Of course, pointing out that it was individuals like Fenrir Greyback whose actions gave werewolves a bad name and caused other magic users to fear them was a very bad idea. For many of the werewolves here, Fenrir was all that they had. As cruel as their leader could be he was also their protector and in many cases the only father figure many of them new. Of course, there was the fact that he alone was responsible for more than half of werewolves in the group being bitten and becoming werewolves in the first place, but that fact was neither here nor there for the vast majority.
The pack was all that they had.
Remus sighed and set his half eaten can of baked beans aside before stretching out on hid makeshift bed and pulling two blankets over himself. He supposed he could easily have conjured up a proper bed to sleep on but in the event of another werewolf coming sniffing around he did not want to look like he had it too comfortable. Nor did he want to rub the fact that he was a wand user in their faces. As it was he thought that the warming charms were pushing it enough!
Settling himself down for as decent a sleep as he could get these days, Remus gave a flick of his wand and extinguished the light form the never-ending candle, plunging the den into darkness.
He wondered if Hagrid was having any more luck in recruiting the giants than he was with recruiting the werewolves.
Sticking to the shadows, the large black dog slunk his way through the darkened streets of Hogsmeade, looking for a bin to raid. The three that he had searched so far had proved to be useless to him but he held out hope that the one out the front of The Three Broomsticks would prove fruitful.
Slowly and quietly so as to not draw attention he made his way towards the famous Inn, his ears straining to pick up any sound at all. There were lights on in the pub, proving that there were still people situated at the bar and Padfoot knew he was taking a risk but he had to get information!
He reached the bin and placed his forepaws on the top before pausing. How to open the lid on the bin without changing back into a human? Before he used to just knock the bin over but with the Three Broomsticks full he couldn't take the change of someone overhearing him.
Suddenly his decision was made for him as Aurors John Dawlish and Bertram Savage rounded the corner of the pub.
Sirius ducked down behind the bin and listened fearfully as the two men got closer.
Step by step they got nearer to him and Padfoot's heart was beating so fact that he was certain sure that they must be able to hear it.
Then he heard their heavy boots tromping up the wooden steps at the front of the pub, followed by the sound of the door opening and the noise and clamour from within the bar flooded the street. It sounded a lot busier in there than Padfoot had thought.
"Evening Rosemerta!" he heard Dawlish's voice say loudly.
"Evening lads," came the reply of the curvy landlady. "What can I get you this evening?"
And then the door swung shut and Padfoot turned and bolted off into the night. With just a few patrons in the bar he would have been willing to take his chances and risk it, but that bar was full and worse there were Aurors traipsing around!
The black dog, easily the size of a small bear didn't stop until the village of Hogsmeade was well behind him. Panting he turned to look back down the hillside to the village just in time to see a couple of shadowy figures stumble out through the front door of The Three Broomsticks and shuffle off towards their homes.
Padfoot turned and continued on his way up the hillside. The cave that he had stayed in the previous year was relatively easy for him to find and he slipped inside the dark opening before reverting back into his human form.
Sirius took out his wand and trunk and began setting up his own base of operations. Within minutes the trunk was back to its normal size, he had conjured up a decently sized bed and was heading up two eggs and three rashers of bacon in a conjured saucepan over bluebell flames before heading back to the entrance and casting a glamour charm over it to avoid drawing unwanted attention.
Moments later he was sitting down on his bed, his evening meal on a plate in his lap. He decided he rather liked being back here. It was certainly less depressing than being in that dratted house of his. And unlike the last time he was here he had a pretty decent setup going, what with his comfortable bed, warm, clean clothes, a stash of decent food and, most importantly, a few bottles of Ogden's Finest.
Speaking of which…
He reached over to his trunk and pulled out the half empty pull from which he promptly took a heavy pull. After belching out the flaming burp which usually accompanied the consumption of fire whiskey he settled himself back on his bed and settled in for what looked like would be the best night he had had in a very long time!
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