Remus' bad feeling, as it turns out, was absolutely spot on.

He's fallen asleep on Sirius' bed when his phone rings in his pocket. The vibrations make him jump. It's Auguste.

"Hello?" Remus sits up, his heart beating frighteningly fast.

"Remus, hi," Auguste breathes out.

It's dark, but Remus can't really tell what time it is. "Did you find Sirius?"

"Look, can you just Floo over to Diagon Alley? I'll pick you up from there."

That does absolutely nothing to make Remus feel better. "Oh my God," Remus tries not to panic, as he stunbles to his feet. "He's hurt, isn't he?"

"He's going to be fine, Remus," Auguste tells him gently, and Remus can't understand how he's staying so calm. "I promise. Just come over to Diagon Alley. I'll meet you in front of the Leaky Cauldron."

"I..." Remus feels like he's going to faint, so he stops moving and leans on the wall outside Sirius' room. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

***

Remus almost kills himself trying to Floo because he stumbles over his words. But he manages to make it out in one piece, his coat still unbuttoned. The cold hits him with such a force that it feels like he's being shoved back.

It's only a few days into December, but Diagon Alley is already getting ready for Christmas. All around Remus, the shops are decorated with twinkling fairy lights and shiny Christmas ornaments, and some even have little Christmas trees in their windows. It's bustling, too, as it always is. Remus has never seen Diagon Alley anything less than full to the brim with people.

There are lots of children, too. Small ones, because Hogwarts students can't have got their Christmas holidays yet. Everyone seems so ludicrously happy. Happy and laughing and loud. And all their collective happiness, seeping into the air around them and pricking at his skin, makes Remus want to scratch himself and scrub his clothes to get rid of it.

Remus pulls his coat tighter around him, wishing he'd brought a scarf. He keeps his head down as he walks towards the back of the Leaky Cauldron, because the last thing he needs is getting recognized as the werewolf from the Quibbler.

He doesn't look at anyone as he crosses the pub, just sticks close to the walls and walks in quick strides. He makes it out of the front door just in time for Auguste's car to reverse over to the entrance of the building.

"Hop in," Auguste calls, rolling the window down. Remus does as he's told, sighing as the warmth of the car washes over him.

"Where is he?" Remus asks as soon as they start moving.

"I really don't want you to panic, but—"

"Please just tell me, Auguste. It's killing me,"

"He's at St. Mungo's," Auguste says softly, sparing a small glance at Remus.

Remus blinks.

St. Mungo's.

And then he starts crying.

"Remus." With a screech, the car comes to a halt, and Auguste leans over the gearbox to place a hand on Remus' back. "Hey, it's alright. Sirius will be fine."

Remus nods, covering his face with his hands. He doesn't even know what to think. He can't think. Not anything beyond Oh my God, Sirius is at St. Mungo's on a loop, anyway.

"I'm sorry," he exhales shakily, "I just..."

"It's alright. We should probably tell James, though... I can't reach him, I think his phone is off. And I don't have his girlfriend's phone number."

Remus nods, pulling his phone out. He unlocks it, and halfway into calling Lily, he changes his mind and locks it again. He watches the screen turn black with unprecedented interest.

"Tell me what happened first," he says, wiping at his eyes. "How did you know he's here? Who found him?"

"I found him," Auguste sighs, running a hand through his hair. Remus notices that it's messy. His shirt is creased, too, and not tucked into his jeans like usual. Remus checks his phone for the time.

02:12. Shit.

"And believe it or not," Auguste says, "he called me."

"And... And how did he end up here?"

"His bike crashed. Or he made it crash, I couldn't tell for sure."

Remus freezes, forgetting to breathe and feel and even to exist for a while. "You were... you were on the phone with him? When it happened?"

"Yes," Auguste replies. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel. Whatever emotion he's not letting into his face is settling in his knuckles instead, rendering them a haunting white which reminds Remus of Sirius.

When Remus feels his heart break all over again, as if it wasn't broken enough already, he can't tell if it's for Sirius or Auguste.

"Auguste, I..." He swallows thickly, "That's horrible. Are you okay?"

Auguste turns to him, giving him a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry, Remus."

Remus really wants to give him a hug.

They don't take much longer to reach St. Mungo's, and by the time they do, Remus is terrified. He knows he's been here before. When he was bitten.

That was at the age of five.

But it's all a hazy memory now. His memories of St. Mungo's are no more than fleeting images of dimly-lit corridors and clean-smelling bed sheets. He can remember no faces, but if he tries very hard, he can call to his memory the gentle voice of a Healer, and the warmth of her hand on his forehead.

"They need to find a better way to let people in," Remus mumbles, giving the dilapidated building that serves as a cover for the biggest Wizarding hospital in Britain a cold look.

"It really is a disgrace," Auguste agrees, taking his seatbelt off. "But there's a new ambulance service. They use flying vehicles."

"Really?" Remus follows him out of the car, "Do they have to go in through the window, too?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Auguste sighs.

The building has a facade of red brick, and the board on top of it is barely in good enough condition to read Purge and Dowse, Ltd.

The only thing that keeps Remus from feeling like a madman when they tell the dummy in the window that they want to go to St. Mungo's is the fact that he's barely clinging on to the brink of sanity in the first place. With everything that he's thinking, and everything that he's telling himself not to think about, he's already almost insane.

The Entrance Dummy is a rather ugly thing, stuck in a dress that looks like it's hundreds of years old. A bare minimum of clumps of sickly yellow fibres serve as its hair.

"May we please enter St. Mungo's?" Auguste asks politely, his voice laced with doubt. Neither of them were taught how to speak to dummies. "We're here to see Sirius Black."

The dummy gives a small nod, and Auguste, placing a hand on Remus' back, gives him a gentle push towards the window.

"Come on," he says, looking at Remus with a reassuring smile. "Let's go in."