Part Seven: Through Early January, '76 A Stolen Camera, Four Photographs

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Part Seven:
Through Early January, ’76 A Stolen Camera, Four Photographs, One Flyer, One Formula, And What’s On File

Part Seven: Through Early January, ’76 A Stolen Camera, Four Photographs, One Flyer, One Formula, And What’s On File

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Remus reaches up to wipe ink off his cheek with an inkier thumb and succeeds only in doubling the size of the stain. He doesn't seem to notice, distracted little motions the only
change in his posture as he dedicates himself to research. Sirius rubs at the ink smear on Remus' cheekbone without looking up from the reading in front of them. In the library, time passes strangely, minutes like hours and hours themselves like minutes. Sirius stifles
a yawn and finishes the last paragraph before giving a lazy nod, a wordless 'go on.' Remusturns the heavy page in a cough of dust.

Who knew the architecture of Hogwarts was wound so inseparably in its history? And then Godric did bequeath this, and then Salazar did order that, and then Rowena did instruct such-and-such, and then Helga did desire so-on and so-forth. Centuries of history in two days and only one map -- and that one a replica of an antique, the original floor plan
obsolete before even the first stone was laid.

"Never knew that," Sirius remarks. The silence shifts around them uncomfortably at thefirst spoken interruption in a long while. Possibly years. Remus pauses in shorthand note
taking, the scratching of his quill pausing as well. Sirius clears his throat sheepishly in the ensuing silence. "Never knew that," he repeats, pointing. He feels more than a little stupid.

"Probably because it has nothing to do with secret passageways or hidden rooms or even well-known passageways and perfectly visible rooms. It reads like a History of Magic textbook, Moony. I want to do something."

"You are doing something," Remus replies, gnawing on the tip of his pen. "You'rereading."

"Well, I want to do something besides sit here and think about stabbing myself in the head," Sirius says. "You know what I've been doing for fun? Watching that ink stain grow on your face. You have to stop chewing on that pen, every time you do the feathers go and it smears." Remus looks down at the quill and colors. "God, I've read this sentence about twelve million times."

"I only just turned the page," Remus reminds him.

"I know that, it's just that there's no bloody difference between this new sentence and the one on the last page that I read twelve million times! Look, I'm closing my eyes: I bet you a hundred Galleons it says something like 'This, too, was another crucial development in
the ultimate building of the school that many had thought would never be built.'"

"It actually says 'a critical factor,' but that's uncanny," Remus says. After a moment, he sneezes. "Dusty."

"Bless you. Do you see what I mean? And the dust is giving me the black lung. Can we go run around the castle or something? Please? Do you want to do a hornpipe with me? I swear, lack of movement has driven me illiterate."

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