A man who's dedicated his life in the pursuit of some measure of equality in law - even through darker means. Suddenly finds himself in the Magical world.
In place of one man who could have changed so much had luck been different. He had the name, the blood, the money, the reputation. What could he do with such a boon? Only there is one... Slight problem.. OC/SI into Sirius Black.
So here yet again, I follow my muse and when it wants something written I write it - it's how I avoid getting stuck really. Not forcing myself into one of my stories, writing as I flow along, jumping between them.
It's how I keep motivated as well. Even if no one ends up reading it - I still write it for me.
So another OC/SI, just seems to be my thing. This time a somewhat morally corrupt, but not really that bad of a guy - ends up in Harry Potter. Not quite in the way anyone wants to.
I am JollyHippopotamus on A03, SB and FF.
Hope you enjoy it,
Here's chapter 1: A Sirius Matter.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
If you've ever read or heard about the concept of a being being inserted in another universe - it's usually pretty straightforward. You either body jack the main protagonist or his love interest, or even the villain. Sometimes from birth - sometimes you're just there between one moment and the next in an important moment of their life.
Usually a rather devastating moment - but that is what makes a protagonist is it not? What would Bruce Wayne/Batman be without his parents murder?
Likely not a man running around in a bat costume fighting clowns, that's for sure.
It sets you on a somewhat predictable route, as nine times out of ten - you know the story, and can take advantage. Whether you go the way of the manipulator, the villain, or the plucky hero - the world is your oyster. You have all the advantages.
Future knowledge. You know the people. Their dreams, desires, the way they act. The way they think. It's almost like you can't fail.
So that does beg the question… What the fuck had he ever done in his life to piss some damn deity off, or whoever it is that is in charge of these body jacking experiences. Because, really?
Because he did not get a nice sweet gig as the plucky hero or malevolent villain. No growing up knowing absolutely everything that would happen every step of the way. No handy road map to world domination or the adulation of the masses.
One moment he was in bed, falling asleep. Comfortable in his own life - albeit maybe not challenged enough. Pleased that his efforts at his extracurricular job would finally see that bastard Hedge fund shite McGoffrey fired - and possibly charged for fraud - at minimum. Depending how much of the evidence, real and planted - that they could find.
Sometimes the law needed a helping hand to find the right way - it's not really criminal is it? More like a civic duty. If they were guilty - what did it matter if the evidence to convict them was necessarily real.
The next moment he woke, not in his bed, in his shit hole apartment, instead he found himself getting up from a kneeling position with a desperate shudder, confused and so incredibly cold, shaking uncontrollably, as he stared at the retreating Dementor. Gliding out of his cell, in what could only be Azkaban! From the circle of frost around him, and the same frost clinging to his beard - he had just been kissed!
He'd been an avid fan of Harry Potter, not for the boy hero really, as he found him somewhat dull and predictable. But for the complexity of the adults. Incompetent yet powerful. Subtle and cunning - yet emotionally retarded. The likes of Severus Snape and Sirius Black. Their stories intrigued him - even as only hints to their depths were revealed in canon.
The cell doors slammed shut by themselves when the Dementor exited, drawing his confused attention again - the original soul tucked away in its belly, or wherever it goes. The imposing, black and disgustingly oily and hungry feeling stones of his cell, loomed over and around him - giving off a feel like they would press in and crush him any moment.
Azkaban was not made to feel pleasant. Even without the Dementors immediate presence he felt horrible.
His breaths came out in short gasps - the chill off the cell making it painful to breathe. He didn't even know who he was - who had been kissed for him to replace them, what time was he in? Which criminal was he? Was he a Death Eater? A quick glance at a filthy and shaking left arm at least gave him that relief - no dark mark. He checked the right as well for reassurance, still no mark.
Not that he overly cared about such distinctions as light and dark. He knew enough about life to know, that sometimes things just needed to get done - and there was no point in quibbling about how. Not as long as the end result was the same. But to be one of the branded cattle beholden to a megalomaniac with no nose was just not cricket.
He didn't have anything against being a so-called bad guy - in principle. But he drew the lines at cartoonishly evil idiots. If he had to be a minion let it be to an evil genius, really. One who only ever fails because story fiat says the good guy has to win. Especially as an evil genius rarely made life worse for the regular innocent - just fucking over the heroes and government. He'd been behind a bevy of morally questionable actions over the years. And some that weren't even toeing the line of questionable and were simply outright illegal - but it was always for a purpose. Achieving an end that made the world better. One scumbag at a time, the kind that couldn't be touched by regular law without some outside assistance.
Politicians, Billionaire CEOs, Law Enforcement Brass, Media Moguls. The one percenters who always got away with it. Who paid off, intimidated or outright disappeared those who could talk about their… Proclivities.
He'd find something to stick to them, or he'd make up something to stick and plant it. And enough of it to force even their kind to lose careers, and in the best case scenarios - their freedom. In the end even money couldn't buy safety from everything. Not with people like him. Equalizers they called themselves - even if they were not really a group in any way. More like a loose set of people with the same idea.
Equalizers, because they made the arrogant and powerful equal to the common man in the end. Forced the law to be applied to even these monsters of the modern world. And although he'd never had to personally go that far… Ended them - when even their assistance wasn't enough for a conviction.
Vaguely he heard voices at the end of the hall as the Dementors presence faded. They were speaking too quietly for him to catch it all. But apparently whoever he was, whoever he is now - they were happy he'd been kissed. They were celebrating a man getting his soul destroyed.
It was all too shocking, too confusing, he felt consciousness slip away as he slid to the cold stone floor. The prison garb doing nothing to protect him from the lingering cold.
Whatever had he done to deserve this?
Surely if there was a God… He wasn't punishing him for taking down scum? Was he?
For a while the days and nights passed in a blur. His memories were scrambled, somehow - despite the man before him getting his soul sucked out - pieces of him lingered - just not with any conscious mind attached anymore.
His best hypothesis was that the body's magic. His magic now. Still held an imprint of the soul or the life of the man before him. It was an imprecise theory, but it was the best he had to go on as to why a soulless husk still remembered - even if he'd replaced the soul apparently immediately after the kiss. The magic he could feel inside him, still held memories of a life, of being used. Albeit incomplete.
There were flashes of memories, from childhood, lessons and celebrations. He learned all about Beltane and Samhain, the winter and summer solstices, the great hunt. He also learnt the feel of being under the cruciatus curse at some point in his early teens - those memories particularly harsh and vivid.
He was not a fan - even just a memory showing clearly why the curse was unforgivable. And done by his own mother apparently. Absolutely appalling. Precisely the kind of person his previous life's comrades would have sought out to… Equalize. Rich, politically protected, privileged, ruthless and cruel. The kind of people the common man has no protection from if their gaze turns to their innocent families. And his new body and memories, was borne of just this kind of sick wealth.
There were flashes of Hogwarts, of classes, of friendship and hated enemies - of werewolves and Animagi. Never quite the full picture, the memories jagged and not quite fitting. Giving a vague idea in some places, but not quite having the context. Showing parts of the whole - a life lived, but not really getting a whole life's worth. For every memory he encountered - ten more slipped through his fingers like nothing but vapor.
He knew now that he was Sirius Black - somehow he felt like Sirius Black, despite his other life having more memories to hold on to. He knew, even without meta knowledge - that he'd been completely blindsided by Peter Pettigrew and dumped into Azkaban as refuse - no trial, no interrogation - none of his friends, allies or superiors taking one minute to question, why?
His entire life waved away without thought or care - showing what he truly was worth to those he had thought held him dear.
With the Dementors kiss and the traumatic experience of taking over the shell and its somehow lingering memories - he was truly Sirius Black - with more memories from a book series in another world, then he had of his own life. Yet somehow stitched together in a way where he felt… Whole. Like one person. Even if he was an amalgamation of some sort.
And for whatever reason, his cell had been opened to administer the Dementors kiss - he seriously doubted legally. And yet, every morning and evening - the bowl of water and tasteless pale gruel would still arrive in his cell. The waste disappeared as well by whatever magic the cell had - he never had to expel it in the first place, which he was grateful for, the cell was bad enough as it was. None were the wiser it seemed, that he was being fed, that he was still alive. It appeared the human guards did not patrol the corridors, or pay attention to how many bowls were filled in a day.
With the shit they were being fed, he assumed some sort of automatic system. He'd been an Auror - he remembered. Part of it anyway. But Azkaban hadn't been something he'd learned a lot about. Certainly not enough to know where the food comes from.
Unfortunately the corridors were patrolled still - by the Dementors. Sirius could feel his sanity slipping every day he was subjected to the demons - ice cold fingers raking across his mind, dragging out any happiness and hope with them. The Dementors seemed to find a reason to go by his cell even more than the others - perhaps because of the duality of his memories. He had more to feast on.
He suffered more. Which made him dig in more desperately, his memories blending together as he sought refuge. More and more every day he saw himself more as Sirius, as whatever good memories he held from his other life kept being attacked and savored by the Dementors.
Day and night he desperately searched his memories - going over spells and magic he'd learned, trying to force the memory of a certain one. Despairing as memories of family rituals and ceremonies, the memories of childhood were so much stronger than anything else. Perhaps because the original Sirius had so suppressed them while he had practically lived his Hogwarts years over and over again. Those happy memories were perfect feeding for the Dementors, yet the man hadn't been able to help himself, going back to the only time he'd been happy. Over and over again.
In the weeks it took - he was practically at the point of suicide, anything was worth escaping the Dementors - the horror of their presence couldn't adequately be explained to a muggle, the feeling was worse then any torture he could imagine. Yet finally, he succeeded in transforming into Padfoot. Gaining momentary respite from the full effect of the Dementors. If not any relief from the cold dark stones of Azkaban itself - soaked in dark magic and suffering. The walls themselves savored the pain and imposed a feeling of terror on its occupants. The cold north sea wind arrived constantly through the tiny window at the top of the cell - ensuring there was never any warmth with which to find succor in. What little he knew of Azkaban - that he could find in his brittle mind - told of an ancient Dark Lord creating the fortress. Of immense suffering the cause of the stones' qualities.
He believed it. He felt it.
He also believed the stories of the first prisoners of the famed fortress having suffered so terribly they'd become the first Dementors. Cursed to roam the world and cause suffering - having not a single redeeming quality - true dark creatures.
He despaired and fought night terrors and panic attacks - even as he tried to think of solutions - ways out. Whenever his mind was clear enough from the Dementors assault on his very being.
Unfortunately, he must have been in the early stages of his confinement - because he was still much too plump in his Animagus form to even think of trying to squeeze through the bars. What a thing to wish for, that he was more starved - so that he could use it to survive.
Yet he couldn't make himself stop eating the gruel. Needing every ounce of energy to continue to resist the Dementors.
He'd never been good at giving up. He hadn't when his father fell to drink and eventual suicide when his life long career was destroyed by a conglomerate buying up their business and cutting it into pieces for re-sale. He hadn't when he'd been forced out from college in disgrace for going after a trust fund brat who'd thought it natural that he take whatever he wanted - including from his best friend's sister. He'd kept working, kept studying - although no longer official classes… Kept trying, kept moving on, moving up. Until one day he'd come across the mention of the Equalizers - and had realized where he could do his part.
He wouldn't give up now either. And that's why he kept eating. Kept trying.
The best he could do however, was to draw on his disused Occlumency skills, what of it he could remember from childhood days long gone - and his war time accelerated Auror training - and hope beyond hope - even if that just drew the Dementors in - that the Minister for Magic did the yearly inspection mentioned in the books… And that it was something done even before Cornelius Fudge took over.
It wasn't much - but it would be a single opportunity to attempt something. To get a chance for a trial at the very least. To push for anything other than remaining here in hell.
And if he got out… He'd make sure to destroy the Dementors. Hatred was something both original Sirius and him had in common. And now Azkaban… The Dementors… The Ministry… Dumbledore…. He'd make them all pay! One way or the other! He'd revamp the entire damn magical world if he had to!
The more he focused on that, on his hate. The less pain he felt as the days and weeks and then months went by.
Suffering through endless torture. Fighting to keep his mind intact. This new duality of him - that was the new Sirius Black.
The magical world was in need of an Equalizer…
As Padfoot his ears perked up as he heard distant voices - he couldn't estimate time very well, but he'd guesstimate he'd been in lovely Azkaban for nearly six months now. The Auror guards never came down to the maximum security wing however, so something was happening. He silently transformed back and stepped up to his cell door. Eyes widening as he could spot the flickering light moving his way - the ministry inspection! It must be!
If it was another prisoner arriving they wouldn't arrive like this. There would be Dementors.
Soon enough he could see them. Four Aurors - two with their Patronuses out and about circling the group, a Rabbit and a Tortoise. He recognized the warden - from his own Auror days. The longer he spent as Padfoot, the more memories were slowly returning to him, somehow. And he also recognized Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be here. Or perhaps due to the last person following behind her - a reporter, peppering the minister with questions.
It was like Christmas, a reporter was better than anything he could have dreamed of.
"Soon we should be upon the cell of Sirius Black, not much to see, I'm afraid. I've been told he was accidentally kissed by a Dementor shortly after arriving here." Bagnold was explaining to the reporter, a somewhat unassuming short and balding man who was eagerly taking notes, even as his eyes flittered warily around the cells.
"Accident my magnificent arse! Dementors can't open the damn cell doors, Bagnold!' Sirius called out loudly, slamming a hand into the bars for effect, startling the whole group, "Almost the worst kiss of my life, there was this bird in Hogwarts, you know, she somehow managed to outperform the Dementor in awfulness, scarily bad snogger she was!" He scratched his beard, eying the Auror escort, "The Dementor had nicer breath too, now that I think of it."
"Black!? How in Merlin's name…?" Bagnold had frozen, the Aurors were so shocked one patronus even winked out - the tortoise. Bagnold turned, flustered to the warden, "You said he'd been kissed!" She hissed, accusingly, hands trembling.
Sirius made exaggerated kissing noises at the outraged Minister, puckering his lips. One of the Aurors had to hide a chuckle behind a cough. The lead sent him a warning look and he stopped, blushing as he re-cast his patronus - the tortoise again swimming in the air around the group.
The warden, a sour old man that had served in his position for four decades, shook his head slowly, peering at Sirius with wide frightened eyes, "He was minister, no doubt about it, he received the Dementor's kiss just as we'd been told to administer it!" He spat out, making a sign as if to ward off evil.
"Sirius Black, so it's true then? You survived a Dementor's kiss? What dark magic did you use?" The reporter immediately jumped in, before glancing at the Minister slyly, "And the warden was told to administer the kiss, Minister? I thought it was an accident?"
Bagnold spluttered, not finding any words, looking between the warden and her Auror escort helplessly. The flickering light playing across her face, making the paleness of her face stand out. Especially in the eerie black halls of Azkaban.
"No dark magic here, mate! I'm innocent, never had a trial, see… Magic itself protected me from the kiss, it's why I haven't gone nutters either, Dementors can't feed on an innocent man the same." Sirius explained with a quick pained grin, the whole thing a load of bollocks, but with a reporter here, he had the chance to really ham it up, and hopefully make the story juicy enough that the wizarding world would have to take notice.
"Preposterous! You betrayed the Potter's to You-know-who!" Bagnold snapped, "I don't know how you're alive but you're far from innocent, Black!"
Sirius showed his palms, as he held his hands up and affected an injured look, as much as he could when he was covered in filth and desperately needed a shave.
"I didn't do it, and I'd take Veritaserum or swear an oath to that anywhere, anytime, anyhow. I would have never betrayed them!"
"You'll be lucky if I don't have you kissed right here and now!" Bagnold cried out, "You are a deranged dangerous criminal and I will not have your lies upsetting a magical world that just finally found peace!"
"I am the heir to the most ancient and noble house of Black." Sirius said, dropping the affable attitude and sneering at the Minister. Fudge or Bagnold, cut from the same cloth it seemed, "You are already going to face the consequences for having me sent to Azkaban without a trial or even a bloody interrogation! Let alone the kiss! What do you think the Wizengamot will say if you suck the soul out of one of it's heirs by your say so alone - after finding reasons to believe I'm not here justly." Sirius held Bagnolds gaze, before slowly sliding his eyes towards the reporter who was furiously taking notes.
Bagnold visibly deflated, looking helplessly again at her escort. The warden had pointedly taken several steps back - distancing himself from the whole matter.
Sirius didn't know why he bothered. The man could probably kill the Minister and still keep his post. There wasn't anyone aiming for his job. He'd had it for four decades for a reason. No pay was worth Azkaban. The gossip amongst the Aurors ranged from the man being a half Dementor - born from a prisoner - to the man being too dull to actually have feelings or memories and therefore unaffected by the creatures.
"Minister… Maybe it's for the best that we take him to a ministry holding cell and hold a trial - just in case." The lead Auror said quietly, stepping up next to the Minister. Sirius recognized him, Rufus Scrimgeour - his lion's mane and gruff face easily placed, even with his patchy memories. Although the slight limp to the man's walk was new.
A political animal to the bone. If Sirius was set free - Rufus could count on the Black family owing him one. Worth its weight in gold in the ministry, at least until they all die mysteriously in the next few years. Perhaps Sirius can stop that - if he wants to... As for Rufus, even if Sirius was to be found guilty again - he'd simply provided a solution to the Minister and followed procedures and protocols and he'd still come out ahead. Just doing his job, safeguarding the Ministry and all that rot.
"Oh, very well. But stun him and bind him, I want no chance for this to become an escape attempt." Bagnold said irritably, turning to the reporter, "And see here, you won't write anything until the Wizengamot have met and -"
Sirius heard no more as Rufus wasted no time and turned his wand on him and stunned him.
Even as he saw the spell coming he smirked, he'd won, trial or not, being out of Azkaban was a win, and as long as he could contact his family - he'd never be sent back there.
Even if they tried to refuse him Veritaserum or tried to railroad him - the Black family gold would ensure his freedom. It had worked for Lucius Malfoy, it would work for him. He couldn't care less about how would people would see him at that point - only that he wouldn't go back here!
The red light overtook him and everything went dark, but Sirius Black was smiling, even as the Minister and Aurors dragged him back to the Ministry.
