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[alt_sirius]

Today I snuck Justin out of the house on an important mission. A pilgrimage of sorts.

We went to Jim Morrison's grave. Really we should have gone Friday next, but with Justin along I wanted to avoid the biggest crowds. He’s still quite shy of people. And the site is already staked out by the faithful, so as it was we had to contend with a number of (mostly female) visitors all snapping candids and leaving offerings. Hard to believe it’s been 21 years. The new headstone looks really good, though.

While we were in the area, I took him to the larger wizarding shopping district for some supplies. He refuses to use quill-and-ink, preferring ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils. Still, I got him some to start him on real writing (and more for myself as I’m running low). And I found him a wand and a small cauldron along with a stout knife, a starting kit of phials, a reasonable pair of dragonhide gloves and his textbooks - hard to find in English, but I got a few, and the rest are French.

From there we went to a favourite Boulangerie of mine. And I nearly had a heart attack.

Lucius Malfoy, bold as a jarvey and twice as cheeky, was taking luncheon inside, with a bevy of French wizards and others I could only assume were his staff, or summat. They'd pretty much taken over the whole bistro – nearly everyone there was some kind of official or diplomat. I even spied a few of the badges that the French Aurors wear.

Well, you can guess, I turned Justin right round in a trice and we walked away as calmly as I could manage. My best hope was that no one inside had spotted us before we’d come too close. But before we got three steps, a young man came running out after us. 'M'sieur!' he was shouting at me, over and over.

I ignored it, but the blighter Apparated to catch up and caught my sleeve. Justin got behind me and I felt for my wand. I was cursing a lack of more drastic disguise, too, but since I've been with the Finch-Fletchleys I've not altered my appearance more than I can achieve without major spellwork or Polyjuice. Enough not to look exactly like my wanted posters, in other words, but close enough that I could be my own brother. 'Que voulez-vous?' I asked, as brusquely as I could, figuring if I were as nasty as possible I might scare the kid off.

He then commenced such rapid-fire but poorly-accented French it was hard for me to follow. Eventually I got the gist. The delegation wanted to round up likely families for a photo op for Le Bonhomme, a French version of our Proper Warlock. I expect Malfoy's keeping it out of the Prophet fairly well, but his visit here has met with a lot of protests and there's pressure on the French Ministry to send him and his pureblood policies packing. So it seems they’re manufacturing some propaganda to sell back home about how welcoming the French have been.

Naturally I refused the offer. He stopped me leaving again and asked (rather desperately, I thought) whether I didn't want my son in the papers. I said of course not.

Then he leaned in very close. I swear under other circumstances I’d have thought he was chatting me up. But instead of making an offer I would have been in no mood to accept anyway, he tentatively whispered my name.

My real name.

I whipped out my wand to Obliviate him, but he hissed 'Grim Truth' very quickly and held up his hands to stay mine. He kept saying it: ‘Grim Truth,’ like a password or the equivalent of waving a flag of parlay. He implored me to put the wand away and not to make a scene or draw attention.

I chanced a look over his shoulder. No one else was even watching through the window, much less coming out to intercept us. The chap himself looked pale, like he wanted to check too but didn’t dare make a hash of it. Either he was a good actor or he really was trying to make contact under the noses of his companions. 'It is you,' he said, 'I was sure I was making a fool of myself. But it is, isn't it?'

'What do you really want?' I asked, in English this time.

'To help you,' he said. 'I don't want to go back to England.'

'You can't help me here,' I said, 'and we're not talking about this with your boss only a few yards away.' I took a step back, keeping Justin behind me. The boy had his hand on my belt loops, by the way, and was shaking like a leaf.

'Meet me in the Rue de la Place tomorrow,' the young man said, and I could hear his urgency now. 'I'll come alone.'

'Not on your life,' I told him. 'Ask the French for asylum if you're so keen to stay.'

I grabbed Justin and side-along-Apparated, right back to Dijon. I was promptly extremely sick, too – a combination of the distance, the haste, my passenger, and I don't mind saying, absolute fright.

I think if he were truly loyal to the Ministry, he’d have raised more of a hue and cry once he confirmed he’d found Sirius Black. Still, that doesn’t mean they won’t have it out of him if he tries to stay behind and fails, or gets caught. Or he could be a really, really good actor and I took a foolish chance by letting him know he’d hit the mark.

