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The Matter of Your Floo


Elphinstone Urquart was concerned about the lapse in memory he was having. Paired with the scent of floo powder in his office when he certainly hadn’t used the network really made him nervous and so on Sunday he went to Dumbledore’s office to talk to the Headmaster about his concerns. “I wouldn’t be bothering you with this if I didn’t find it quite as unnerving as I do… I mean, sure it’s to be expected, lapses of memory once you get to a certain age - you understand, Mr. Dumbledore, I’m sure - but this isn’t like that. Its entirely different.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said.

“I’ve been obliviated before, Albus,” Professor Urquart said, “And it feels a good deal like that. A whole chunk of my memory, simply erased. It’s quite a powerful obliviation spell as well, as in my prior experiences I’ve been able to recover my memories within a short period of time… but this… I expect I was somehow weakened when it was performed.”

Dumbledore rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

It was while he was thinking on the concerns of Elphinstone Urquart that a knock came on the door of the Headmaster’s Office and he looked up, “Come in?”

The door opened - it was Sirius Black, his eye now healed, and clutching a rolled parchment. “Sir,” he said, “I’ve just got back from a bit of an… er… adventure with Professor McGonagall.” He walked up to Dumbledore’s desk and held up the parchment for him to take, “She’s asked me to give this to you.”

Dumbledore took the note and broke the seal she’d closed the parchment with, and unfurled the letter, shaking it out to look it over with a thoughtful expression. His eyes went from concern to sadness to understanding and when he looked up a moment later he murmured,” I see. Thank you for delivering this letter, Mr. Black.”

“Yes, sir,” Sirius said.

Elphinstone Urquart’s brow folded, “Is Minerva alright?” he asked. He looked from Sirius to Dumbledore and back again.

“It seems,” Dumbledore said slowly, “That Minerva’s childhood… friend… Mr. Dougal McGregor has passed away this morning.”

Elphinstones’ eyes widened. “Dougal McGregor’s dead?”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “It seems that way, Mr. Urquart.”

Elphinstone’s voice trembled. “Minerva must be heartbroken.”

“She is,” Sirius confirmed. “Very.”

“She does sound quite heartbroken in this letter… and it seems that Miss. McGonagall has elected to take a leave until post holidays in order to mourn the loss she’s suffered,” Dumbledore supplied.

Elphinstone was staring at his hands intently.

“It appears that she is staying with her brother Malcolm in Faere Dhu,” Dumbledore supplied, staring at the parchment. He lowered his glasses, looking up at Elphinstone. Dumbledore cleared his throat, “I should think that perhaps a delegation from Hogwarts to deliver our deepest regrets to the family should be a most excellent idea,” he looked at Elphinstone for a long moment. “Perhaps, Mr. Urquart, you know of someone who could possibly…?” The edges of his lips twitched beneath his beard.

“I’ll go!” he offered quickly, looking up from his hands. “I’ll go!”

Dumbledore smiled, “Well! That is settled then, isn’t it? Very good. Mr. Elphinstone, if you please will go and prepare to travel to Faere Dhu…? And while you are gone, I shall investigate the matter of your floo.”

“Yes sir.” Elphinstone hurried to his feet and out the door.

Sirius watched him go, thinking of the scene he had stumbled upon that time in McGonagall’s office and then he turned to look at Dumbledore, “What about his floo?”

“That matter is not of your concern, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore replied. “For you, I recommend going and getting a spot of rest as you’ve classes in the morning… and it looks as though you’ve recently suffered an injury to your eye.”

“Yes sir,” Sirius answered. He started to the door, then paused and turned back, “Sir. If Minnie’s not here, who’s gonna teach Transfiguration? ...and if Elphinstone’s going to Faere Dhu as well… Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Dumbledore smiled, “Don’t you worry your head, Mr. Black, I will have the matters under control.”

Remus was waiting in the corridor by the gargoyles when Sirius got downstairs, his arm in a cloth sling that Madam Pomfrey had tied about his neck before releasing him from the hospital wing. “What’d Dumbledore say?” Remus asked, “I saw Professor Urquart come down. What’d he say?”

“Dumbledore’s sent Urquart to Faere Dhu as a delegation for Hogwarts to extend the school’s sympathy,” Sirius answered as the gargoyle closed up the staircase.

Remus looked off down the corridor the direction Urquart had gone, then turned back to Remus. “Are you in trouble for leaving the school grounds?” he asked.