Sirius came awake with a start, looking around wildly and not able to withhold a sob as he realized it was not a dream - he really was out of that demon infested hellscape.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime - his bones didn't ache from the chill. He was warm. He marveled at the feeling. Watching his fingers which weren't blue anymore.
"Didn't take you as the crying kind, Black." A gruff voice came from just a short distance away.
Sirius rose from the gray bed attached to his ministry cell interior wall, and walked up to the bars - the room pleasant compared to his previous accommodation. On the other side he could see his old squad leader - Alastor Moody.
"You have a little something, right there." He said, trying for a grin, but aware it likely looked more like a grimace, as he waved vaguely to Alastor's new eye. Merlin, that looked disturbing. The chunk out of his nose wasn't exactly pleasant to look at either.
Alastor stared him down, grimly. The electric blue eye swiveled in his head to look all around the cell block - searching for threats, no doubt. "I got it chasing down scum like yourself, Black…" He growled, normal eye hard and cold.
"I'm not a Death Eater!" Sirius growled back, slamming into the cell door, meeting Alastor's eyes, "I would never betray James and Lily! How could any of you ever believe that!?" He snarled, canines poking out, as he practically roared it out.
Even if he wasn't more than maybe a third Sirius Black at this point… Those memories, the hurt and anger and hate. The anguish and guilt. It was still all there beyond anything else. He might not feel it as keenly as the original. But he still remembered. And any human would feel angry at such monumental betrayal. He'd been in Azkaban because men like the one in front of him - hadn't been bothered to so much as question him. Just washed their hands of bad rubbish and moved on.
Moody didn't even flinch, he just scoffed, "What else am I supposed to believe, Black? You blew up Pettigrew and a bunch of muggles - not really screaming innocent to me, laddie."
"The trial will prove you all wrong, I'll go under Veritaserum, take an oath, whatever you need, I'm sure my lawyer will get it all sorted." Sirius said, dropping back from the cell, emotions draining away, no one would believe him until then. Bitterness swelled within him. Even knowing the future and that they were actually good people - it didn't help mitigate the hurt that they all abandoned him without even an attempt to find out what happened. And Merlin it wasn't even him, not really. He remembered a whole other life. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, how anguished the real Sirius Black must have been - if the ghost of his memories affected him in this way. This new him was going to be something to get used to.
"We'll see, Black, the trials in two hours, you'll get your chance - with a court appointed defender." Alastor said, with a slow shake of his head.
Sirius' eyes widened and he straightened up, grasping the bars of the cell, "What do you mean, two hours? How long have I been out? And why haven't I been allowed my own representation?" The railroad scenario he had been worried about started to seem more likely now…
Circe's tits! It's for shite like this he became what he'd become in his old life. The justice system should not operate on the ideal of what looks good for those in charge.
"You're a criminal and a mass murderer, Black. Be glad you get another trial and a defender at all." Alastor said with disgust, turning away.
"Moody, wait!" Sirius yelled, desperately. The old Auror continued to walk, "Moody I never had a damn trial! They never even checked my wand!" He screamed, slamming his fists against the bars.
Moody stopped for a moment, hesitating, before shaking his head, "If that is true, you'll be fine in the trial, Black." He muttered, skeptical.
Even now, he didn't believe him. Wouldn't hear him out. Had no interest in caring, because it was just a Black.
Sirius watched the Auror continue on his way, searching for anything, something that could help him, if they've kept him under for the entire time until the trial, and hadn't allowed him to contact his family, or a lawyer. Then Bagnold had probably stacked the deck to send him back to Azkaban - and he'd die before he got sent back there.
"Moody! IT WAS PETTIGREW!" He screamed so loudly it was as if the entire cell was shaking, desperate and raw. "He's a rat Animagus, he cut his own finger off, blew up the street and escaped into the sewers - check the Weasley family, he's likely hiding there, he'd go to devoted Dumbledore supporters to hide from the other Death Eaters! We switched secret keepers because no one would ever suspect him!" He had no way of explaining how he'd known that Pettigrew was with the Weasley's - but right now he needed anything that would turn this trial into his favor. "Moody, please!!"
"You're insane, Black, Azkaban has done a number on you after all, it seems." The scarred Auror said lowly, before shaking his head again and continuing on his way.
"Moody! It doesn't harm anything to check on what I said! You're an Auror! Moody! MOODY!" Sirius banged on the bars again, but there was no reply. He was gone.
He could only hope the trial wasn't a sham, and he'd get the chance to defend himself.
He sank to the floor of his cell and hugged his knees - he couldn't go back, he just couldn't.
Please don't make him go back.
Pleasepleaseplease
Things soon progressed to the worst case scenario. Sirius found himself cuffed and muzzled as he was led to courtroom ten - the worst part was that he instinctively wanted to make a dog joke and couldn't - he really was Sirius Black now wasn't he?
Four Aurors surrounded him as they frog marched him into the room. He tried to walk in a somewhat dignified manner, but it failed as the Aurors grabbed him by the arms and dragged him - once they entered the courtroom, making a show out of it. Placing him on a chair in front of the entire Wizengamot, the chains wrapping around him completely. The muzzle left on. He glared at the spot where Bagnold was sitting. The absolute bitch wasn't going to give him a chance.
The Ministry didn't change its spots no matter what decade it was… Funny how eager they were to send him back to hell, when they'd been so eager to pardon literally everyone else.
He looked around the room, recognizing many, as both allies and enemies - although in this case, he likely had no allies at all.
He made eye contact with his grandfather, Arcturus Black - and found no help there. He too, believed Sirius was guilty.
Fucking bastard! Didn't do shite for him when he was on the light side and now that he's presumed dark… Won't do shite this time either. Anything for family… What rot!
A brief study of Albus Dumbledore, in his all too shiny and extravagant robes - found no quarter either. The venerable old Headmaster staring down at him with disappointment from his seat as chief warlock.
Another one that couldn't even be bothered to sit down and ask him with sad twinkly eyes why he'd done it - take even five minutes to try and learn why. Sirius Black was of that little importance. The sum of his life was relegated to his last name and nothing more.
Had he been named Weasley or Diggory, he'd have had a trial, no doubt. Dumbledore would have made sure of it.
The gallery was full, he saw, as he continued to crane his neck, looking around. Reporters and nosy citizens crammed into the courtroom - with the full complement of the Wizengamot all present.
He even saw that the wireless was here and broadcasting - an incredible rarity in a trial. Bagnold, that cow, was that secure in her victory. She wanted to crow in front of everyone about sending him away for life. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd push for the Dementors kiss, making it all official, he doubted he'd survive it as he'd arrived here because the original hadn't. Although according to his memories - the kiss was almost impossible to get approved. Made him wonder how Fudge managed it - the fear of the breakout must have been the decisive push to secure the vote.
Dumbledore called for attention and quieted the room, "We are here today to correct a miscarriage of justice that was found on the most recent yearly inspection of Azkaban." Dumbledore paused for effect as he peered down at Sirius who glared balefully up at him, "Sirius Black was found to have never received his day in court, and has therefore been brought before us, so that we may pass judgment, however late, for his actions against the magical world as well as the muggle one."
Riotous noise broke out as the visitors gallery exploded in jeers and accusations. Sirius was not able to do anything but sit stoically and listen to the hate being spewed at him. Dumbledore allowed it to go on for a minute before banging his gavel and once again quieting the room. The visitors settled quickly under his stern gaze. Likely every one of them once having gone through Hogwarts under his aegis and therefore holding him in high esteem. Like Sirius once had.
"Presenting the case for the Ministry will be Minister Bagnold herself." Dumbledore called out, before reading from a set of parchment in front of him, "And representing the accused is…" Dumbledore looked from the parchment and towards Bagnold, frowning slightly, "A Mister Thornton…" He trailed off as a young man, barely out of Hogwarts, and visibly sweating, walked up to the podium next to the Minister.
"Millicent, this is highly irregular… I know Mister Thornton graduated Hogwarts last year, he, as far as I am aware, is not trained in law…" Dumbledore seemed put out at the obvious interference and Sirius allowed himself to hope, just a little.
"Nonsense, Albus, young Mister Thornton joined us as a law clerk at the DMLE last year, and that's enough experience really for an obvious case as this, he's the only one that volunteered as is, no one wanted the job, you see." Bagnold explained dismissively, waving a hand at the young man who's standing perfectly still, like he's afraid to breathe too loudly in front of so many influential members of the wizarding world.
Yes, someone working for the ministry in his first year, will surely fight the MINISTRY very hard… Sirius thought sarcastically, trying to hold down his mounting fear. Dumbledore was all about fair play, in this at least, surely…
Dumbledore hummed, looking through his parchments again, and Sirius' heart sank as he saw the old headmaster's demeanor change. Once again the old man was willing to let injustice go - because it was only Sirius.
"While highly unusual, it's not technically against law or protocol - so I see no reason to object to the start of proceedings." Dumbledore said after a brief pause. His eyes however flicked to his podium immediately after as a light lit up. "The chair recognizes the house of Malfoy." He said slowly, reluctantly. Although he kept a perfectly polite mien.
Sirius' eyes widened as he craned his neck to where Lucius Malfoy was standing up, amongst the Wizengamot members. Who'd died and given the peacock a Wizengamot seat? Last he knew the Malfoy's didn't have one - having come over from France a couple hundred years ago. Wizengamot seats were not given to families that couldn't even count themselves as noble. Not in Britain at least. Who had he murdered for this privilege, Sirius thought, narrowing his eyes at the blond ponce.
"Whether it is within the parameters of procedure or not - is this chamber really going to continue to let an heir to one of the most noble bloodlines in the world, be treated like this?" Lucius said disdainfully, both hands on his serpent topped cane. "A scion of a sacred twenty-eight house was in Azkaban for two years without a trial, and you brought him here, muzzled as a beast - not allowed to speak for himself, nor allowed his own counsel? Is this how much purity of blood is worth today?"
He abruptly sat down as soon as he finished, as a cacophony of noise exploded in the chambers. Several members of the Wizengamot - notably those who were once Imperiused, raised their voices to agree - as the visitors gallery exploded in rage and mockery. Yet… With a lot of voices raised in support. Not of Sirius himself, but of the point Lucius had raised.
Sirius couldn't believe it. Why was Lucius Malfoy defending him? Did Narcissa put him up for it? Or did the blonde ponce really believe somehow that Sirius was a Death Eater and was trying to protect him? It was blowing Sirius' mind. He shook his head, no it must be to prevent a precedent, that's why, spineless Lucius doesn't want there to be a chance someone like himself could be dragged off without a chance to bribe or coerce his way out.
His mixed memories had blended together more and more now - but both recognized the Malfoy lord as a slimy bottom feeder - always willing to claw himself just one inch higher at someone else's expense. Memories of actual events and of a series of books both agreed.
Dumbledore eventually managed to silence the chamber again, Millicent Bagnold looking like she'd bitten into something rotten as she stared down Wizengamot members, probably counting votes after Lucius equated Sirius treatment to one every pureblood scion might face.
It had likely won him some support - in principle if nothing else. But the dark section of the Wizengamot had never held a majority. And even less so now after the war when they no doubt had to move delicately, especially in open votes like this. Still, some support was better than none.
Sirius made a face beneath the muzzle, he couldn't believe that if he got out of this - he'd owe Malfoy one.
Part of him almost preferred Azkaban. The other… Viciously thought that if he was going to go after the likes of Dumbledore, Lucius would be a useful ally. For as long as it took him to sharpen the knife for his back, of course.
"The chair recognizes the house of Black." Dumbledore said suddenly, and you could hear a pin drop in the chamber, as the entire room turned as one to stare at Arcturus Black. The gray haired patriarch of the Black family stroked his well trimmed beard as he glared down from the Lord's seat. As always cold and distant and seemingly uncaring of the eyes on him.
Sirius met his grandfather's eyes again as the old man stared down at him with an impressive sneer, "As the patriarch of the family, I give my blessing to the ministry to proceed in this matter, as they see fit." He said coldly. And doomed Sirius in one breath. The Blacks were without a doubt the most powerful family in the dark faction. By making a statement like that, he was practically casting him out - withdrawing protection. The families that might have voted for him, due to wanting to avoid a similar case in the future, if nothing else. They would no doubt now stay their hands. They wouldn't want to upset the Black lord when he's cast his judgment after all.
Sirius barely paid attention to the trial, sitting limply in his chains as Dumbledore confirmed he was the secret keeper to the Potter's, as witness after witness was called in to describe his dark and malicious character. You'd think Dumbledore would recuse himself with his obvious involvement in the case.
But of course not, Dumbledore was beyond reproach. Let him control the trial that he himself is testifying in. Nothing to see here, folks!
The character witnesses were mostly friends from back in Gryffindor, colleagues from the Auror corps, and members of the Order of the Phoenix. At least Remus wasn't here, that would have been just the cherry on top of a bloody shite sundae.
Although for all he bloody well knew his trial was being held on the day of the full moon and only that prevented his old friend from spewing hatred at him as well.
He'd never quite liked Remus Lupin from the books, and had found him somewhat of a coward. It jarred somewhat with the memories of a soft spoken, caring, but brave young man. In the end with his absence, he was somewhat ambivalent on his feelings for him.
The farce of a trial continued on. Playing up how comically evil he was. It certainly made him smile, if a dark, gallows humor kind of smile. Why, if they all knew he was so bad all along, didn't they say anything or do anything to stop his obvious rise to evil? The absolute ridiculousness of this trial… Another world, magic at their fingertips - and yet everything was exactly the same.
Oh, his defense tried, as young and inexperienced as he was, and knowing what the Ministry wanted, he still tried, which good oh him, he supposed, although it might give him trouble in the future. He went through a long winded albeit passionate debate with Bagnold on the use of Veritaserum, eventually forcing a vote on whether Sirius would get his say under the truth potion. The Wizengamot, already sick and tired of the trial and having the death of the Potter's and all the destruction brought up again true endless emotional witness testimonials, handily voted it down just to end this all already, and Bagnold triumphantly demanded a final vote of guilt, as Sirius sat, fighting his chains, desperately trying to reach his magic.
Escape wasn't even on his mind, he just wanted to find a way to detonate himself or otherwise die, before they dragged him off again, he could not do another stint in Azkaban - he wouldn't survive until he was so gaunt he'd be able to escape as Padfoot. He'd die within the year. He felt it.
He actually sobbed in relief as the doors slammed open and Moody stepped inside, a rat hanging limply from his hand. Luckily no one was actually paying attention to him anymore, his fate practically done. Saved him the trouble of having to explain his manly tears later.
"Auror Moody! What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Bagnold spat out, visibly annoyed. She sent a glare at the two Aurors who were guarding the door, both who sheepishly looked away.
Sirius didn't blame them at all - they were obviously rookies. How Bagnold expected them to hold off someone like Moody he had no clue. He wouldn't relish trying that, even if he could remember all the magic this body could perform - which he couldn't. If he got out of this he'd have some serious rehabilitation to do, at least two years in Azkaban could explain the memory gaps he'd have and why he couldn't perform all the spells he once had been able to.
"Just found a little bit of evidence I thought might be important…" He said, gravelly, holding the rat up for everyone to see. Moody's eyes met Sirius and there was an apology in there somewhere beneath the anger, guilt and disgust.
Moody had listened. As far as Sirius was concerned he could ask for anything and Sirius would give it. He was bringing salvation. The man was already forgiven for never checking in on him and finding out the truth.
"You brought us a rat? The rumors of your sanity slipping are not exaggerated, I see." Rowan Rosier, a stocky, sandy haired wizard in his fifties heckled loudly from his Wizengamot seat. "Perhaps the Ministry can make use of you to chase down mice stealing cheese from the Ministry cafeteria." He mocked.
Moody's eye narrowed, as the magical one zeroed in on Rosier, on his left arm to be precise, if Sirius wasn't mistaken. "Aye, might be careful there, Rosier, I might just slip in your direction." He made a motion with his wand hand and the Rosier Lord scrambled out of his seat, turning furiously red as he saw a satisfied and smug Moody continue further into the chamber, having faked him out completely. Sirius would have barked in laughter if he wasn't muzzled.
As it was there was a smattering of laughter from the gallery and the Rosier Lord sat back in his seat, enraged and embarrassed.
"Alastor…" Dumbledore said warningly. Watching the old Auror tiredly. "Do you have an actual reason to be here?" He inquired, sounding completely done. Sirius sneered beneath the muzzle, funny how now, he's tired of the proceedings, not when the Minister gave him a baby in diapers as a defense wizard and denied him the use of Veritaserum.
A literal truth potion and Dumbledore saw no issue in letting Bagnold push for its exclusion with the Wizengamot. He could have spoken up, said it's procedure, no one would have gainsaid him. Yet again he'd done nothing.
Moody tossed the rat in the air, firing a spell at it seamlessly, everyone in the chamber watching in shock as Peter Pettigrew slammed into the stone floor, sprawling on all fours, looking around wildly with beady eyes, unable to move - but still conscious.
"I dunno," Moody said casually as can be, "Does finding the supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew - with a dark mark on his arm, mind, have anything to do with Sirius Black's murder case?"
Dumbledore was staring in shock at the revealed Pettigrew, before his eyes widened and his face paled so far it almost matched his beard. Slowly the chief warlock turned in Sirius' direction, eyes pained and filled with sudden realization and guilt.
Sirius stubbornly met the gaze with one of anger and resentment. It was a little too late to come upon epiphany's. If it weren't for Moody he'd be on his way back to the Dementors.
The rest of the chamber was in an uproar, everyone screaming accusations or in some hysterical visitors cases - just screaming. Even the Wizengamot was not left silent at the appearance of Peter Pettigrew.
The accusations from the light side was matched in absolute intent silence, on the other side of the chamber. The Death Eaters and their supporters staring silent murder at the little rat that cost them their lord and victory.
The two most affected in the chamber were Millicent Bagnold and Arcturus Black however.
Sirius watched in pleasure as the Minister paled and sank back from the podium, looking a decade older and ashen faced. There would be no way of silencing him now - and when Sirius could talk … It would not end well for the bitch.
His eyes turned challengingly up to the top seats of the Wizengamot, finding his grandfather yet again. The old man tried to maintain a calm facade, but his eyes were too wide and his posture too stiff - Sirius could easily tell the man was shocked to his core. And by the spreading redness on his face - furious. Now suddenly he was angry that the Ministry had overstepped - another one too late!