I don't think he had any idea who the boy is, but if his superiors make him talk, it shan’t take long for them to figure it out. I'm waiting for Aurors to show up any moment, or that blasted Malfoy himself. I feel the instinct to run, but I don't want to leave the household defenceless if the Ministry should decide to take them in custody or at least investigate the place as a possible shelter for me.

Unless I hear a better plan from any of you lot, I'm going to tell Mrs F-F what happened when I see her tonight, leaving Justin out of it best I can. I'll become their faithful pet for a while in case anyone noses about - that way they can honestly say that there’s no one in the house fitting my description.

So, if you don't hear from me for a few days, it's due to lying low. But if you don't hear in a week ... fear the worst.

I feel wretched. All this time successfully evading them and then to get caught out on a ruddy shopping run.

Comments

[alt_lupin]

Oh Lord, the Morrison years.

[alt_sirius]

Classic!

And gone too soon.

Did you know there were riots at the 20th anniversary? I tried to get there but they were already sending everyone away.

[alt_lupin]

Classic is one word for it. On dark, quiet nights, if I close my eyes and clear my mind, I still hear Riders on the Storm.

Oddly the free and independent press of the Lord Protector chose not to report on that. I'm a little disappointed that you weren't at the front, waving the flag. It doesn't surprise me, though, that you heard about a riot and ran towards it.

[alt_sirius]

You wound me. I did nothing of the kind. I was already en route when the rioting broke out. That was the trip that killed the old bike - the second one, I should say. I had to pull off for repairs and it delayed me. I suppose otherwise I would have been at the wandspoint.



How are you getting on, by the way?

[alt_lupin]

Of course you would.

I'm fine. Everyone's been remarkably nice. Alice is almost due now, so we're spending a fair bit of time worrying about that. Well, I am anyway. She's fairly okay with it all, having done it before, and Frank seems very calm. There are a fair number of other children here already, so it won't want for company. It's rather nice, actually.

[alt_poppy]

Alice is all right, then?

Tell her that I could come at any time, if needed, but it's my plan to remain out here wandering about until the fifth or sixth in order to establish my travels a bit before going off the map, as it were.


Do let me know if I'm needed, though.

[alt_lupin]

Thank you, Poppy. Alice is quite well. I'm sure she or Frank will be in touch if you're needed ahead of schedule, but so far she's just fine. I'll let her know, though.

[alt_lupin]

Be careful.

[alt_sirius]

Yeah, good tip. Thanks.

It would seem things are not as dire as I feared, at least at the moment.

Still keeping a lookout, but feeling a bit more sanguine. Looking back he did genuinely seem sincere. Skittish enough for someone who was worried about discovery.

Still, any close call with the likes of Malfoy about is bound to send me into shudders.

[alt_lupin]

I'm full of excellent suggestions. Do let me know if you need more.

Perhaps he was sincere, but it's a hell of a risk. Then again, as the beneficiary of such risk-taking myself, I suppose I shouldn't really speak against it. Just .. be careful.

[alt_sirius]

Tell me about it. Daft bugger.
And I know, I should've feigned ignorance, gone on the offence and denied any recognition of this Black character. I was just so taken aback by it. Stupid, I admit.

You're not suggesting I'd consider meeting the fellow? Merlin's beard, Moony, I'm reckless but I'm not insane. He's on his own, thankyouverymuch!

[alt_lupin]

Good god, no. Unless there were some way to do it safely, or to ascertain his loyalties first. But no, it's far too much of a risk.

I suppose I just feel for the chap. I know first hand how tough it is to get out from under the far-reaching claws of the Lord Protector and his seemingly endless legion of loyal supporters. And if he works at the Ministry .. well, anyway. Perhaps he will go to the French for asylum.

[alt_sirius]

Well, if he really were sincere, and if that incident is anything to show, then it seems the Grim Truth essays of mine really are getting through. At least, it seemed like it.

It's the way he said it. Sort of like Frank's young Turner - as if it were an invocation.

Bit weird, I don't mind saying. Uncomfortable be on the receiving end of that sort of ... faith, I guess. It's as good a word as any.