“Not that he mentioned at all, no,” Sirius replied. He put his arm ‘round Remus’s shoulders, “Anyway. Now that I’ve delivered Minnie’s parchment… let us go and get on with ourselves, shall we?”

Remus had started to turn toward the trophey room passageway, but Sirius tightened his grip and quickly redirected Remus off down the corridor to the stairwell. “But the passageway’s much quicker and --” Remus started, but Sirius shook his head, stopping him mid-sentence, “We don’t know, do we, what James Potter might be up to in there,” he said with a smirk. “Might be saying the wrong name again, mightn’t he?” Sirius’s eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“You swore you wouldn’t torture him on it!” Remus exclaimed, “You promised!”

Sirius replied, “Come now, Remus, we both know that torture is an entirely different thing than have a few laughs at, isn’t it?” He grinned. “He can’t just make a slip like that and not expect to be ridiculed!”

Remus replied, “I mean… that would be the goal, yes.”

“Ah well then. The poor lad’s missed his goal, hasn’t he? Perhaps he ought to get himself a new chaser for the team!” Sirius laughed as he started up the stairs, Remus following along, his face burning red with frustration for poor James already… But what Remus could not see was that even as Sirius led the way up the stairs, a very interesting plan indeed was hatching slowly in Sirius Black’s head.




Regulus sat outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on Monday morning, his textbook open on his lap as Barty Crouch and the other fourth year Slytherins messed about with practicing curses on an engorged spider they had found, torturing it with a bit of the cruciatus curse and laughing at the way it’s legs curled and trembled as it’s pincers snapped in agony… It was Barty’s wand that was casting the curse, something that he was getting rather good at, and he grinned about at the other two boys gathered about him as they laughed at the way the poor spider contorted itself.

Regulus was gritting his teeth, about to throw his textbook at the back of Barty Crouch’s head if he didn’t stop bleeding torturing that poor insect when he heard his name being called at the end of the corridor and he turned to see Maryrose Jenkins peeking ‘round the corner for him to come along for a moment. Regulus pushed himself up from the floor and, carrying his textbook with one finger pressed inside the book at the page he’d been reading so not to lose his place. He glanced over his shoulder at the other three buffoons torturing that poor spider and shuddered, walking over to her with a sort of urgency to get away from the others about him.

Maryrose pressed a kiss to Regulus’s mouth as he came to a stop before her. He smiled as he hugged her. “Morning, Maryose.”

“Morning,” she answered and she smiled up at her. She ran her palm over his cheek, “Look at you, Mr. Facial Hair.”

Regulus did indeed have the beginnings of a tiny little bit of scruff growing about the chin and jaw, and he was pleased she’d noticed it because he had worked on cultivating it for some time. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Maryrose smiled, “A little scratchy at the moment, but I reckon it’ll get softer as it grows.” She giggled.

Regulus laughed, flushing slightly, “Yeah, probably.”

Maryrose ran her fingers over it again and laughed, then tugged him by his tie so he would bend forward and kissed him.

Suddenly there was the sound of a clearing throat and Regulus looked up to find Professor Pleiades Gaunt standing before them, staring at them down his nose in disdain, as though he’d just come across a pair of mating animals in the woods or something. “Mr. Black,” he said coldly, levelly, “We will be needing you in the classroom, please, if you’ve finished what you were doing, of course...” Professor Gaunt said

“Yes sir, I’m sorry, I’m coming sir.” Regulus flushed, “Sorry Maryrose, I gotta go.” He ran his hand over her hair - not seeing the look she was giving Mr. Gaunt in his haste to obey the command.

Maryrose watched as Regulus turned and rushed down the corridor toward the now open Defense Against the Dark Arts room… She had just started to turn away when a hand clasped over her shoulder. She turned, following the arm up up up until her eyes met this face.

“Miss. Jenkins, I believe it would be in both of our interests if you would in the future perhaps refrain from making Mr. Black late for his classes?” Professor Gaunt said.

“Sorry sir, you weren’t here yet when I --”

“I don’t need excuses, Miss. Jenkins,” he said, cutting across her voice sharply, interrupting her. “Now. Have a good day.” And he waved her away like he were shooing a fly or some other pesty thing. He watched her go, and as he did, he sneered and he turned, looking toward the classroom - toward Regulus and Barty, who he could just see through the wide open open as Barty laughed as he plucked the legs one by one from the spider…

He reached for his tie, adjusted it just so, then glared after Maryrose Jenkins for several moments… smirking.