"I-I…I R-reiterate my request for my c-client to take Veritaserum!" The young law clerk shouted over the cacophony. Having to repeat himself several times until Dumbledore managed to silence the court and assess his request.
"All those in favor of Sirius Black undergoing Veritaserum questioning?" Dumbledore called out quickly, the lights spreading across the Wizengamot, white for yes, black for no. There were no black lights.
Even those that would rather see him dead - wanted to hear the story now.
There was a brief recess as Veritaserum was called for, and because it had to be triple authenticated by the representative from the department of mysteries. There could be no chances now taken with this trial - the wizarding world was listening.
In the meantime Pettigrew got his own chair to sit in, chained up just as tightly as Sirius. And Sirius finally had his muzzle removed. Working his jaw as he stared at the Wizengamot challengingly. "Hurry up with the Veritaserum already," He barked out, grinning fiercely, "So I can force the truth down the throats of everyone here that tried to sentence an heir of the sacred twenty-eight to Azkaban without cause or allowing him to speak!"
Moody hadn't left the floor and had taken a position next to Sirius' chair. Sirius could feel the silent apology - the old man was watching his back in case someone took matters in their own hands to prevent testimony.
It did actually help. No one would get the drop on old Moody. Sirius definitely had the best guard dog in the building at this moment.
Soon enough three drops were administered and Dumbledore took over the questioning as the Minister seemed incapable of forming words.
"Please give us your name and date of birth." Dumbledore asked first, looking down at his stack of parchments and not meeting Sirius's eyes anymore.
"Sirius Orion Black, the 3rd of November, 1959." Sirius said, feeling numb, the truth serum acting not too unlike an Imperius curse. Having him feel swaddled in contentment as his mouth moved mostly on its own. It was interesting now that he thought of it, that the truth potion only seemed to work for the original memories. Because he certainly could have just as well given another name there…
Food for thought if he could now beat Veritaserum if he concentrated on his other life…
"Were you the secret keeper to James and Lily Potter?"
"No." True for both of his lives, he thought.
Whispers and gasps ran through the chamber as everyone took that in. The confirmation that he did not perform the act he's so heavily despised for.
Dumbledore seemed to age before his eyes as he closed his eyes briefly, before soldiering on. "Do you know who the secret keeper was?"
"Peter Pettigrew, it was my idea, I thought Voldemort would surely come for me, that he'd do anything to capture me and extract the secret, so we'd bluff him out, no one would believe Peter would be chosen as the secret keeper." Sirius revealed in a monotone. The use of Voldemort's names had several shrieks of fear emanate across the visitors gallery.
It took a minute to silence the chamber again as the ire of the crowd turned to Pettigrew - as those who had known Sirius watched in shock and guilt. He could see it on their faces - and honestly, he didn't know if he could forgive them. He wasn't even fully Sirius - more like thirty percent Sirius, 70 percent someone else - with knowledge and a whole other life. Yet the betrayal still somehow stung. Even if it wasn't so much the emotional side anymore as those emotions for the most part were shallow and based on a puzzled together memory. They were getting more dull and distant the less he focused on them. Yet still, somehow, he couldn't let them go.
The cold logical part of him from another world - couldn't stand the betrayal of those he'd risked his life for - or his body's previous owner had in any case. He'd had their backs in war and in many cases saved their lives in battle. And how easily they'd all turned. How many of them had testified here today? Against him.
It's because of them, their complete disregard for him, that he'd been brought into this world into Azkaban - a torture worse then anything he'd imagined.
Even McGonagall had shown up to testify against him. His youthful indiscretions being turned into Death Eater junior stories. The pranks he'd done with the Marauders turned into sole efforts of bullying and cruelty. The Gryffindor head of house taking up half an hour earlier, describing his cruelty that she unfortunately misjudged - all led by a delighted prosecutor in Bagnold.
Only… His one actual malevolent prank on Snape, was not brought up, more to protect Remus than anything done to lessen the blow against him, surely. That he could accept there to be recrimination for. Only that. And yet that wasn't even brought forward. For that alone he could despise his body's original owner. Yet it had been one mistake. Not something to hang an entire life over.
How they'd reorganized their memories to condemn him - his friends, allies, teachers. He took some small pleasures in looking around and seeing the shame-faced members who'd just thrown him under the Hippogriff, and now realized they'd been terribly wrong.
"What happened that day, when you found Peter Pettigrew?" Dumbledore asked, and the chamber became completely silent. Of course now that he'd seen Peter, the great Dumbledore had figured out the events on that day. Always late, never on time.
Even if he wasn't the secret keeper he could still have been responsible for the spell that killed all those muggles, of course. Sirius wondered how many of his 'friends' hoped right now that he was - so they could soothe their guilty conscience.
"I caught up with Peter and he yelled out about me betraying James and Lily, catching me off guard. Before I could cast a spell he cut a finger off and blew the street up, turning into a rat and scurrying off."
More murmurs rose at this, the Wizengamot already having seen the rat - luckily for Sirius, Dumbledore did not pursue that avenue further, which would be revealing his own illegal Animagus form. Perhaps done on purpose by the old man as a way of apology - as surely he'd figured out that if Peter Pettigrew managed to become an Animagus, James and Sirius surely were as well.
No doubt many in the Wizengamot realized much the same - and apparently none had the appetite to call him out on it right now.
"When you were arrested did you go through any questioning at all?" Dumbledore asked next, sounding almost emotional there for a second before he was back to genial old crackpot.
Bagnold immediately jumped up, still ashen faced, "Now see here, Albus! I think we've already found the man to be innocent - there's no need to continue questioning, we should move on to a vote."
"He'll be answering the question, Minister…" Arcturus Black growled, "Go on Albus, continue." The disdain in his voice was clear to all. Now he suddenly cared, apparently.
Fucking old codger.
"You may answer the question now, Heir Black." Dumbledore said softly, completely ignoring the minister, who was wringing her hands, looking for support amongst her allies on the Wizengamot.
She wasn't finding any by the glum look on her face. Sirius took particular pleasure in seeing her career implode. Her swansong into the sunset after having 'won' the war - now tarnished forever.
"I was hauled straight to Azkaban, no questions, no check on my wand, no medical examination." Sirius droned out, and then because the Veritaserum did not control him to the point he couldn't add more truth, he added the kicker. "Then I was given the Dementors kiss at some point of my incarceration - according to the Warden of Azkaban it was done under orders, and the Minister was aware of the kiss."
The chamber erupted, the entire Wizengamot rising up in anger at the idea an heir could be given the kiss without going through the Wizengamot first. The minister did not have the legal right to order the kiss performed at any point. It was the final and last resort punishment for the worst kind of criminal - not even Bellatrix Lestrange had come close to earning the vote for it. Purebloods considered the soul sacrosanct, dying was returning to the family magic - having your soul destroyed was anathema, not something the Wizengamot would have allowed unless the circumstances were dire.
Bagnold had to duck away from several spells, Aurors rushing in to cover her - as some enraged Wizengamot lords let their wands do the talking for them.
A loud deafening bang came from the chief warlock's wand - settling everything down as he glared the room down, bushy eyebrows drawn together in consternation. "Order! This is the Wizengamot, you will act as befitting your station!"
With grumbling and quite a few swear words, the Wizengamot slowly quieted down - members returning to their seats. Dumbledore quietly ordering an aide to give Sirius the antidote for the Veritaserum.
"I think I speak for everyone in this matter when I say that you have suffered a horrible miscarriage of justice, heir Black." Dumbledore spoke softly," His eyes swept across the chamber. "I put before the Wizengamot the vote to exonerate Sirius Black the heir of the most ancient and noble house of Black, of all charges and furthermore stipulate that he is owed restitution by the Ministry of magic - the manner of which can be decided at a later date."
The lights flared up across the Wizengamot, and the chains across his body receded - he was free. The entire chamber had voted for his freedom. Not even those that hated him, or stood by the minister, dared show their vote against him in such a high profile and far reaching trial. Not with his innocence so obviously proven.
Not when it was all being broadcast live over the wireless for everyone to hear. No chance to use the Daily Prophet to lie and cover it up. They'd had no choice but to all go along with it despite personal feelings.
The chains were now gone and Sirius stood up shakily, refusing to let any more weakness be seen then that, he stared straight up ahead at Dumbledore. Waiting for the question he knew would be asked.
The aged warlock sighed deeply, peering around the Wizengamot. "I feel I must ask, for a curious magical world and for future sufferers of the kiss, how is it that you still stand amongst us with your soul intact?" He intoned quietly. Yet it was still heard across the chamber.
Sirius straightened, eyes hardening as he faced the chamber, "Magic itself knew me, it knew me as Heir to the ancient and noble house of Black. It knew me as JUST!" He roared the last part. Face savage as he glared at the gathered watchers, "It knew me as INNOCENT!" His gaze swept over to the gathered lords and ladies of the Wizengamot, "It knew me… As, PURE!" He bit out. His eyes returned to Dumbledore who was looking at him with an evaluating gaze, "Magic found me worthy. And I was PROTECTED!"
Bullshit. But it sure sounded good, didn't it?
Sirius grinned savagely as the chamber exploded in noise, he was going to make most of them regret it when he was through with changing the world.
His eyes glinted as he repeated something of a mantra in his head, the past and the future meeting with the same goal in mind.
I solemnly swear I'm up to no good….
Author's Note:
So…. Sirius Black for Minister Of Magic anyone?
There's always Hogwarts stories in the Harry Potter world. This is an interesting plot bunny I had crawling through my head demanding to be let out. What about writing about the Ministry, the Wizengamot. And the Wizarding World as a whole. Politics and changes and all - not a story focused on children and teenagers.
During a period still ripe for change. The early years after Voldemort. When freed Death Eaters are still tiptoeing and the Ministry is gearing up for a new Minister and requisite changes that follow such.
That's the focus. Hogwarts in the background - mostly important simply because Dumbledore is there.
Ages of people might be changed to whatever suits me as will the fate of several Black's. But other than minor details like that - this will be pretty much the canon world. Except with an OC/SI as Sirius Black mk2.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Courtroom Ten, Ministry of Magic.
He wished he could end the day at this point, and simply say - and thus the trial had ended and Sirius Black got a nice well deserved shower, with a hot meal, ( accompanied by a blonde curvy woman optional, but certainly a welcome and thoughtful bonus.) And no fucks were given and no one bothered him for the rest of the day.
But the day wasn't over yet… And things could never be that easy.
The climax of the trial had been immensely satisfying to Sirius. Especially as he had the front row seat to the very panicked Peter Pettigrew practically pissing himself, (Sirius was going to remember the abbreviation PPPPH for a while… Maybe have it embroidered on a pillow for the lavatory, even.) as the attention was briefly brought onto Peter himself, once everyone calmed down a smidge from finding out Sirius was completely innocent. ( Well… In the legal meaning of the word, perhaps.) The squirrely man's eyes almost bugged out of his head as the visitors gallery started chanting, "KISS, KISS, KISS!" Stomping their feet, the sound reverberating around the chamber. It was deafening and absolutely hurt Sirius's tired head, but oh was it ever satisfying!
Sirius gave out a barking laugh at that chorus, giving the rat a cheery little wave, drawing his attention to him. Peter was pleading with his eyes, his body still frozen in whatever spell Moody had caught him in - as well as completely chained down. Showing once and for all that the traitor really just was that mentally slow - begging Sirius for assistance? Really? He'd have had better luck asking Ol' Voldy himself for a hummer upon joining up, then getting anything from Sirius.
Sirius grinned darkly, drawing a thumb across his jugular, chuckling to himself as the rat's eyes started rolling around in his head - pure fear wafting of him. Sirius might not have received as many benefits in his transformation as Peter had - but he could still smell the stench of a coward just fine - not that he needed a better sense of smell to pick that up from the sniveling little Death Muncher. He was honestly glad that the Wizengamot was unlikely to sentence the little shite to a Dementor's kiss. Suffering in Azkaban would do so much better as proper revenge. Certainly better than the original's attempt to simply kill the man.
That would have been too easy. A too clean end for his absolute betrayal of James and Lily, and his betrayal of Sirius! Oh, and Harry too, he supposed. He had some mixed feelings there, but he'd have to step in, it was only right.
He might have objections to Azkaban's continued existence, partly through experience and partly through being a somewhat decent human who doesn't agree with endless torture, but while it was still there, it would make a nice new home for his old friend.
Yes… As long as the Dementors still existed. Sirius would make sure the rat had a nice stay with them. His hatred for the dark creatures' existence did not preclude him from making use of them - until he could find a way to rid the world of them.
And he would find a way.
He was pragmatic like that. Flexible. Not like these ridiculous light and dark side morons who only worked in absolutes. Who wouldn't step over the line to the other side to get what needed doing, done.
It would be foolish sentiment to not use what was there because you disliked it. Use it, find a way to get rid of it if you could, certainly. But to simply avoid it because it made you uncomfortable - that was the way of a coward.
And Sirius Black had never been a coward.
"C'mon laddie, your part in this is over, let's get you somewhere a bit quieter and have a dram, aye?" Moody said heavily, placing a strong calloused hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Before the vultures swoop down…" The senior Auror growled lowly, both eyes searching the chamber. Sirius followed his gaze to the press gallery, and then to the empty seat which had held his grandfather.
In fact there were several empty seats, those with the sense to realize nothing more would happen at this point, just pageantry. Perhaps it proved the insanity of the Ministry as a whole that only a few seats gaped empty. Those few with common sense or no stomach for pointless bullshit.
He cracked his neck, giving one last hard glare at the sniveling Pettigrew. "Fine, I doubt they'll give me the pleasure of seeing the sentencing of the traitor today anyway…" The Wizengamot did not deal well with change - or decide anything with speed, usually. Nor did anyone in the wizarding world, really. He doubted they'd suddenly opt for it now. He gave one last look at an ashen faced Bagnold trying to desperately babble her way through some sort of excuse with the people from the wireless. With the trial having being broadcast - they'd schedule Pettigrew for another day. No one wanted any more surprises.
No one knew how much Pettigrew knew. Shit, Sirius didn't know how much he knew, how long he'd been a spy... The Death Eaters - sorry, respected members of society, must be shitting themselves right about now. Wondering what could be teased out with some Veritaserum.
Merlin damn it all… Sirius would have to actually protect the shite, or he'd be found to have conveniently hung himself in his cell by morning.
Or conveniently managed to fire a disembowelment curse at himself without a wand…
How many times in his life had he seen it happen? The powerful silencing the only witness. Or indeed, the powerful were suddenly silenced by someone more dangerous, once they were finally caught… To keep the secrets of the rich and famous just that. Secret. He'd seen it in his old world over and over, the sudden suspicious suicide in detention by someone powerful and rich that had finally fallen afoul of the law. Usually fallen with the help of an Equalizer to ensure the evidence didn't just disappear.
And then just dead. No satisfaction nor names to be taken from the useless corpse.
Like anyone believed those instances to be suicide. But at that point the secrets got buried. The powerful and rich moved on to continue their habits. Sacrificing one of their own with no hesitation. It had been a frustrating dance they'd done too many times. The Equalizers seeing witnesses, or their targets - all fall to suicide. Before satisfaction could be brought for the sake of the victims.
Pettigrew had not earned such an easy out. He'd live a long life, paying for his crimes. Sirius would make sure of it.
He didn't know about heaven and hell. But he'd make sure Pettigrew found hell as long as he still drew breath. Not nice. Not by a long shot.
But nice was not a word used to describe him often anyway…
"Better be one hell of a dram, Moody…" He said bitterly, gaze moving along, pretending to not see the old friends and mentors that were staring at him forlornly - like they had suffered for this, like today's revelations hurt them, somehow. They'd made their choices… Abandoned him without compunction. He let himself be led by the shoulder by the experienced Auror. Out of the courtroom and the madness that had overtaken the usually solemn chamber. The shouting visitors gallery cut off at once as they exited into the hallway outside.
Blessed silence finally eased the thrumming in his head. The rage and hate, disgust and sorrow, all of it making a mess of his thoughts. He'd never had a day or an hour even yet, just to think. In peace. Arriving in Azkaban and then straight into that trial…
"Clear the way to Bones office, aye? Instead of standing around gaping like a pair of gormless twits!" Moody barked to the two rookie Aurors that he'd bullied himself past to enter the courtroom. "Anyone who tries to toss as much as a wave in Black's direction you stun first, ask questions a week from now- "Moody's grin pulled awfully on his scars as he stared the rookies down, "- When we can be arsed to let them out of lockup."
"Sir, we have orde-" One of them tried to protest, looking a bit green at the prospect of stunning Ministry employees. Or perhaps it was because they were staring at Moody's grotesque face. Sirius chuckled raspily as the second rookie did look about two seconds away from chucking up his lunch.
"Now yeh have better orders, aye?" Moody growled threateningly, fingers tightening on his wand. The other hand was still on Sirius' shoulder.
Sirius was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he did not have a wand, but everyone they'd meet on the way, would have. As he saw the two rookies wisely decide they were more scared of Moody then any possible employee they'd have to stun, both running off, wands aloft, he spoke up, "Any idea what was done with my wand? Was it snapped?" He asked, trying for casualness, but the tightness to his jaw wouldn't fool a veteran like Moody, especially now that he was cheating with that eye of his.
Sirius kind of wanted one of his own. Did one have to have an eye cursed out first? He wondered.
"Kept as evidence, no doubt." Moody grunted, magical eye on a swivel as he carefully led Sirius forward. Moody took one long distrustful look at the elevator, before tapping a bare stretch of wall next to it with his wand. A stairway shimmering into place. "Senior Ministry personnel use only, Black, so keep mum, aye?" He muttered, before not so gently shoving Sirius in, Moody himself backing in with his wand held aloft - as if expecting a rush of Death Eaters down the hallway.
Knowing Moody, he probably was in fact expecting something like that…
It amused Sirius, because Moody had just sent two wet behind the ears Aurors to clear the way of gawkers up the Ministry - and he was taking a secret way instead. Even old Moody had some pranking in his bones - or was it called hazing when you're a senior Auror?