(Speaking of Turner, Moony, what's your assessment? The night I met him was not the best of circumstances and since then he's been on the mawkish and shy side. Haven't heard from him since Alice had me send that letter. But you'll have observed him unbiased, as it were. How does he seem to you?)

[alt_poppy]

Should I know who this Jim Morrison was? I've been trying to think since I first read this entry of yours, and I confess that I've drawn a complete blank.

I'm almost afraid to ask. Undoubtedly, it's one of those things that a person of my advanced years and doddering brain wouldn't know, but humour me, would you?

[alt_sirius]

Nothing to do with advanced years, just musical tastes.

He was the lead singer for a Muggle group, the Doors. They were one of my first exposures to muggle rock music.

[alt_poppy]

Oh, dear. Is muggle rock music anything as awful as wizard rock music? Horrendous.

[alt_sirius]

Well, I can't speak to the state of current music in Britain, but out here, the classic 60s and 70s music is still the best. These days in the clubs everything is techno in the muggle clubs and the wizarding bands around here are all about blending old and new instruments.

Overall you can't beat the Warlocks for wizard music, and they seem still to be producing. Even so, they borrowed heavily from the Beatles, didn't they?

Moony's likely rolling his eyes and wishing you hadn't got me started.

[alt_poppy]

Well, Moony (as you call him) may roll his eyes if he likes, but I'm in agreement with you here. The 1970s were the last time I willingly listened to contemporary popular music. You might not think it of me, but I was at Glastonbury for both the Pilton festival in '70 and for the solstice in '71, which they called Glastonbury Fayre, but then I'm more Fairport Convention and Fotheringay than the Warlocks, to be honest. I've never got over Sandy Denny's having died like that and all the talk it was Avada Kedavra and not a stroke. And, of course, we thought them so progressive (and ourselves, too, for that matter), singing and mingling themselves with muggles, Sandy and Richard. And now where are we? And they? Thompson's in North America somewhere, I gather. An exile. And she? Didn't make it to 1980, poor thing. And we are left to wax nostalgic. I suppose you haven't an inkling who I mean, do you?

You probably picked me for a fan of Celestina Warbeck, but honestly. She's too much a diva for my liking. And much too full of herself. It's not as though she's singing songs for the ages. I mean, will anyone be listening in ten year's time?


And what is this 'techno' music you mention?

[alt_sirius]

You were at Pilton?

Morgana and Nimue, you had us fooled. Actually I quite like Fotherngay for more mellow listening.

I wish I'd known. All those nights in the hospital wing we could've been talking about music instead of waiting impatiently to heal up.

Knowing you, even without your musical tastes, I can't imagine Celestina appealing to you - I can bet she was one for tisane and honey and imagined pain that might damage her career.

[alt_poppy]

Yes, well, at your ages then, I must have appeared older than Nimue and Morgana both!

I wasn't yet 50 in 1970, mind you, and I spent much of my time in Glastonbury treating people for rashes and hangovers and other ailments one doesn't mention in polite company. But I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Not that I would go again if they were to revive the notion of outdoor music festivals now. (And how likely is that, I ask you!)

[alt_poppy]

Oh, gracious. I'm afraid I had a pint too many at the Lifeboat Inn last evening and then went all maudlin on you. About music!


I'm sure I don't know what I was thinking!

[alt_sirius]

Think nothing of it. That's sort of how I feel about Morrison, come to it.

I didn't explain techno. It's hard to describe if you're not used to Muggle electricity and such. It's short for 'technologic' - meaning it's on synthesised instruments and electronic keyboards. Lots of pre-recorded beat, sort of like electric organ, and run through their computers to mix out the sound of live music. Rather defeats the point, and far too bubblegum for my taste.

Luckily punk rages on in many a sector to make up for all the American pop bands.

[alt_poppy]

Hrm. Well, insofar as I can imagine what this techno sounds like, I imagine it sounds dreadful.

And punk. Sirius. You're having me on. Yes, yes, youthful rejection of the hypocrisy and materialism of their elders, and striking out for independence from convention, but it all runs rather inevitably to the ingestion of brain-eating substances and from there on to decorative vivisection. How terribly original. Does it really matter whether one bores a hole in one's own tongue to the report of a snare drum or to the sound of someone beating a broom against a rubbish skip? And look what they call themselves! The Shrieking Susans, The Violent Meek, the abject poor (as if capitalising everything or nothing makes one terribly insightful).

