrying about the future, so you play those -' - he pointed - 'bagthings?'
'I know it sounds silly. But it helps. I can't paint or write, but this seems to take it out of me. Though it's hard to get a good sound out of them. I should practise more.'
Sirius nodded his agreement. 'You should. Not just because you sound horrible, but because I've just had the best idea ever.'
'Mm?'
'There's a book of Scottish Country Dancing in McGonagall's room. Saw it last week when she was giving me detention. There must be a hundred suits of armour in the castle -'
Remus' eyes sparkled. 'The Great Hall -'
'On the last day of term-'
'Dancing on the tables-'
'Under the mistletoe!'
Both burst out laughing.
'It'll be the best thing ever,' Remus gave a sage nod. 'Padfoot, you have quite excelled yourself.'
Sirius tried to give a seated bow and topped over, dragging Remus with him. 'Until we get expelled. Or until the next time. Moony, one more question?'
'Go on.'
'Why didn't you soundproof the room when you were practising?'
'I don't know.' Remus turned to him, eyes shining. 'Maybe I just wanted to be found.'
--