"I'm great at keeping secrets…" Sirius muttered in response to Moody, squinting up the stairwell, dubiously, "Maybe not so great at stairs, right now." He admitted with a wince. Amusement fading. The reminder of his situation sinking in at the same time as bone deep weariness did.
Moody looked annoyed at that, grunting quietly, and something within Sirius snapped, "Not a lot of time for calinestethics in Azkaban," He spat out, feeling like his vision was darkening at the edges as he put a hand against the wall to help keep himself upright - it felt like everything was tilting, everything wavering for a moment. "The food was absolutely top class! Mind you, I didn't like their steaks much, you see, so I had to make do with the low calorie option." It was like a dam had released and he just couldn't stop, "The fact my extremities were turning blue did put a damper on my exercise routine, must have been something wrong with the room, it did provide first class view of the north sea - all the cold, death and darkness a bloke could desire!" It was hard to breathe, no matter how big of a breath he tried to take it felt like not enough, his chest felt impossibly tight.
Moody let it all wash over him, a grim look on his face. He patted Sirius awkwardly on the shoulder when he finished ranting. Sirius' chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon. "Let it out, Black, the hate and spite and desire for revenge, take it all out on me, laddie. That kind of poison will ruin you faster than Azkaban now." The senior Auror looked surprisingly gentle, even with his terrible scars, as he gave Sirius a shake. "Don't let it ruin yeh, not now, lad. Not now that you've beaten that place." He spat on the ground, frowning, magical eye spinning looking absolutely sickening like that, "You're better than that, Black." He said solemnly. Fingers gripping his shoulder tightly for a moment.
Sirius leaned his head against the wall of the stairwell, catching his breath, "You're not the one that deserves to hear it." He muttered bitterly. There were so many that deserved his bile and hate right now - yet could he afford to dwell on it?
Moody looked like he disagreed, but to Sirius relief did not launch into an apology or argument over guilt. He simply stood there, magical eye searching through the Ministry - as he let Sirius catch his breath and his equilibrium again.
Sirius would have punched the old man if he'd dared to apologize. Like some soft words could erase being damned to a demon infested hell. No… Moody had listened to him. That had been an apology in itself - one Sirius could accept. Action - not platitudes.
And now… He listened to Moody. Took in his words. Really thought about them.
Sirius knew, from his old life, he knew. If he let his disgust and anger over past wrongdoings take over - he'd become something foul. Just like the people he stopped. The ones who let money and power convince them they could take anything - do anything, without consequence. Magic was influenced by the person wielding it. How easily he could fall into the trap of using his hatred, twisting himself without realizing. Until he was that which he hated.
He'd have to… Work on it. Not forget. Never that. But he could not lose himself to hatred. He needed to think clearly. Revenge… As satisfying as breaking Albus too many Merlin damn names Dumbledore's nose would be. That kind of revenge would be pointless.
Fleeting and useless. A child's satisfaction in immediate gratification.
It couldn't match the satisfaction of transforming the wizarding world - kicking and screaming if necessary. Doing a better job than the bastard's ever done - and then ripping him out of his comfortable life, where he has been ruling Hogwarts like his own petty fiefdom. Set the school to rights just like magical Britain - despite Dumbledore - not with him. And see the name Dumbledore exposed for the coward he was. Never willing to do what was needed - prioritizing keeping his own hands clean. Sacrificing those that trust him, but never taking the step himself.
Never sacrificing his own ideals for the sake of the thousands that he practically raised to depend on him!
Not until far into the future, when he'd be needed the most to stand strong, to protect everyone - and then, finally, when he was actually needed the most - then finally the coward escaped it all, sacrificing himself in the most inopportune moment while still managing to ensure his own hands did not bring about Voldemort's or Harry Potter's downfall. Keeping his conscience clean, his hands bloodless.
To Sirius they were already dripping with blood - the old man just didn't see it…
The deaths in the first war… Voldemort and Dumbledore shared blame, as did the Ministry. One for his actions, one for his inaction - the last for its pure uselessness. The second war… Dumbledore was to blame. He refused to reorganize the Ministry when he had the chance - to ensure the world was ready to crush another Death Eater revolt. They'd practically been begging him, or so the books had once said.
He refused to curtail the return of extremists' views at Hogwarts - he did not make any move at all to curtail it in fact. He refused to step in to protect his students. To prepare them. He refused to prepare for the war he knew was coming. And at its climax, left Britain to suffer death, torture and destruction, because he desired a shiny trinket. A chance to talk to a sister long dead - while he'd had no problem sacrificing entire families for the chance to use them - to stun a couple enemies - in a war he didn't have the stomach to fight.
Was there any wonder the Order had so many losses - so few survivors to fight again the second time around? That was on Dumbledore.
They'd been so young and stupid… Trusting in his reputation. When truly what was it? If you looked closely enough… He let millions die in world war two, while he sat at home waffling about dueling his boyfriend… He never changed. Others die so that he can smile from his throne and be benevolent. He could have dueled Grindelwald anytime. Ever since it all started. He could have simply challenged the dark lord. And he would have come.
He would have not refused Dumbledore. They could have kept it contained instead of all out war. But Dumbledore had waffled for years while Europe was on fire!
He waited and let others die until the number became so great - the pressure from society so great - that he finally, reluctantly acted.
And even then, the bastard didn't kill the dark lord.
What if Grindelwald had managed to escape? The disregard for the lives of his victims was staggering.
No… Dumbledore above all others. He was part of the problem more than anything. Full of wishful thinking and hopes - but no action.
Sirius, both of him, becoming more one, for every minute that passed by - were made for actions!
"You're right…. Hatred… I have better things to do. Just… Spell me up the stairs, Moody. You promised me some alcohol." Sirius broke the silence, greasy hair hanging down over his face, hiding his eyes. Burning with determination.
"Aye, lad, that I did…" Silently Sirius was spelled to float gently, the Auror stomping up the stairs - one hand pushing Sirius ahead of him. The clunking of the veteran's wooden leg reverberating across the tiny space.
Within minutes they were out in another hallway. Sirius recognized it as the DMLE, he could see the Auror bullpen in the distance down the hallway. You had to love magic - no way that tiny stairwell brought them this far up the Ministry otherwise, handy that. Moody didn't lead him towards the Aurors however, he took him down a side corridor passing by the Head Aurors office, until they finally reached the office of the head of the DMLE.
The gray and ultimately boring hallways of the Ministry, had always rubbed Sirius the wrong way. Would it kill them to add some color, paintings of something other than some old has-been wizard? A gumball machine would be nice too.
See, already out and about in the Ministry and he already came up with something that would make the Ministry some extra knuts!
A pretty little blonde witch was busy scribbling notes at the desk in front of the office space/waiting room. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in their direction as they came to stand in front of her. Sirius idly noted the wireless in the waiting room, which explained the easier then expected reaction. He also by habit noticed and cataloged the woman's measurements - which were impressive. Part of him was horrified, but distantly amused - that such a thing was an automatic reaction upon seeing a pretty woman.
Sirius Black's reputation truly was earned. His reputation now. How in Merlin's name was there not any little Blacks running around?
He was glad for her placid reaction however. Studying her surreptitiously from beneath his long messy hair. He couldn't wait for the screams of terror when he'd run into the one bloke who hadn't heard about his release at some point when he went out in public. But it was nice to avoid it for now, his head hurt enough as it was.
Also a bad boy reputation always helped with the ladies…
Bloody hell, he wasn't even sure if that was a remnant of Sirius or himself - or both, thinking that. He'd need some time alone again to sort himself out. He thought sourly. The freedom from Azkaban apparently solidified this new confusing existence - with his magic free from its confinement.
"Can I help you, Auror Moody?" The secretary said coolly. Giving the senior Auror a smile absolutely drenched in fake politeness. There was definitely some tension there. And the woman must have been a Slytherin. No one pulled off fake smiles as good as that without being one.
Huh, nice. He didn't fly into a rage just thinking about Slytherin. Good to know.
Still… Best be careful if he ever ran into Snape. He just got out of Azkaban. He didn't need to find himself back in.
"Tell Bonesy to let me in, I know she'll have escaped that circus as soon as possible." Moody growled. "None of that she's not available nonsense," He said as the secretary opened her mouth to viciously deny entry, Moody tapped his still spinning magical eye, "I've seen her, lass."
With a disgusted huff, the pretty blonde witch pushed her chair back and stood up, giving Moody an absolutely scorching glare with deadly amber eyes, before her face softened and she inclined her head slightly in Sirius's direction. Within a moment she was inside the Directors office, a quick knock heralding her entry.
Sirius chuckled raspily, shaking his head,"Did you arrest her boyfriend or something, Moody?" That had been one impressive glare.
Moody scoffed, "All the womenfolk have been acting the same around here lately, "He tapped his eye yet again, "Someone started a rumor that this could see through anything - more specifically clothing, can't even look at a woman without getting the evil eye now, blast it!" He didn't seem overly bothered about it, the magical eye focused on the director's office for a moment.
"Can it? See through anything I mean?" Sirius asked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. If it did… The magical world had horrible privacy laws. Big surprise there.
If it was anyone but Moody… The witches of Britain would have probably already taken care of it.
Moody just gave him a look, refusing to elaborate. Sirius amused himself by examining the small waiting area. Paying particular attention to the cute secretary's desk. A fun little idea rumbling around in his head.
Within another minute she returned, taking a position behind her desk, looking like she could smell something foul - as she addressed Moody, eyes hard. "The director will see you and your guest now, Auror Moody."
Sirius was honestly impressed. To say a title that respectfully and still somehow fill it with so much derision - took some serious skill in communication.
Wonder if Bones will hex me if I hire her away? He thought briefly. Dismissing it right after. It was probably the old dog in him, looking for a leg to hump.
"I thought she might, at that." Moody growled, sounding amused at her continued open dislike. He gave Sirius a nudge to the shoulder to move on along as he fingered his wand, still keeping an eye out.
Sirius gave the cute secretary a charming smile as he passed the desk, somewhat ruined by the whole - no bath for two years' effects - "Blue was definitely the right choice today, sweetheart!" He gave her an exaggerated wink and thumbs up.
The secretary gasped, looking flushed and outraged, covering her bosom as she turned to glare at Moody, nostrils flaring. If she'd had her wand in hand the old Auror might have found himself hexed in the back at that moment.
"What the hell was that, Black?" Moody growled as he gave him a little push to move him towards the office quicker.
Really it was Moody's fault. He shouldn't have left him standing there for more than two minutes. What was he supposed to do? Just stand there and do nothing?
Sirius smirked mirthfully, "Just lending a helping hand," He said sweetly. Barking out a quick laugh at the Aurors unimpressed look. "Look, Moody, she had blue nail polish, her quill had blue highlights, she had a blue coloured coding system for her notes. I took a wild shot in the dark that the lady was wearing something blue for her undergarments today…"
Huh, maybe he was wrong on the whole Slytherin thing - Blue was very Ravenclaw. He wouldn't have pegged her for a raven though…
Moody shook his head, although Sirius could spot the twitch of the scarred man's lips. "That rumor will never die down now, Black." He pointed out with a grumpy huff.
"Was all of it blue though is the question?" Sirius asked innocently, a twinkle in his eyes. His smirk growing. It had been a long time since he'd last seen a pretty lady or had the chance to prank anyone. Apparently some things just were part of you, deep into the bones.
He should probably stop now.
"Ain't none of yer business, Black, you've caused enough trouble, in with yeh, maybe you'll be less of a hassle, drunk." Moody barked, opening the door to the directors office and manhandling him in, shutting it securely behind him.
"Alastor, you better not have come here to drink on duty…" Came the amused voice of Amelia Bones. Sitting behind a mahogany desk, absolutely covered in file folders with a few family photos interspersed amongst them. Sirius felt a twinge of unease. He knew from the books she'd lost practically everyone. And he'd probably end up making her life very difficult if he went ahead with all the ideas percolating in his head.
"Might have." Came Moody's calm reply as he stomped over to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Baffling Sirius as he didn't even check the chair for traps. He must really trust Bones.
Sirius had brought the man a drink once and when he'd seen the old Auror four hours later - he'd been using a runic circle to test the now ice cold coffee.
Apparently every spell in existence showing it was just a coffee hadn't been enough…
Although Sirius and James had entered the Aurors with a certain reputation from Hogwarts. So maybe it was just him.
Sirius gave the director of the DMLE a once over, idly noting the guesstimated measurements, but more taking in the small amount of red still in her graying short cropped hair. The steely and determined eyes. The monocle she hardly needed at her age - but that he had a feeling came from the same place as Moody's eye had.
"Do I meet approval, Heir Black?" She said dryly. Tapping her wand at her desk, the files swiftly moving into several stacks, freeing up the surface. Another tap on the middle of the desk and a secret compartment slid away. A decanter of whiskey and a couple of glasses rising into the air.
Sirius smoothly sank down into the other available chair, smirking slightly, "I guess that depends on if that -" He pointed at her monocle, "Is being used to spy on me in the buff or not." He said gaily.
Moody, who was busy spelling the whiskey into three crystal glasses, almost dropped one, his normal eye turning Sirius way, looking supremely unimpressed.
Amelia Bones raised an eyebrow, giving Sirius a long once over, before sniffing and accepting her tumbler from Moody, "If I was, Heir Black, you'd have already clued in due to the severe disappointment that would have shown on my face." She told him, absolutely blank faced and dry.
Sirius barked out a laugh, leaning back in the chair, taking the glass shoved roughly into his hands by Moody, who glared him down, warningly. "Oh, we'll get along." He said with a sharp grin, "Call me Sirius."
Bones put aside her glass without taking a drink, interweaving her hands in front of her, "You may call me Director Bones, Sirius." She said matter of factly. Moody smirked at him as Sirius pouted in his chair.
Sirius took a slow sip of the whiskey to regain his manly pride. The smoky flavor brought back memories. He felt himself relax just a little in the chair, the pleasant association with alcohol doing more for him then the liquid itself.
Bones let him have his peace, keeping silent for several minutes as Sirius sipped slowly at his whiskey. Both her own and Moody's glasses remained untouched. Sirius would have worried - if it wasn't these two. If anything canon had on them spoke true, however little there was. Poisoning or dosing someone illegally, in a situation like this - was not in their playbook at all.
"So… Why am I here?" Sirius asked finally. Feeling the warmth of the whiskey spreading across his body. Knowing he'd absolutely pay for it later - but finding it worth it in the moment.
"Safety for one." Moody growled. "Reporters and others, would have accosted you lad. Ain't nowhere safer in the Ministry than Bonesy's office."
Sirius knew what he meant by others. Dumbledore and his people. Sirius was not ready to deal with that bundle of headaches. So he could appreciate that.
"I've told you to not call me that, Alastor." Bones said mildly, a threatening flash in her eyes as she slowly turned her head in the senior Aurors direction.
Moody simply scoffed, thumping his leg on the office floor. "Ain't going to change lassie, take it or leave it." He said gruffly.
Bones smiled, softly and without threat. "You're correct of course, Alastor." She said politely. "You are getting up there in age though, aren't you?" She snapped her fingers and a magenta folder flew away from a stack to land directly in front of her, opening up for her. She glanced at it for maybe a millisecond, before looking up at a wary Moody with a saccharine smile. "A stint teaching at the Academy will do you good, don't you agree?"
Sirius chuckled as Moody simply looked straight forward, unimpressed but unwilling to admit he'd walked straight into that one. Sirius saluted Bones with his whiskey glass, "Lovely, absolutely lovely, I'd fall in lust right now if I didn't have one leg already in the grave," He proclaimed grandly, before he tilted his head questiongly, "Now what other reasons did you have for collecting me?"
Bones frowned slightly, straightening her monocle, "For one, I owe you an apo-" She began. She froze in place looking very intense, her gaze directly on his when Sirius held up a hand to stop her - obviously not something she had done to her often. Sirius figured he'd best not tell her that such an intense look was insanely attractive - even for a slightly older witch. He could lose himself in her steely eyes, ahem, where was he?
Ah, yes… the shitshow of another apology from the wrong person. His mood plummeted.
"You weren't head of the department for that shite, Crouch was - and ultimately Bagnold was in charge of everything at the time." He said roughly, holding on to his almost empty whiskey glass tightly. "You were not the investigator nor interrogator, nor were you in charge of Azkaban." Sirius shook his head, a disgusted frown on his face at the greasy strings of hair that would fall down his face at the action, "You didn't know me. You do not get to apologize for the Ministry. You weren't involved nor responsible." The glass shook slightly, and he noticed almost detachedly - that his hands were actually shaking.
Bones exchanged a look with Moody, before seemingly accepting Sirius' position with a deep sigh. "If that is how you feel, I will respect that, I will however be conducting a review of all those contained within Azkaban, to ensure you are not the only case my predecessor fudged." She raised an eyebrow questioningly, "I figured you might like to know that, at least."
Sirius nodded sharply, not trusting his words, but accepting that Bones likely would do just that. A fair woman she had been called, at a time where the Ministry had been anything but.
It did give him some relief, that if anyone in there was innocent like him. They'd be discovered.
There was a knock on the door. Sirius immediately tensed up. Eyes taking in his surroundings, the sparsely decorated office. Not even a rug or a painting in place anywhere. He idly noted there were no faces shown in the large foe glass in the corner, nor were any of the sneakoscopes going into alarm mode. He reddened slightly as he noticed Bones studying him, waiting for him to reassure himself before she allowed anyone entry.
"Go on, better see who it is then." He said resignedly. Expecting Dumbledore or even Bagnold perhaps.
He kept an eye on the door as he noticed Moody casually face his wand in that direction, while looking like he was simply resting one arm over the other. Considering the man could see through the door - you'd think his paranoia would lessen a bit. Unless there truly was someone behind the door to be worried about…
"Enter." Bones barked out authoritatively. Sirius flinched at the noise, before he settled himself, chewing on his lip. He needed to get a hold of himself. This was just getting pathetic.
The pretty secretary from before poked her head in, "Madame Bones, Auror Turpin is here, with the item you requested."
"No need to send him in, I think." Bones mused out loud, looking so determinedly forward and away from him, that she might as well have stared at him pointedly. "Just grab it from him, and thank him for me, Sweetwater."