Although, I confess I'm not certain whether any of these is properly a punk band or just loud and indigestible. I do my best never to overhear what students are listening to these days. And to me, one spiky-haired, tattooed, semi-dismembered guitarist looks and sounds very much like every other.


Sorry. I'm just back from a rather spirited luncheon with an old friend, and it may be that I need to unwind a bit. In fact, it might be wise if I did not attempt apparating to Devon until tomorrow morning.

[alt_sirius]

Loud and indigestible. I'm not into self-mutilation, either. That sounds more like what they're calling Goth on this side. Perhaps it's a commentary on life in the Protectorate: a youth treatise on the loss of basic freedoms and rights, perhaps?

(And what's wrong with a tattoo? Not to excess, of course.)

Anyway, no, I suppose more properly you'd call my preferred punk the, er, 'hair bands' - Stubby Boardman, Benedictus Slope, and of course on the Muggle side as well, though I shan't bother to provide you their names!

As for the 'electronic revolution,' yes, it's horrid. The first time I heard a song by this young woman named Madonna I nearly left the club in disgust.

Unfortunately she seems inescapable, even in France. And then there are the so-called 'Euro-trash' bands - hair as high as a foot and feathered like an owl flying into a stiff wind. It's mad.

Zeppelin, Tull, Deep Purple and Floyd however, are still perennial enough to find just about anywhere, thank Merlin. And enough wizards this side have heard of them they're even played occasionally in the wizarding clubs.

Nothing equal to Pilton, though. I mean to say, Poppy. Are you quite sure you didn't indulge even a little? I can see you with a wreath of flowers and getting mud between your toes. Admit it.

And all this time I thought that crisp exterior hid an even more prudish nature.

Someone wise told me that under no circumstances ought one Apparate until the toxins had completely passed from one's system, so, do be careful.

[alt_poppy]

I'm certain you mean 'prudish' in the very best sense.

Actually, Sirius, I expected that you would find my indulgences very little, indeed; however, if your idea of indulgence includes flowers in the hair and mud between the toes, then the indiscretions of my younger years might, in fact, surprise you. Were I inclined to tell you of them.


(I shouldn't hold my breath if I were you.)

[alt_sirius]

Oh, and apparently there's a new sound in the American Pacific northwest they're calling 'grunge.' No idea what that means. Sounds to me like the oily buildup in an engine or inside machine gears, but I've not heard it for myself, yet. Sometimes it's a pity France lags behind the States on these things.

[alt_poppy]

Grunge. Indeed. I hope to escape any occasion for hearing it.

I failed to answer you about tattooes, Sirius. I have no objection to them in the abstract. However, at my now somewhat advanced age, it is becoming apparent to me that the flesh upon which, at age twenty, one inscribes a bit of scrollwork or a lovely face is likely to hang differently on one's bones at age eighty or one hundred. The change wrought on what was once artistic and beautiful is too often grotesque.


To put the matter bluntly.

[alt_molly]

Goodness, Sirius, I can see why you found the encounter disconcerting. I certainly can't blame you for being startled enough to give yourself away, but it seems that no harm was done, as long as you don't go out of your way to seek him out again.

I wonder if he will seek asylum.

[alt_sirius]

No idea, though Malfoy's been strangely silent. I suppose he's too busy winning friends in the French Ministry to give us all an inside track.

Meanwhile, seems the close call was in fact harmless enough. That or they're lulling me into a false sense of security. But I can't imagine they'd take the chance I'd bolt if they knew where to look for me. So with any luck the poor bloke has made his move and is throwing a spanner in their works.

So, how did your house party go with all the young folk? I saw their postings and it seemed successful. Burrow still standing?

[alt_molly]

Oh, Ron was enormously pleased with how it all went, and I must confess, I quite liked all the friends he invited. I certainly wouldn't mind in the least hosting them again. Even that young Parkinson girl who seems so friendly with Lucius Malfoy. It helped that the weather was lovely, and so most of the high spirits were kept outdoors.