Her name is Sweetwater? Sirius mouthed, some amusement trickling over his unease. The aforementioned girl noticed, and sent him a small flushed glare, before she dipped out of the office. Returning a minute later. With his wand!
"I had it sent for, from the evidence storage vault. It was the first thing I did after leaving the courtroom." Bones said quietly, "I know now, an apology is not something I can give you. I figured however, that a man that has been without his wand for two years, would feel safer with it returned sooner rather than later…"
Sirius stared longingly at it, as the secretary approached him, a pitying look on her face, (way to make him feel manly, right there) as she held her palm out, his wand across it. Right there.10.5 inches, dogwood with a Peruvian Vipertooth's heartstring. The wand, a light brown color with a rounded black grip - runes visible - etched into the lower half of the wand, tapering off midway through.
He'd been told by Ollivander, that dogwood was a match for a mischievous wizard or witch, and that it had a playful and quirky nature. A wand for excitement and fun, but still capable of performing great feats under tremendous pressure. A fitting wand for him he had thought back then, and ever since. Would it be though? Still. With how he was now? Would it work?
"Take the wand, lad." Moody grumbled, earning himself a scathing look from the pretty Miss Sweetwater.
Sirius hesitantly reached out for it, almost jumping in fright as it seemed the wand almost bounced out of the woman's hands and into his. "Ooohhhh!" He grunted, feeling magic racing through his veins, the wand practically singing to him as it fired off several gushes of pure crystalline magic from the tip, each drawing out a low, oohhh - from him. Sirius jerked to and fro in his seat, mouth open in an almost euphoric state, from having his wand returned. From it accepting him as he was and reconnecting to his magic.
"Well… It works." Bones said wryly, the first hint of an honest smile on her face he'd seen so far. She seemed distinctly amused at his reaction.
"Sorry…" Sirius breathed out deeply, caressing his wand softly with his fingers. "When a bloke gets to handle his wand for the first time in years, in front of two pretty ladies to boot, there's bound to be fireworks." He waggled his eyebrows at the absolutely beet red Miss Sweetwater, who quickly retreated out of the office, the door slamming shut behind her.
"Please don't break my secretary, she's the first competent one I've had." Bones says, definitely showing some amusement. Is that perhaps even a twinkle in her eye?
Sirius still had it! Just a shave and a bath and he'd be right back to wooing the ladies!
"Should have figured you'd make it a spectacle, Black, can't do anything quietly." Moody growled, "That reaction is probably half way through the Ministry already." He complained half heartedly.
Sirius didn't give two damns. He had his wand back. And frankly. That had been a virile and impressive effort, he had nothing to be ashamed about!
"Elsa is trustworthy, Alastor. You'll leave her be, I don't need my secretary harassed because of your paranoia!" Bones said strictly, a sharp warning in her voice.
"Elsa Sweetwater. Ravenclaw? Or Slytherin?" Sirius asked idly. Still stroking his wand. Starting to slump a little in his chair. The safety net of having access to his magic again allowed him to finally let go of some of the tension that had held him up during the trial.
Bones frowned at him, "Don't get any ideas either, Sirius… Elsa is important to my work here, I need her." She finally picked up her tumbler of whiskey and took a sip, eying Sirius with a smug twist to her lips, "It will tickle her pink that you so completely misjudged her though, she's a Gryffindor. Actually only three years below you."
"Huh, I don't remember her…" Sirius said, eyes distant as he tried to pierce the fuzzy veil of the past. His memories were far from full. "Never would have guessed Gryffindor…"
There was silence for a few moments before Sirius got a grip on himself, eyes focused back on fhe head of the DMLE, "Before I manage to forget due to all the excitement today…What's the security going to be like for Pettigrew?"
Bones face immediately shuttered into stony and blank, "Despite what you have gone through," She began stiffly, "The procedures of high value prisoners within the DMLE is not shared lightly," Her monocle glinted menacingly as she narrowed her eyes at him, "Especially to the man who, for all that he's innocent of the crimes he was sent to Azkaban for, was attempting to murder said prisoner, at the time, a fact I have not forgotten."
Moody shook his head, glancing at Sirius briefly, before speaking up, "Cut him some slack, Bonesy. He isn't nosing about for amusement - he's just making sure the shite is getting his, aye?" He grimaced, "Lad was an Auror, one of us…"
Amelia Bones raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "That's Director Bones or boss, Alastor!" She said, with the resigned voice of someone that knew it was pointless, "And who he was, or is, has no matter to sensitive Ministry information, Alastor, and you know it!" she turned an appraising look towards Sirius, who had managed to keep his temper in check, only slightly mullishly glaring back at the director of the DMLE.
Likely due to the nice whiskey and the return of his wand putting him in a decently relaxed mood.
"Details about Peter Pettigrew will not be released to you. No matter how much I sympathize with your situation, I do not allow emotions to guide the execution of law in this country." Bones said forcefully, yet calmly.
Sirius calmed himself, taking a deep breath, before meeting Bones steady look with one of his own, "Fair enough, I can accept that." He admitted, as much as it burned to be talked to like that, he could see where she was coming from, he'd flown off the handle, attempted to murder Pettigrew instead of reporting it, hardly Auror behavior. "I didn't ask to find out any details anyway." He shrugged lightly, a sardonic grin on his face, "Or to get a five minutes alone in his cell kind of deal,"
"Like he'd last five minutes…" Moody muttered distastefully. Drawing another unimpressed look from Bones and a barking laugh from Sirius.
Sirius mockingly saluted the old Auror, "Right you are!" He sobered up immediately though and made eye contact with Bones, "I just want to ensure he actually survives to trial, no doubt a lot of people would prefer his mouth stays shut, permanently." He tried to impress his sincerity on her, he really did only want that.
Bones stared at him silently for a few moments. Then she leaned back slightly in her chair, relaxing just a smidge, "And you what? Did not think that I would realize this and take precautions?" She responded with a wry look, "Are you also going to have suggestions on how I am to get dressed in the morning? Or how to do my hair? I am perfectly capable of performing my job…" She finished with some acerbity.
Moody snorted at that, rolling his eyes, both of them - when Bones turned her eyes on him. Saving Sirius from having to come up with a witty retort to the head of the DMLE basically telling him to shut up and let her do her job.
Especially as he figured it would be politically unwise to tell her that, yes, he didn't trust her to do the job, or the people under her for that matter. And that he'd probably find a way to utilize his family money to ensure the bastard lives - because he couldn't trust.
Merlin did he ever have reasons not to trust.
"Ah, well, just double checking, you understand my interest in the matter." Sirius said with a practiced smile, "I'm sure you have it well in hand."
Bones softened slightly, "He will get the punishment he deserves." She promised.
Sirius twirled his wand childishly, his smile widening when Bones twitched and Moody had to practically grab his arm to prevent himself from jinxing him on reflex. Oh, he loved being a shit disturber.
"Since I am in such illustrious company! I have somewhat of a legal question." He said abruptly. Moody shook his head, muttering something too low to be heard, looking disgruntled still at the twirling wand.
"Is this a hypothetical scenario? Or are you confessing a crime to me?" Bones said dryly, a knowing glint in her eyes.
Of course Bones would have paid attention at the trial… He's honestly surprised she hadn't brought it up yet. Their meeting had been running for a while.
"Purely hypothetical." Sirius assured her grandly. "Like, say someone were to enter the DMLE and confess they achieved an Animagus transformation some time ago," Sirius winked exaggeratedly, drawing another mutter out of Moody, "But that poor bloke plum forgot there was a registry. What's the chap to do in such a situation?"
Bones leaned back in her chair, interlocking her fingers before her, studying Sirius intently, before she slowly spoke, "In such a… Hypothetical scenario… If this person is not - or have ever been, or will be due to the revelation - suspected or connected to a crime for the specific Animagus transformation he or she reveals…" Bones lapses into silence for a few moments, before continuing on. "Then there would be a substantial fine… For their forgetfulness, and they would then be registered, properly."
Sirius nodded along, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, "And if this revelation happened from someone else turning this poor chap in? Or perhaps happened to be force-fed some Veritaserum where they might say such a thing? The punishment?" He asked curiously.
Bones pursed her lips, "Azkaban." She stated succinctly. "Although someone that hypothetically has already unjustly served two years might get off on time served." She finished, looking expectantly at Sirius. An amused twist to her lips.
"Huh, wouldn't you know, that now that I mention all this, it just sort of popped into my head that I happen to be an Animagus. It's funny how these things work." Sirius said affably, grinning at the exasperated Moody and reluctantly amused looking Bones.
"What a coincidence." Bones said starchly, summoning a parchment her way, "For brevity I will assume, for now - that a search of cases over the last decade is not going to have your form all over it…" She looked at him sternly, monocle tight as she got that intense look again, "I assume you're willing to register and pay the fine? Assuming you achieved this around what - sixth year? Seventh year? It would be around 4500 gallons."
Sirius whistled, that was quite the sum if you weren't a Black. No wonder the likes of Rita Skeeter didn't just go and register to get away from blackmail threats from a school girl. Well that and the fact the people she'd performed hit pieces on would have ripped her apart if she gave them that much of an opportunity.
Their meeting was interrupted at that moment as a silvery swan entered the office, swimming almost predatorily through the air. Immediately succeeding in stiffening Sirius' spine. He knew that patronus.
"I know you have him, Bones! Produce my grandson or face the wrath of the Black family!" The swan thundered out in the voice of his grandfather, before fading away into wisps of ethereal smoke.
"Always so polite." Sirius muttered, grimacing at the idea of facing his so-called family. It was necessary of course. So chin up and all that. But they were all so bloody awful!
"Contrary to his beliefs, you don't actually have to listen to him, Sirius." Bones said, an annoyed frown pulling her lips down. The director of the DMLE facade back on her face, any amusement having faded with that patronus. "I do not answer to Arcturus Black." She bit out dangerously, a serious look in her eyes.
Sirius appreciated the sentiment, but if Fudge had been any proof. Her tough, go get em attitude - would fail at some point. The Ministry as it would be a decade from now, could hardly have existed if this Amelia Bones worked at it the entire time. So again… Appreciated. But not something he could trust. At some point she would falter. Become part of the machine. Fair and just of heart, perhaps, but bound by Ministry rules, which were slanted unfairly as a rule.
"No, best I face him now. I doubt my flat is still around. I can't have a much safer place to stay in for now then a Black property." Sirius said shortly, just wanting to get this all over with, tapping his wand against his knee, feeling the stress building again.
"Hardly safe." Moody grunted. Eye distant, his magical eye no doubt searching the Ministry for Arcturus Black this very moment.
Sirius smiled wanly, "I haven't been safe in a very long time, Moody."
"The DMLE is here if you need assistance, you were one of ours, and we failed to protect you. Contact me if you need anything." Bones ordered. And it was an order. She glared at him until he made a sloppy salute, "Good, you will return to finish this registration, although I will provisionally add you under the template - form under review. If you do not pay the fine and register your form in a week… I will have to arrest you." She said sternly, "Moody will take you to your grandfather, I will be in touch, we still have more to discuss." She finished dismissively, files already creeping back onto her desk, inching slowly forward - to all appearances on their own, the secret compartment for alcoholic drinks already closing. One file appeared to slap at it as it did.
Huh, Sirius hadn't even noticed her spell the glass away from him. Moody would be incensed with his lack of constant vigilance if he wasn't so busy searching through the Ministry.
"Found him." Moody said, standing up with obvious reluctance. "Come along then, Black."
I'm sure this will be fun… He thought sarcastically.
Family time always was so. Much. Fun.
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Luckily for Sirius legs, the trip they had to take did not lead them that far away. Taking them back almost to where they'd started - floating down the secret stairwell this time.
Passing by the courtrooms, Sirius realized where his grandfather had holed up. Every one of the ancient and noble houses on the Wizengamot had access to a resplendent office that belonged exclusively to their families. It was some of the most protected spaces in the Ministry, built practically before any of the rest of the building. No one could even pass the threshold without a direct blood relative of the Wizengamot seat holder leading them through it.
And more importantly, no one could cast magic within, except those of the family blood.
Within twenty minutes of leaving the DMLE, they had arrived - Sirius not moving that fast, partly due to tiredness, partly due to apprehension. Between Azkaban and the trial, he hadn't had much time to polish those few thoughts he'd had to himself over the last couple months. Plans on what to do when he got out. Several involved his family - and he was not in ideal condition to deal with them right now.
But as with everything else. What he wanted did not really matter. Only what he could do with the situation he was in. He steeled himself, gave a short nod of goodbye to Moody. And with a glance at the ostentatious family seal on the door - Toujours Pur - he did intend to be always pure. But not likely in the way his family meant it - he opened the door and entered - back straight, eyes hard. He might look like the average homeless person right now - but no one would doubt he could hold the demeanor of a Black.
"Grandfather." He said coldly, slowly walking forward to sink into the solitary chair in front of the massive desk - a family relic from before the Ministry existed. It appeared to be made of thousands of inky black branches interwoven together to make up the desk, the color so dark it resembled dried blood.
Family legend claimed it was crafted by the first Black - and that the branches had drank greedily of actual blood before twisting into shape as they were. But truly, as Sirius had found as a child - even they didn't have records far enough back to confirm or deny such things.
Although for a Black - it seemed plausible.
"Sirius." Arcturus Black said quietly, studying him. Sitting stiffly in the long backed throne like chair behind the desk. A gilded life size portrait of himself behind it on the wall. Waiting for him to die and awaken to give advice to the next Black Lord. Sirius had always found that so pretentious before he'd run away.
Now with other thoughts to add to his pool of memories, he could see the man despairing over where the family was going - and that he was trying to find a way to still lead them after death, influencing them through canvas. As a mere memory. Anything to keep the family intact.
Well… Almost everything… As Sirius and Andromeda had found out the hard way. Yet this was what he had counted on when he hatched his so far loose plan.
Arcturus Black desperately needed Sirius.
Whereas Sirius had other options. As distasteful it would be to use Dumbledore for assistance. If he had to. He would.
"You've really spruced up the place, I see." Sirius finally drawled sarcastically, having had a long day and not wanting to wait through pointless posturing and power moves. Of course the office in no way was spruced up. Except for the desk, chairs and painting. It was empty. The nemean lion rug, gone. The family banner of their old enemy - ironically the Whites. A family that the Black family had eradicated over a thousand years ago - gone. Even the wand of the first Black, that had been on a crystal pedestal so warded that even family members that weren't the Lord would die if they touched it - gone.
The old man had really been packing everything up it seemed. Just waiting to die in resignation and shame.
Good.
Arcturus Black took his time to answer. Just studying Sirius quietly. Stroking his beard, thoughtfully. Finally, when Sirius was seconds away from making a fart joke just because, he spoke, "I would not have imagined I would ever see you again. Free. Alive. Sane." He said slowly.
Sirius sneered, casually leaning one leg over his knee, "You saw me just fine at the trial, grandfather. "He mocked, "What was it? Ah, yes… Do what you wish with him!"
And really. Sane was debatable.
Arcturus pursed his lips, "A regrettable error." He admitted. Quirking an eyebrow incredulously when Sirius snorted, "Boy, for all intents and purposes you were guilty, and supporting you would just have continued this family's deterioration."
"Must have been some other cranky old man that kept shouting family first and family always at me," Sirius quipped sarcastically.
"You left the family!" Arcturus thundered suddenly, slapping the handrest of his throne harshly. His eyes irate and almost sparking with anger, *You abandoned the family - you do not get to sit in judgment now!"
Sirius simply laid his head back against the headrest of his chair, a darkly amused smile on his lips, studying his irate grandfather. "Left did I? You really don't have any idea what goes on in the family at all, do you?"
Arcturus scoffed, "You can hardly pretend now that you did not run away, boy. The disgrace we faced when society found out you were living with Fleamont Potter…" The Black Lord huffed angrily, shaking his head. "You have no idea how you damaged this family…"
Sirius actually threw his head back and laughed at that. The laughter echoed loudly in the almost empty office. "Damaged the family?" He managed to chuckle out, before settling himself, glaring coldly at his grandfather. "Who exactly led the family when Andromeda was kicked out? When Cissy got sold away to a Death Eater pretty boy? When Bella tainted the name worse than anyone has in the last two centuries? Who hitched their wagon to a half-blood born from a squib and a muggle? Destroying the family in a war that only succeeded at wiping out pureblood families? When perfect little Regulus did what was expected and joined up with the little murder club and ended up dead?"
For each successive point, Arcturus Black grew whiter in the face, eyes flashing with anger, but he didn't refute it. Any of it. Sirius smiled viciously, "Who led the family when my darling mother used the Cruciatus curse on me - forcing me to flee the family to save myself." He hissed out, watching in satisfaction as Arcturus eyes widened at that tidbit. The Black Lord actually stood up in a rage, the throne-like chair groaning in protest as it's pushed back over the stone floor.
"Walburga did WHAT!?" Arcturus roared, spittle flying as he stared Sirius down, looking for any lie.
Sirius just smirked coldly. Taking in the absolute defeat that sunk into his grandfather's face when the old man realized he spoke the truth. This was so extremely satisfying. Everything he'd always wanted to lay at the man's feet. His absolutely boneheaded decision to let everyone choose a side instead of simply ordering the family to stay out of it - or join the side not run by a megalomaniac.
Arcturus sunk back into his chair, holding a trembling hand to his face, "Don't mistake this as weakness, boy. I am enraged." The Black Lord pushed out through gritted teeth. "Walburga had no right!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, "Merlin forbid a Black was ever weak…" He raised an eyebrow sardonically, "Perhaps I should have just endured the Cruciatus, grandfather? End up like what dear Bella did to the Longbottoms?"
"No… As distasteful as it is, you did the right thing escaping that situation." Arcturus breathed out, looking pained to even be admitting that. "You could have sent me an owl," He finished sourly.
Sirius didn't even dignify that with a reply. Just staring at his grandfather.
Eventually Arcturus gave up on that avenue, muttering, "Merlin I need a drink," Rubbing his forehead tiredly," You've always been a headache, Sirius." He admitted, "But damn it all if you're not also the only one strong enough to carry the bloody name!" He groused, face turning dark and moody.
Sirius raised an eyebrow but didn't speak, he hadn't expected such an early declaration, his grandfather must truly be desperate. Speaking held no advantage yet. So he held his silence and waited. Lounging casually in his chair, the opposite of the dark and sour old man sitting across from him.
"Is it really true… He was born from a squib and a muggle?" Arcturus eventually asked. Looking sick and pale. "Did we really foul it up that badly?"
Sirius cocked his head, studying his grandfather for a moment. "It's true. He came from the Gaunts. Inbred as they were." He was beginning to tire considerably, but he was wary of how easily his grandfather was accepting things without much of an argument. He had yet to ask how Sirius knew.
"Circe's cunt!" Arcturus swore, drawing a chuckle out of Sirius, who remembered the many lessons from the Black Lord where he'd said a civilized man never swore - only apes lacked the civility and ability to craft suitable insults or words to denigrate someone - or express yourself properly, without being crude.
"We can discuss everything in more depth later, grandfather." Sirius said seriously, (Hah!) "For now, I need the protections of the family home. I need to recuperate." He allowed some of his exhaustion to the fore. His grandfather's face turned more solemn and understanding.
"Of course, Sirius. We can discuss the family and the particulars of where we go from here after you've recovered." He allowed, even managing a small welcoming smile. "I realize it is probably not worth much from me, and dreadfully late. But I was… Saddened, when I heard of your incarceration. I had still hoped for a reconciliation one day."
"Hold your Hippogriffs, I have demands." Sirius said tersely. Completely ignoring the sort of apology, he wasn't interested.
Arcturus sighed, but nodded his head in acceptance. "Understandable under the circumstances."
"One. My mother is not to come anywhere near me." Sirius said harshly, Arcturus nodding, a furious look flashing in his eyes that would no doubt mean nothing good for his dear old mum when the Black Lord returned. "Two. You will arrange for the best healers and potions money can buy - to get me on my feet again as soon as possible."
Arcturus looked offended at that, "Sirius these aren't even requests, those things will of course be done, for your safety and health, regardless if you had requested it or not. I am not beyond cruel."
Sirius shook his head slowly, eyes cold as a glacier. "Wait until my last request before you act so cavalier, grandfather."
Arcturus sighed, "Well then, Sirius. What is it?" He asked impatiently.
"I will not step foot in a black property for the rest of my life, unless I am its Lord." Sirius stated coldly. Drawing a sharp breath from his grandfather. "I will leave here right now and seek succor with Dumbledore if I have to…"
He met his grandfather's eyes, showing his burning determination and indomitable will. "The Black family can have me as its Lord."
"Or not at all."
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Authors note:
Dumbledore isn't the cackling evil schemer of most fanfiction, so he does actually have the common sense to not approach Sirius right after the trial. As stated, SI's very bad impression of Dumbledore is based on a lot of fanon - and the real failure with Sirius stint in Azkaban.
Lots of Black family shenanigans to look forward to, and of course Dumbledore at some point.
Warning that Kreacher's story is part of this chapter, and I really didn't change overly much, I felt it was needed even if most of everyone reading this knows it. Kreacher will be around a lot after all and his switch of loyalties shouldn't just be a blurb of - and so now he was loyal.
The lovely Black family makes an appearance, hopefully I didn't forget anyone!
Hopefully I won't disappoint! Enjoy the chapter!
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
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"Home sweet home…" Sirius muttered with distaste, looking up at 12 Grimmauld Place, the dark and foreboding building holding mostly unpleasant memories at this point. The Dementors carving out what positive memories he'd held of childhood. He stood, uncaring about the heavy rain soaking him through, running in rivulets down his face, almost giving the appearance of tears. The British weather had come to strike again, how he'd missed it for the past two years…. He could cast a spell and make himself impervious to the rain - but why bother? This homecoming certainly felt like it deserved the gravitas of standing solemnly in the rain.
"This is ridiculous. The door is right there." Arcturus Black muttered, standing by Sirius' side, not a drop touching his expensive and well tailored robes. The old man leaning forward on his goblin silver tipped cane, both wrinkled hands grasped tightly on-top the snake motif handle with ruby eyes. "This is your house now, must we loiter outside like this…" Arcturus drawn face twitched slightly, "Lord… Black…" he beseeched, and oh, Sirius enjoyed just how much that cost the old man to force out between clenched teeth.
Sirius raised his right hand idly, gazing upon the Lord's ring that now adorned his finger. The pure black metal - so dark it seemed to repel light - some kind of alchemy created alloy lost to history - upon which the Black family crest stood out clearly, and ostentatiously, with tiny gemstones dotted around it - suited him well. "Yes… He said quietly. "Lord Black desires to loiter."
Arcturus controlled himself with nary a sign of his frustration, showing there was still some of the man left that had been a political mastermind in his youth. His face shuttered into a polite facade, as he waited in the London rain next to Sirius. Like he'd chosen to stand here for his own reasons. Purebloods and their silly ideas about what constitutes politeness. In his position Sirius would have just gone on and dealt with the consequences if any.
Some men were just made to serve. He supposed. And some were made to lead.
Sirius clenched his fist, feeling the heavy ring on his finger - the weight it carried. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, listening to the rain smattering down - muggles moving quickly through the deluge, not aware of the two men standing before a building they did not know existed.
Becoming the head of a family was not simply a matter of legality. In a family like the Blacks it held so much more. A direct line to the family magic, dominion over the wards of the Black properties. To a limited extent - even control over those within the family. Sirius flexed his fingers, this ring… He now held the power to force his mother to shut her mouth. The magic inherent in the family magic, the ring, and the wards of the property would make her obey. Even force her own magic into obeisance as long as she was under Black wards.
Quite useless if one weren't living in a Black property however. This was the real world, not a silly story. So there weren't any fantastical powers inherent in a Lord's ring. No instant Occlumency, no fantastic abilities or collection of spells. Once bonded in blood to its Lord. The ring simply was the conduit between Lord and the family magic and wards. Sirius could taste it. If he concentrated enough. Centuries of history and magic. And he now controlled access to it. Controlling the family might be easier than he'd expected.
Family magic was misunderstood by those who didn't have it. It wasn't a repository of ancient family only spells - although there certainly were spells created by family members hidden from the general public, but they had limited use, as once in play, they would doubtlessly be copied by someone clever enough. Spells weren't beholden to a family like he'd encountered in fiction so many times. No, family magic was simply the accumulation of magic through blood, in the wards, artifacts and their own flesh and blood for generations. Family magic was by family, for family and only family. There was some minor truth to all the pureblood movement nonsense - only minorly. Creating a half-blood after all didn't remove the family magic. Which was known amongst the families, they just didn't want to acknowledge it.
"I suppose, it's time… You've ensured my dear mother is away?" Sirius asked his grandfather, walking towards the door with surety, now that his decision was made. Any hesitation shredded, left to wither in the past. He's the Black Lord now. Anathema to the original Sirius, but he found that this him, quite liked the idea of complete and total control over a bunch of rich bigots.
Arcturus followed him, his gaze boring into Sirius' skull from behind, "I sent her to the holiday home in the south of France. You'll have your week, as promised." He muttered.
In the end, it hadn't been difficult to force his grandfather's hand. Arcturus Black truly was desperate. Sirius was the only choice for the family's survival, so whatever plan the old man had been ruminating on - to lead Sirius in the right direction, with vague promises of headship. He'd been forced to abandon them at the prospect of losing Sirius. Sirius hadn't been bluffing. He'd truly go at it alone rather than face returning to the family under the control of someone like Arcturus. Too old and too hidebound to understand the reality of their world and the muggle one. To set in his ways to adapt. No… Sirius would rule them - or he would disavow them. Once his grandfather understood this - matters had proceeded quickly.
The door to Grimmauld place opened on its own when Sirius raised his hand to it, a flare of family magic recognizing the Lord, the dreary insides revealed, not yet in the state of disrepair it would have been in a decade from now, but still unbearably gloomy and depressing. He stepped through, feeling the wards settling around him, the powerful blood magic invigorating him, making him shudder, it was not unlike a magical high of sorts, (Not that he'd ever admit to having tried magical drugs, definitely not in his sixth year, and seventh, and that one time with James when Lily was very very pregnant and moody.) It might be almost completely abolished now by the Ministry, but once, the Black's had been the premier practitioners of blood magic. It's why they never suffered an attack at home, either through Grindelwald or Voldemort or the lords preceding them. As long as there was a Black Lord, sanctuary would be had for all Blacks. The strength of the wards made an attack on the family an effort in futility. Voldemort had courted the Black's, because he couldn't as easily threaten them - they could just turtle up, safe in their homes if that happened. All things a young Sirius had been forced to learn, and that family history would be useful to him now. The family magic under his direction, the family under his direction. For the greater good.
Perhaps this is how in canon all of the Black's ended up dead by the time Prisoner of Azkaban happened. Picked off one by one - the family magic not supporting them as strongly without a strong head - Arcturus likely faltering even further. The wards slowly weakened, their enemies circling, taking their opportunity. Malfoy had a potential black heir in his son, potential benefactor of the family fortune - Sirius certainly wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate a situation where the rest of the Black's had terrible accidents, or went in their sleep, before their time - everyone knew Black's die young after all… Well young for Wizards and Witches anyway.
With a crack, Kreacher appeared before him as Sirius stepped by the troll leg umbrella stand - hideous decor, really. It's like they'd been ruled by edgy teenagers their entire existence. Sirius could appreciate a certain dark aesthetic, but they took it to a frankly ugly and comical degree. "Kreacher, do not speak without my permission, do not leave to speak to another member of the Black family without my express permission, do not leave this property at all, do not sabotage me or mine, clean this house properly, and one day your head might join the others." He snapped off, before the house elf got a chance to start grumbling.
Kreacher mulled that over, a rebellious look on his face, eyes almost bugging out of his head as he tried to think of a way to spit vitriol at the unfavored son of the house - returned as its Lord. Eventually disappearing with a crack, unable to find a way to say something venomous. Sirius would have to gain the creature's loyalty as soon as possible, there would always be loopholes in his orders if the elf was determined to betray him. He didn't have the patience to draw up a list of a thousand things the elf would not be allowed to do to inconvenience him, and if Dobby was any indication, an elf could go to extreme lengths in disobeying a master if they really wanted to.
And Kreacher really wanted to disobey Sirius.
"I never liked that elf." Arcturus muttered sourly, coming to stand next to Sirius. "As requested, a world renowned healer is scheduled to arrive in the morning," He grouched, he'd been bitching about the price all the way home. For someone so proud in the family fortune, he was remarkably cheap. He eyed Sirius carefully, eyes assessing, "You'll have to let her through the wards, although I might suggest allowing a temporary exception, only. Many would still wish for your death."
"I'll figure it out, grandfather, thank you." Sirius said dryly, not willing to get through any kind of lesson with the old man, not this early in the game, he'd need to prove his independence first. The house had a massive library and a multitude of portraits of ancestors for a reason. He wondered briefly how many of those wishing death upon him would belong to his loving family, his mother for sure, but who else? "That will be all." He finished, making a gesture towards the front door. Dismissing Arcturus, as Sirius himself headed for the stairs.
"Lord Black." Arcturus muttered, a begrudging look on his face, before swirling on the spot and exiting through the still open door, apparating away the second he was outside the wards, the door slamming shut on its own as soon as the old man left.
Merlin this place even smelt off, like they'd entombed their enemies in the walls or something. Which… Was a possibility with his family. He should probably get that checked.
Sirius eyed his surroundings with distaste as he headed upstairs, he'd need to get this place completely redecorated anyway. He couldn't embark on a political career and have anyone come over and see… He grimaced at the house elf heads decorating the wall of the stairway. That!
But first, before everything else, before even sleep…
A bath!
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The next few days were extremely busy for Sirius. Even with a bath and grooming taken care of, he still looked sickly and gaunt. The healer had done what she could, and Sirius certainly felt more energetic after. Even surviving the healer with the bedside manner of a troll, with aplomb. He'd even been kind enough to refrain from flirting. Although it might have to do with the prospect of her deciding to use her mannish hands for an impromptu prostate exam if he annoyed her enough.
Not that Sirius was necessarily against that in a more romantic setting.
He was also now on a regiment of potions worth thousands of galleons, for organ repair, system cleansing, rejuvenation of his skin, amongst many many more utilities, and instructed to take in over 5000 calories a day to go with it. It took him several dozens of orders before he managed to force Kreacher into cooking a meal to his standards, somewhat - without somehow flubbing it on purpose, or doing such things as substituting shampoo instead of milk into the pancake batter. A fine prank, Sirius would have thought, if it was anyone but Kreacher doing it - and anyone but him being the recipient. The little elf was just entirely unpleasant. Quite frankly if the little blighters weren't so ridiculously useful, he might have just gotten rid of him.
It's why he quickly decided to deal with Kreacher now, today, even with the thousands of things he needed to get done, answering the requests for interviews, the owls from the Ministry, sending out the invite to all Black family members to gather under his roof at the end of the week, find a way to to see Andromeda and convince her to rejoin this pack of insane blood purists and etc for eternity. It had been three days of having to watch every word he said, so the elf couldn't interpret it in a way to screw him over - it was enough. It needed to be dealt with, now.
Either that or he'd be forced to kill him just to ensure his safety.
He folded the Daily Prophet, still now, three days later, every headline screamed about his trial and the consequences that lay therein. Something akin to a witch hunt had begun in regards to the foul Peter Pettigrew, people crawling out of the woodwork to give interviews on how they'd always known there was something wrong with him. Sirius snorted with disgust, tossing the paper onto the kitchen table, those same people were likely the same who held teary eyed eulogies for the hero Peter Pettigrew two years ago, and talked about how they'd always known he was a good and just man. The fickleness of wizards and witches made him sick.
Of course the paper was always asking the constant questions on what would happen with the boy-who-lived. Dumbledore, uncharacteristically for him, was completely silent. He hadn't been heard from by the Ministry, the Prophet, or sent a single missive to Sirius, for that matter. It somehow irked him, he didn't want to speak to the old man, not at all. But his silence was speaking loud and clear in itself. He was either a coward, refusing to face his own mistakes. Or he had some plot brewing, taking steps to protect Harry Potter from undue influence, and didn't have time to speak with anyone. Avoiding Sirius so that he could not enquire about his godson.
A valid tactic since Sirius certainly wasn't going to approach the man.
Sirius didn't particularly know anything about raising a kid, and part of him definitely did not want anything to do with it. But his memories spoke of a deep seated love for the boy, and frankly the part of him that disliked him - very much liked the PR benefit being the godfather and guardian of the boy-who-lived would bring. Yet, he still had much to do before he could lock horns with Dumbledore on that particular issue. Well, even if he probably was far from the perfect guardian for the kid, he could hardly be worse then where he was now. And Black family wards would do a hell of a lot better protecting him then just living in an obscure muggle neighborhood would. Sirius could think of a hundred ways to Imperio a muggle or a dozen into destroying the home and never ding those blood wards at private drive at all.
"Kreacher, attend." He called out sharply, having made up his mind. Moving his thoughts away from the many many issues that lay before him, to concentrate on the most pressing one. Best get this out of the way now.
With a crack the surly elf appeared before him, glaring balefully at him. Going so far as to hold his hands over his scrawny mouth to prevent himself from talking. The wrinkly being barely dressed in a filthy pillowcase that just annoyed Sirius. What was it with bigots and having to brag about how much they could out-douche each other? A proper uniform for a servant shouldn't be too much to ask, have the elf make it themselves if the clothes issue is the problem. He silently decided to ensure Kreacher got a proper uniform and quarters after this, as much as he disliked the elf on sight, he was not going to become one of those rich ponces, that he'd had to equalize, those with no regard for their servants or anyone below them.
If he could treat Kreacher with some measure of respect - perhaps he could keep himself grounded.
Sirius took a deep breath. Grasping his wand, he could do this, he'd practiced in the attic, on some of the hapless magical creatures that infested it over the last few days, while his body wasn't up to strength yet, his magic seemed as strong as ever. Even buoyed by the family magic and its invigorating effect - the strengthening potions not hurting either. He was an adult wizard. Surely it wouldn't take a hold of him like it had the young teens, he couldn't even open it after all. "Kreacher, bring me the locket. The one Regulus died to destroy." He ordered tersely. Steeling himself, wand held ready.
Kreacher's eyes widened in shock, but he popped away, returning in seconds, holding Slytherin's locket, looking reluctant to let it go. Sirius motioned for the elf to put it on the kitchen table, and he obeyed, his long ears twitching as he stared between his master and the locket. The elf almost spastic as he tried to reach for the locket, yet not, at the same time.
Sirius eyed it with distaste, perhaps this as well had attributed to the downfall of the family, this pure evil infesting their home. Dark magic had costs - pure black magic - cost everything. Just being around it made Sirius feel unclean. Having that inside the wards… He had no idea how that could affect them, soul magic was not something a good little Gryffindor dabbled in.
They probably had a book on it somewhere. Black's had dabbled in everything.
"Kreacher, on this subject you may speak, tell me of Regulus' last order, tell me what happened." He said quietly, not able to show compassion for the elf right now, he had too many bad memories of this elf being involved in his mother's torture of him. But while he couldn't forgive, he could at least absolve the creature of its guilt, and turn him into a useful vassal - instead of the wretch he currently was. He'd been loyal to the end, he deserved better than this existence, even if Sirius could never come to like him.
Kreacher wrung his hands together, tears appearing in his bulbous eyes as he began, haltingly, to speak. Still staring in disbelief at Sirius, eyes periodically flickering to the locket laying on the kitchen table. There was still hate in that gaze, but also wonder.
"When he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…" Kreacher spoke, a crooked sad smile on his wrinkly face. "And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said…He said…" The old elf began rocking in place, keening sadly. "He said that the Dark Lord required an elf. Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher."
Sirius sighed, "More the fool him," He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, seeing Kreacher's immediate mullish look, "I know, I know, master Regulus is the best, how dare I? Etc, etc, continue, please, Kreacher." He said irritably, trying to drag up from his memories - the image of his younger brother, before he was ruined by his mother - with no success. He sagged in the chair, listening to a story he already knew, but nonetheless horrified by the evil in it.
"It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do… And then to c-come home." Kreacher shook where he stood, his ears twitching sadly, his breath coming out in small ugly sobs.
Sirius sat in silence, head bowed, as he continued to listen to Kreacher mourn, the elf eventually gathering himself enough to continue.
"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord." Kreacher whispered, voice wavering." The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake…With an island in the middle. There was a boat, there was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it."The elf quaked from head to foot, shivering madly as he retold one of his, no doubt, worst memories. With one worse yet to come.
"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible things. Kreacher's insides burned…" Kreacher covered his face with his hands, shaking his head madly, ears flipping around as he continued in a broken voice. "Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed." Kreacher pulled on the wrinkles on his face in distress, stretching the skin, fat drops of tears spilling onto the kitchen floor as he continued, perhaps also using it as a means to punish himself, Sirius let it go, this time. "He made Kreacher drink all the potion. He dropped a locket into the empty basin…He filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island…" Kreacher trailed off, staring down at the floor in silence.
How easy it was for Sirius to picture it. He might not hold much love for the elf, but he could feel pity and sadness for the suffering he'd gone through. The casual cruelty inherent in Voldemort went beyond mere cruelty. Grindelwald might have been a Dark Lord. But Voldemort was a blight on magic itself. He waved for the elf to continue, the sooner they got past this, the sooner there was a chance for the elf to get some closure. To complete Regulus last order.
"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface. Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back, so he did." Kreacher said sadly.
"Like a loyal elf." Sirius offered quietly, although he was unsure if Kreacher even heard him, the elf staring ahead, unseeing, as he continued on. Sirius battled within, feeling a confusing mix of self loathing and anger at himself for feeling it. He had a right to hate the elf, what with their history, but he also felt for him, the elf loved his brother. He would have died for him with a smile on his face. Part of him would have been happier to just kill the elf and never having to face the dichotomy of feelings for the creature.
"Master Regulus was worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then… It was a little while later… Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind…Kreacher could tell…" Kreacher shuddered, eyes wide and afraid, "And he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. And he ordered Kreacher to leave - without him. And he told Kreacher to go home and never to tell my Mistress what he had done, but to destroy the first locket. And he drank - all the potion - and Kreacher swapped the lockets and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water…." Kreacher let out a wail, suffering through the memory again, the little elf's heartbreak clear to see.
"Voldemort is pure evil, Kreacher. You could not destroy his locket on your own. But I can." Sirius said, standing up. He eyed the locket. He could not open it - he was no snake speaker. But the killing curse should affect the locket and it's imbued soul, whether it was opened or not. It was a spell specifically meant to bring death, to cut away the soul, pure death magic. It should work.
Or so he hoped. He really didn't relish the idea of gaining custody of the boy-who-lived and then have a toddler open a horcrux, being the only available parselmouth. Really wouldn't scream responsible guardian, at all. Even Dumbledore waited until 11 to really begin fucking Harry over more then some neglectful muggles. And casting Fiendfyre was out of the question, he'd need time to get back into form, and even then he'd hesitate to let loose hellfire.
There was of course the option of basilisk venom - but beyond being frightfully rare, (try impossible to get ahold of) There was the fact that the only sure source resided under Hogwarts. Dumbledore's domain. He'd not be sneaking in to kill any Basilisks without being in top form either - and certainly not until he's found a way to completely insulate himself from Dumbeldore's machinations. Being caught sneaking into Hogwarts so soon after his release would ruin his reputation - no matter if the reason was benign.
No… This was the only way… Or he could apply to be the new DADA professor…
No, this was definitely the way.
Sirius steeled himself, calling up the hatred he'd always held close to his heart, for the Death Eaters, Voldemort and his dear Mother. For the rich and privileged, the system that sustained them, the ones in power using those beneath them until there's nothing left. He pointed his wand towards the locket. "Avada Kedavra!" A bolt of death magic, sickly green and foul, left his wand and struck the locket. An otherworldly wail was suddenly heard in the kitchen, an acrid smell filling the room as the locket melted slightly, a cloud of smoke vaguely holding a face appearing for a second in the air above the kitchen table, before it dispersed. Sirius shivered as he felt the family magic in the wards viciously tear into something, Slytherin's locket apparently having protected the soul from the blood magic of the Black's. He was too new at this, hadn't had a chance to study the wards much yet, other than on how to give temporary access, but he knew, the soul fragment was without a doubt no more.
Sirius slumped down in his chair, "It is done, Kreacher, you've served the Black family and Master Regulus well. The locket is yours to do with as you will, in Regulus' memory, you may use his room as your own henceforth as well." He ran a trembling hand down his face. "And you're not allowed to punish yourself anymore, unless I order it. Only me." He added belatedly, feeling drained.
Kreacher slowly snapped up the locket, disbelieving eyes staring at it and then at him, before the elf bowed low, and disappeared with a crack.
"Well at least I shouldn't taste shampoo in my pancakes any longer." Sirius muttered. Feeling wrung out. The killing curse was not as easy on a real target, compared to minor household pests. Even if the locket hadn't fought back, not having been opened, it had still held a presence, one that had assailed Sirius mind the second the death curse was uttered. It had been too late. But it left Sirius exhausted. Even if the wards had immediately intervened and ripped through whatever was left, he still wasn't even a week out of Azkaban yet.
He gingerly stood up from the table, and left the kitchen. His tasks could wait, he needed a rest.
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Next morning he sat down at the kitchen table, staring down at his full English breakfast on ridiculously fine silverware, a diamond encrusted candelabra taken out of storage and polished until it sparkled was filling the room with a pleasant aroma from its magically treated candles - specifically made to ensure relaxation. Sirius didn't even know they had any of those. "Kreacher…" He said slowly, surreptitiously hitting the food with a detection spell, just in case, ".... Good job." He finished awkwardly, looking down at the surly elf that was nervously gazing up at him.
Kreacher squirmed in place and Sirius realized he was still under an order not to speak, "I rescind every previous order to you Kreacher, except for the order in regards to your new room and rule on punishment, or contacting anyone else without my permission." He said, digging into the perfectly prepared traditional English breakfast. No need to give him too loose of a leash, loyalty can change.
"Kreacher thanks bloodtr-master, Kreacher will do as master says." Kreacher mumbled, bowing low. He was about to pop away but Sirius raised a hand, bidding him to stop, chewing his sausage slowly.
"As the highest servant of the Black family, you need to look the part." Sirius declared, noting with pleased surprise that the elf had even managed to make his coffee perfectly, even though his penchant for the drink had come with this reborn life. Sirius looked down at the suspicious looking elf. "If I order you to make a uniform for yourself, it will not count as giving you clothes." He was half ordering, half asking.
Kreacher squinted at him, shuffling his feet, "No master, won't count as clothes." He muttered uncomfortably.
Sirius waved his wand, concentrating, managing to project an illusion of a butler's uniform, going through several iterations in front of his skeptical servant. "How you look and act reflects on the house of Black, Kreacher." Sirius said sternly, "You are the first line of contact, you will not make the family look bad." He pressed. Knowing this would ensure the elf listened.
Sure enough, Kreacher looked horrified at the possibility of him ruining the family's reputation. A white lie, since Kreacher could likely be in a batman costume and most purebloods wouldn't even notice, beyond tossing their coats at the elf's general direction.
"Pick one, make it, or have it made by a tailor, use Black family funds, I know you have access." Sirius said, closing his eyes in pleasure as the hit of caffeine entered his system. Was there a better thing than coffee? He might be considered a race traitor to the British for it, but oh it was so worth it. "Oh, make sure the Black family crest is prominent on the chest. You serve me, it will be made clear, you will make the Black family proud, Kreacher." Sirius looked down at the elf, sipping on his coffee, "For Regulus." He added softly. Inwardly smiling as the elf looked close to tears and nodded along rapidly, before eying the illusions of uniforms with more intent. A little manipulation wouldn't hurt, the loyalty of the elf would be a boon in the coming months.
In short order Kreacher had decided on a classic old British butler uniform, cravat included. He'd look a bit ridiculous, but he'd no longer look like a starved beaten slave. Perception would matter once Dumbledore's allies needed to be courted. And a well treated servant would set him apart. While the dark faction wouldn't care at all because they wouldn't even pay attention to the happenings of servants. Kreacher popped away to make the arrangements and Sirius spent a lazy morning idly flipping through the Daily Prophet while eating his breakfast. Only ruined halfway through by Kreacher popping back and sternly - for an elf that had tried everything to avoid him - told him to take his potions.
Sirius smiled wryly to himself as he took the disgusting things, meant to help him return to peak condition. He couldn't really be upset, it was a sign already of the elf's loyalty, just like the breakfast. Before he could pop away again, Sirius ordered him to bring him one of his day robes - one for non official business.
He was soon dressed in an olive green robe that was smart, but not too obviously expensive, or made out of ridiculous materials like Acromantula silk. He'd been pondering what to do next, and on a whim, with such a good morning already in the bank. He decided it was time for a visit to Andromeda.
He has several subjects to discuss with her. And he'd definitely need her help moving forward.
She was literally the only sane member of the family - and he was including himself in that.
So at least something this week would go simply, without him having to go through too much effort.
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Of course when he decided to go see Andromeda he hadn't quite realized the missing mechanics of that decision. Like the fact he had no idea where she lived. A quick missive to his grandfather returned a perfectly respectful message - while still getting the point across that he didn't track blood traitors and the animals they rutted with. Sirius read underneath the underneath on that one, but he was pretty sure he got it right. Sadly his grandfather was the more accepting member of the family - so that said a lot of how much of a headache they were all going to be.
Tonks was a Merlin damned Metamorphmagus. Britain had more Dark Lord's and Dumbledore's in the last two centuries then they had metamorphs - you'd think that would at least give them a slight pause, accept Andromeda's decision due to excellent results if nothing else.
So due to his silly little blunder, instead of heading towards a quick morning tea with his favorite cousin - he flooed to the Ministry. Stepping out easily from the green flames onto the marble flooring of the Ministry Of Magic, a quick wave of his wand taking care of any possible detritus from the travel. The morning rush was over by now, so he had an easy time making his way to the registration desk.
He made small talk with the wide eyed young man that had the morning shift, having to remind him twice to register his wand - when the kid kept trying to hand it back to him without doing it.
"And your business in the Ministry today, Lord Black?" He managed to squeak out, the pimples on his face standing out so much more with how much he blanched as he realized he'd managed to ask the question. Also unless the man was way more observant then he looked like, someone in the Ministry had blabbed about the change of lordship already. It hadn't been in the paper yet, Sirius had checked.
Sirius wondered if perhaps the young man got many Wizengamot Lords passing through, looking as nervous as he was - it could perhaps explain why he looked like he might be avada'd right now. Sirius had met many of them in passing during family functions when he was young, he could understand the apprehension. He smiled and winked at the panicky young man, "I'm here to seduce the head of the DMLE." He stage-whispered mischievously.
A wizard walking by managed to miss his step at hearing that, stumbling and almost falling as he was too busy gaping at Sirius to watch where he was going.
"That's going to be in the Prophet tomorrow." Sirius chuckled wryly, shaking his head.
The young man almost choked as he stared wide eyed at him, a small laugh croaking its way out, the wizard's eyes bugging out as he worked his wand quickly, averting his eyes trying to pretend it never happened, his ears beet red. A gold badge popped out of the machine, in clear letters it said - Seducing the head of DMLE. Delighted, Sirius picked up the badge and placed it prominently on his robes. "Cheers, you're doing great!" He called out, walking through and entering the lifts.
The lift was uneventful, the few people that got in all eyeing him apprehensively, Sirius ignored them with ease. If the whole Wizengamot, the radio broadcasted trial, and days of Daily Prophet coverage hadn't convinced them he's perfectly fine - nothing ever will.
Arriving at the DMLE floor, right at the Auror department - he stepped out, yelling out, "Constant Vigilance!" At the top of his lungs. Lips twitching when an Auror rookie threw a whole stack of parchments in the air, panicking and reaching for his wand at the loud noise.
There were mutters all amongst the cubicles, many dirty looks were sent Sirius way, especially from the younger Aurors. There were a few chuckles from the senior Aurors as they made fun of the blushing rookie. They'd also served with Sirius, albeit for a short time, and took him in stride.
"What are you doing?" Moody asked loudly, from right behind him! And Sirius jumped forward with a yelp, to the laughter of the Aurors. He turned around and glared at the smug looking Senior Auror.
"Moody? Bloody hell, you weren't on the lift, how'd you get behind me!?" Sirius cursed, sliding his wand back in its wand holster.
"Constant Vigilance, Black." Moody sniffed, to further amusement from the department, before peering at him, a hard look in his eye, "Don't put away your wand, laddie! I could be an impostor, always keep a hold on your wand!" He barked out.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "I guess I'll just take my chance today then."
Moody snorted, shaking his head, stomping away, waving his wand to clean up the parchment spill, barking orders, "Constant Vigilance, Montague! That could have been an enemy infiltrator firing killing curses, and you would have just stood there, tossing parchment work at them!"
Sirius shook his head, and wandered away towards the DMLE director's office. He wasn't here for Moody today, and he'd had his fix of constant vigilance for a day.
Soon enough he found himself at the desk of the beautiful Miss Sweetwater again, the DMLE director's secretary. Leaning over it casually with a charming grin, he gave her a once over, "Hello there." He said suavely. Giving her his patented bedroom eyes.
She gave him a look he'd gotten from women many times - the, I'm interested in your good looks and fun ways, but I'm worried you're too much of a rogue, look. Then she turned away, focusing back on her parchment work, "She's busy and you do not have an appointment." She sniffed. Giving a disapproving final look at him, eyes fixed on his badge, before continuing with her work.
"You sure there's no way you could just give me a few minutes with Amy?" Sirius tried, bringing out the puppy dog eyes. Bringing out the innocent rapscallion look, it had worked great on Minnie. Sometimes. Like ten percent of the time maybe. So it should work 200 percent of the time on someone not McGonagall.
Her lips twitched for a moment, before she forced herself to frown, "It's Director Bones! And no, she's busy." She said primly, looking away from him.
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, today had been a bit of a spur of the moment visit, he hadn't thought to make an appointment. He tapped his wand to his throat, casting a sonorus, "Amy, you busy?"
Miss Sweetwater stared at him incredulously, as the words echoed through the department. "You… You man-child!" She sputtered out, lost in awe at his gambit.
Sirius wasn't officially out as a Lord yet, not until he took his place in the Wizengamot. So he felt justified to play a little, while he still could. It wouldn't do to turn out as stuffy as the corpses on the 'mot. Besides, it would give him a good reputation with the regular ministry drones. The ones that hadn't lost the will to live yet.
Amelia Bones stepped out of her office. A dry look on her face. "Don't bother, Miss Sweetwater, this one is incorrigible." She sighed, "Can I assume you've arrived to clear away the parchment work for your other form?" She asked Sirius.
"Well, might as well." Sirius said with a charming smile, polishing his badge none too subtly. Amelia rolled her eyes at the wording, upon noticing the badge. "Making your eyes roll back in your head is a good beginning!" Sirius said cheerfully as a rejoinder when he saw that. Giving her an exaggerated wink to go with his roguish good looks.
"Want me to call security, Director Bones?" Miss Sweetwater said with a huff, glaring at Sirius. He'd need to work at his wit and charm, this usually worked. Azkaban must have thrown him off his game. And the whole mind scramble thing.
"No, Lord Black is leaving. He has a date with the registry." Amelia Bones said dry as sand, "The head of the DMLE is not the first step, surprisingly. Don't worry, Edith will take good care of you." She returned to her office, shaking her head, but Sirius imagined she had a smile on her face, it soothed his pride to imagine it.
He turned back to Miss Sweetwater who smirked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, "Edith is 174, I'm sure she'll be just your type," she purred out, "Do you need directions to the registry?"
Sirius smiled wryly, his pride having taken a bit of a hit, "If you don't mind." He answered politely, it's not an area he'd ever been in during his short time at the Ministry. And he'd find his way to the floo registry while he was at it, nail down Andromeda's address.
It took him until after lunch, due to Edith being as slow as 174 suggested. But eventually he'd paid his fine and shown off Padfoot and registered officially - thereby saving himself from criminal charges when Pettigrew inevitably spilled the beans on his Animagus form.
He'd definitely need to change things when he became Minister. It was ridiculously easy to bribe the people at the floo authority to give up Andromeda's address. Good for him, but really not a good thing for a government to be selling access to people's home addresses for the low price of 25 galleons.
When he was minister it would be at least 500 galleons to bribe your way to the records. And then Aurors would be waiting to arrest them for bribery after they've paid. Another nice little extra way to make some funds for the Ministry - for a short time anyway.
Then again some Purebloods might actually be dumb enough to try it again and again.
Crabbe and Goyle in particular weren't known for their brilliant wit after all.
Studying the coordinates for Andromeda's residence on the way out of the Ministry - he apparated immediately upon exiting the Ministry.
Bit later than he wanted, but afternoon tea was very British.
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He arrived with a soft crack at the driveway to a small pleasant looking house in the suburbs. Muggle neighborhood, a nice little garden attached to the small brownstone house. Definitely not somewhere anyone would search for a member of the Black family.
He walked up the cobblestone path, leading through the perfectly stylized lawn and garden, Andromeda's work no doubt, she'd always been a green thumb. He didn't feel much in the way of wards, although he wasn't an expert of any kind. Probably more of a safety in obscurity approach - cheaper too. War time wards were very expensive unless you happened to have a ward master on your own handing out favors. He paused at the door, straightening out his robes, before taking the knocker in hand and knocking loudly thrice.
There was movement in the house, and soon enough the door opened slowly, like the owner was hesitant. Sirius caught his first sight of Andromeda in a few years - the woman still beautiful, even in a sweatshirt and an apron, although too similar in facial structure to Bellatrix for his tastes. She also looked very hesitant.
"No hug for a favorite cousin?" Sirius said softly. Stood on the doorstep feeling some anxiety at the very open hesitation in the woman in front of him.
"Sirius…." Andromeda said slowly, the door still only half opened. "If you're here for an apology," She said, straightening her back, fixing him with a glare.
Sirius chuckled and stopped her from continuing by speaking up, "Not at all, Andy, you had nothing to do with my imprisonment."
Andromeda bit her lip, hand on the edge of the door, "But I never for a second believed you were innocent, either." She said quietly.
Sirius was taken aback, he hadn't expected that?" Really, not even one? Out of everyone I thought you…" Sirius trailed off, both of them standing uncomfortably at her door.
She sighed, opening the door up, "You might as well come in then." She mumbled, stepping back and allowing Sirius to enter her home. "Ted is at work, and I'd prefer to finish this before he comes home." She walked ahead of him, "I suppose owls were all sick? Floo not working?" She asked, somewhat waspishly.
"Ashamed of me?" Sirius had to ask, still slightly thrown by how this meeting was going so far. "And I guess it was a bit rude of me to just appear at your door." He admitted sheepishly.
"Not anymore then I am of any other Black." She replied softly. Moving into the living room, taking a seat at a dining table, a floral table cloth adding to the homey feeling of the space. Several plants dotted the living area, making it feel alive in a way. Lived in, he supposed. Nothing like Grimmauld place which was more of a mausoleum. He sunk into the chair opposite of hers, eyeing her carefully. Probably not the best time to ask her if she wanted to redecorate Grimmauld. Even though she was the only name on his list at this point.
"You have to understand Sirius. I fled the family - I expected that during the war Bellatrix would kick down the door and kill us all. If we were lucky." Andromeda said gently. Hands laid onto the table, fingers intertwined. "And that was if any other members of the family didn't pull some strings to arrange an accident." She smiled sadly, "I lived in constant fear of the name Black."
Sirius grimaced, pulling a hand through his hair, "No, I get that part, I really do. But Andy, I'm not like them."
"Aren't you?" Andromeda said shrewdly, eyes piercing through him. "I remember the boy you were Sirius. Cruelty was never very far away, and if the papers are correct, you were on your way to murder a man, instead of turning him in to the authorities, when everything turned wrong for you." Her lips quirked into a mirthless smile, "Murder seems very Black to me, Sirius." She hesitated for a moment, before letting one last arrow fly, "There's a reason no one really argued against your guilt, Sirius. It wasn't that unbelievable."
Sirius couldn't even argue most of that, because it was mostly true, from a certain point of view it certainly looked bad, he didn't agree with them all thinking him evil without bothering to question him, though. "I made mistakes, I've seen that now, but it was never my intention to do anything evil." He said, eyes meeting hers, "I'm trying to be better. And I'm trying to force the family along for it."
Andromeda just sighed, and sat in silence for a few minutes, before shaking her head, looking at him with tired eyes, "You haven't learned, not if you're trying to bring them all together in one direction - away from their comfortable hate. You can't Gryffindor this all together." She chastised, "This isn't Hogwarts, Sirius, this is the real world, you can't just move on with nothing but hope and wishes."
"Then join me, add your Slytherin mind to the process, we can make the Black family a force for good." Sirius implored her, he hadn't meant to pitch her today, had only meant to touch base again, suss out how receptive to rejoining the family she'd be, but if he left without doing it now, he might not get another chance.
"I left for a reason, Sirius. And I have a daughter now. I don't want her exposed to that kind of darkness." Andromeda said, immediately rejecting him. Eyes firm, mouth drawn into a thin line.
"She doesn't need to meet any of them until everything is sorted out, she'll be safe, Black wards would keep her away from anything that could hurt her." Sirius argued, but his heart wasn't really in it. He could tell that he was talking to a wall. Andromeda wasn't going to change her mind.
Indeed, she looked at him with sad eyes, "Sirius," she said softly, "How safe were you under Black wards?" She looked even sadder as Sirius immediately stiffened, "The threat isn't outside, it's inside. I'm not going back in, I won't!"
Sirius stood up, nodding slowly, "I admit this is not how I wished for things to go," he said quietly, studying his cousin. "If you ever need anything from me, I'm just an owl away, we'll always be family, Andy."
"Thank you." Andromeda said softly. "I wish you well, Sirius. Really I do, but please don't come over unannounced again." She asked, awkwardly.
The conversation was obviously over, so Sirius quietly let himself out, and apparated directly home. His mood was thoroughly ruined.
That had not gone how he wanted.
Andromeda had been a big part of his plans going forward. Not just for such a simple thing as redecorating Grimmauld place. But to take over in the Wizengamot for the Black's once he became Minister.
Andromeda would be perfect for running the family's PR.
This was a real setback.
It also hurt. He hadn't expected it. But it hurt that she thought so lowly of him. Even if he couldn't blame her for not wanting to deal with the rest of the family. He'd thought she'd at least want him.
That he'd be part of Nymphadora's life.
But being the Black Lord, a title that let him in almost anywhere in the magical world - was exactly the kind of thing Andromeda apparently wanted nothing to do with.
As soon as he arrived home he summoned the firewhiskey - time to see if getting drunk the magical way solved anything.
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Andromeda sat quietly at her dinner table for almost twenty minutes, going back over the conversation, feeling slightly guilty for being so straightforward. She should have cushioned it a bit. Merlin she'd been as blunt as a Gryffindor. She blamed his unexpected appearance today for her less than sensitive reaction.
Then again, she wasn't entirely unaware that he'd be here eventually, so there was no real excuse. She sighed loudly, standing up and walking up to the tiny fireplace in the living room, taking a pinch of floo powder from the small tin on the mantle and tossing it into the flames. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts." She called out sharply, watching the fire flaring green. Getting on her knees and sticking her head through as soon as the floo connected.
"Mrs Tonks? I take it that he arrived then." Albus Dumbledore said immediately upon seeing Andromeda's head in the fireplace. Peering down at her through his half moon glasses, seated at his desk, a large tome in his hands.
Andromeda frowned, feeling discomfited, "He did. It didn't go well." She reported clippedly. She wasn't overly happy with being involved with Dumbledore, but he had protected her during the war. So she owed him this at least.
"Tell me everything, my dear."
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Time moved on and the day for the family dinner arrived. Sirius even assisted Kreacher in making sure the formal dining room was set up properly and cleaned top to bottom. Appearances were important - he couldn't be seen as faulty - they'd already be against him, he needed an aura of competence and control.
As for catering for the meal, Sirius didn't trust Kreacher enough - loyal now or not - to create a dinner menu for the entire Black family on short notice - also because Kreacher wasn't too fond of Cassiopeia and the last thing he needed was the little bugger putting shampoo in her food. Also, Sirius was a delightful son of a bitch, (both in a factual sense, and metaphorical) so he placed a catering order from the nearest muggle Indian restaurant he could find. Screw pumpkin juice - his family was going to drink Pepsi tonight, while dining on the best muggle Indian food money can buy, when one orders at the last minute from the nearest available place, anyway.
It says something that having been reborn, so to speak, in this magical world - the greatest culture shock he received so far was having to go and order the food in person, as he had no access to a muggle phone - and the modern takeout model of a click away on your cell phone didn't exist anyway. Besides, the muggles wouldn't even be able to find the house, so it was a moot point.
As for why he was being petty? Because fuck his family. Sirius had been so busy planning for everything going forward - that the whole actual food part of the dinner situation had slipped his mind. In the end he was fairly pleased with the solution. Because he'd get to crack up on the inside the entire dinner, watching their faces as they navigated Indian food, while trying to remain polite in front of their new Lord and suss out his intentions. Especially his mother, who he knew saw anything foreign as distasteful and trashy at best, he'd enjoy watching her try and hold her tongue the most.
He had a balancing act to maintain. His family needed to stay aware that he wasn't really like them. That he was a Gryffindor not a Slytherin, ( although he'd admit he had several Slytherin qualities… ) One, so they would always underestimate him based on their biases, making them easier to manage. Two, so that they understood he wouldn't do business as usual, that cruelty and torture was not going to be allowed.
Unless he had to do it to them, of course. Do as I say, not as I do, and all that. They couldn't be trusted with it, but he trusted himself just fine.
The dinner itself would showcase his political ambitions and tactical acumen. Showing he wasn't just a Gryffindor. But the Indian food prank - would make sure they didn't believe he'd changed too much. Important that. Because people feared what they couldn't understand and old people feared change more than anything. If he came off as too changed and without any of the characteristics they'd known of him as a young teenager - they'd work that much harder against him just on pure suspicion and spite. Better to have them go along with the Gryffindor, for now. While thinking they could snatch an advantage at some point. It also played into showing his control, because they'd all know that he picked this food to needle them - to test them, push them. To give him an excuse to exercise his powers over them.
So even if it was last minute - it did serve the purposes he needed for it.
Time ticked down, he went and got the food, Kreacher magicking everything together onto the table, the muggle Indian food going into 16th century goblin made silverware.
He wore the formal Black Lord robes, the heavy robes almost featherlight for all that they looked massive - the finest silks, jewels and runes combining into a masterpiece of excess. Royal purple and the darkest black - it was really a sight. Then he sat down at the head of the table and waited. Kreacher would greet the guests at the floo and bring them over, one by one. Supplicants come to see their Lord.
There would be no spouses today. Only those of Black blood were coming. Sirius didn't need his family to be distracted - they needed to listen, whether they liked it or not. Also he had more control over actual members of Black blood.
The first to arrive was of course his grandfather, Arcturus took one look at the table, before sneering, shaking his head in disbelief as he slowly walked over to the right hand of the table. Sitting down gingerly, peering suspiciously at the food nearby, kept under warming charms. "I thought you smarter than this." He said sharply, "My Lord." He added on as an afterthought.
Sirius wasn't going to have any of that. "Don't forget who holds the power here, grandfather." He said with finality, twisting the ring on his finger, "I will do as I must. They'll fight me either way, better for something that doesn't matter."
"This will end well." Arcturus muttered, but bowed his head in aquisence. Picking up a goblet and sniffing at it suspiciously. Before taking a sip of the muggle soft drink. Rearing back immediately with disgust, "Circe's behind! Is this pure sugar? It's revolting!"
"You get used to it." Sirius said, trying to hide his amusement. By the dark look thrown his way, he wasn't doing a very good job.
Soon enough the next guest arrived. Pollux Black. And immediately followed by his sister Cassiopeia, who'd arrived as well, both entering with Kreacher together. Kreacher looked smart in his butler uniform, something none of the arrivals had yet to mention. Sirius wondered if they'd even noticed.
He'd give fifty/fifty chances his grandfather had, and bet the house that none of the others would. Except his Mother perhaps, due to her weird relationship with the elf.
"Pollux, Cassiopeia." He said quietly, waving to the seats to his left, "Take your seats." He ordered firmly. The siblings shared a loaded look before obeying. They were both in their seventies and it showed, silver dominating their hair, Pollux more than Cassiopeia. While other wizards aged gracefully - Black's it seemed managed to look their age. Cassiopeia looked like a cranky old witch who baked children in ovens in her spare time. While Pollux was gaunt and thin, his face could be carved out of rock.
Cygnus Black came through next, the stocky man had a weak chin and watery eyes, forever under the yoke of his older sister Walburga - Sirius dear mother - it was a wonder how Cygnus had managed to produce three women like Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Sirius simply waved him to an empty seat, this one needed no words, he'd simply follow Walburga in whatever foolishness his mother would try.
He'd been broken decades ago, he'd be of no real use.
Cygnus had a lot in common with Sirius' father Orion, both weak men under the yoke of the same harridan of a woman; his father died in '79 however. Which is perhaps why his mother arrived alone, next. He'd expected her to arrive with one of the others, trying to project strength in numbers.
The permanent sneer that was always on her face was even more prominent today, as she stormed in, wearing so much black that she looked fairly ridiculous, the woman even wore a veil - not that it hid her ugly sneer from anyone.
"Mother. Have a seat." He ordered calmly. Meeting her eyes, his own cold. He could cast a killing curse right now and not even feel a twitch of regret.
Walburga seemed to possess some self control, as she sat down, as far away as she could from him and still be seated at the table. Sirius suppressed a chuckle at the honest horror on her face when she noticed the food on the table, the woman looked sick with rage.
"Ah, our last arrival." Sirius called out a few minutes later. "Fashionably late as always, Cissy."
Narcissa entered the dining room, cold and unfeeling as usual, and dressed in the finest robes money could buy, her blonde hair looked out of place amongst the black family that had gathered. She looked like the perfect Malfoy. Thank Merlin he'd forbidden spouses today - imagining Lucius being here as well was enough to make him gag.
As she took her seat next to her father. Sirius stood up with a cold smile, splaying his hands out, "All the family together again. All come before their Lord!" He grinned somewhat maliciously, "Don't worry, I don't need you to crawl and kiss the hem of my robes," He enjoyed the way they all squirmed at that, except for Narcissa who glared at him, some fire in those cold eyes at that comment. It was nice to see some life in her stuck up face.
"What is this… Garbage!?" Walburga shrieked shrilly, waving at the curry in front of her.
Sirius calmly sat back down at the head of the table, taking her usual inability to keep a clear head as business as usual, it was not yet time for her to be an example. "It's your food, mother. It's dinner time, after all. Shall we?"
There were some quiet mutterings of agreement, none of the Black's willing to push too far quite yet. Sirius greatly enjoyed seeing the grimaces and looks of bafflement as his family partook in Indian food, muggle made at that, plus the wonders of muggle soft drinks. Amusingly Narcissa seemed to actually enjoy it, well she always had a sweet tooth.
Speaking of the woman, after a dainty bite of curried chicken she spoke up, "I am… Surprised that Andromeda isn't here today." She said carefully. Not looking at her father, but staring straight at Sirius with piercing eyes.
Sirius noted the turmoil in Cygnus, and took amusement from his poor attempt to hide his rage at his runaway daughter being brought up. "Ah, yes, she somehow figured this lovely gathering wouldn't want her around." Sirius drawled sarcastically. "Something about wanting to hunt her down as a blood traitor."
That was all Cygnus could take, the weak man that bent over at every point - still had the strength to bluster out, "She's a mudblood whore!"
Sirius smiled coldly as every eye turned his way, assessing him. "Interesting." He said, turning his gaze on Cygnus, tilting his head. "Andromeda has produced the first Metamorphmagus in the Black family in centuries. What have you achieved, Cygnus?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius! Cygnus produced three Black children, that trumps some mudblood half-breed!" Walburga came to Cygnus' defense, slamming a withered hand down on the table.
Sirius hummed, "There's supposed to be a Lord in there somewhere I think." He laid his hand flat on the table, the Black Lord ring visible to all. "You are no longer allowed a voice." He ordered mildly. Grasping the family magic through the ring. Intent on his mother.
Everyone felt it as the wards activated. Cygnus cursing and rearing back in his chair as Walburgas tongue vanished. The woman stared madly ahead, trying to scream something. Pollux and Cassiopeia, who had been content to observe so far, both shared a look, before scooting their chairs away from Walburga.
"As for that ridiculous assertion. Let's count them shall we. Your achievements, Cygnus." Sirius said harshly, a dark smile on his face, "Andromeda of course produced the Metamorphmagus child, after disobeying you and marrying elsewhere. So not any of your work." Sirius shook his head, clicking his tongue loudly, "Secondly we have Bellatrix, married off to the Lestranges and insane, and childless, rotting in Azkaban." He clapped his hands together shortly, the sharp noise making Cygnus shrink into himself, "Lastly we have Narcissa, who's produced one Malfoy spawn, and otherwise have been busy sucking the cock of a half blood, born of a squib and a muggle."
Walburga's eyes bugged out of her head and she rose up, screaming, still internally, reaching for her wand as Cygnus and Pollux both called out that he was a liar in outraged voices, his grandfather and the other women observing quietly. Sirius scoffed, waving his hand, utilizing the wards to freeze his mother in place where she stood. Only her eyes were able to move, and did so madly.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Sirius intoned, writing the name in the air, his grandfather closing his eyes, refusing to see the harsh truth once again. With a wave of his wand, Sirius changed the words into their emo teenage purpose - I am Lord Voldemort.
"No!" Narcissa gasped, looking even paler than usual. Cassiopeia eyed the name shrewdly, before giving Arcturus a look, upon seeing the older man wasn't protesting the discovery, she leaned back in her chair, a considering look on her face.
Her brother wasn't as calm, Pollux standing up, hands on the table, "That can't be true! The Dark Lord can't be…. From a muggle!?"
Cygnus had a hand to his heart, breathing rapidly, "A mudblood!" He squeaked out, eyes horrified.
"He's a Gaunt. The family so inbred the last girl of the family was born a squib, one who snared a muggle, raped him, and bore Tom Marvolo Riddle." Sirius drawled out before smirking mockingly, "Or as you lovingly call him, The Dark Lord or Master."
"You don't care about the difference between mudbloods and purebloods, why are you showing us this?" Cassiopeia asked bluntly.
"I don't care. And I will be taking the family in a new direction. The family motto is Always Pure. We shall keep it. Always Pure. In magic. That's what's important. Magic." Sirius said coldly. Meeting her disbelieving eyes.
Narcissa laughed suddenly, cold and sharp, "Is that Dumbeldore talking, Sirius?" Pollux shook his head free from his mutterings and stared at Sirius angrily at that.
Sirius smiled, "Forget that I am your Lord again, Cissy, and you'll be licking your husband's feet without a tongue." He warned. "Dumbledore doesn't have what it takes to rule the magical world. Only a Black does."
"Rule the magical world…" Pollux muttered, looking completely thrown, "What are you after?" He blinks quickly and adds, "My Lord."
"I will revolutionize the wizarding world, at the top of the Ministry, with all of you working for the same goal. The advancement of magic," Sirius shrugged casually, sitting back down, "Of course family bloodlines will benefit as they have history, but there will be no more mudblood propaganda, no more murdering squibs, the world will change."
"You'd see us drown under a flood of mudbloods!" Cygnus said horrified. Having regained some semblance of composure again.
"Don't be ridiculous." Sirius snapped. "The two most powerful wizards of the last one hundred years are half bloods. Dumbledore and Voldemort - and Voldemort might as well be a muggleborn - born as he is from a squib and a muggle. Harry Potter somehow killed Voldemort, and he's half blood too. Andromeda's daughter is a half blood and a Metamorphmagus - the first in centuries." Sirius stared them all down slowly, meeting their eyes one by one, except for his mother. "It is the truth, we can either stick our heads in the sand and avoid it, and drown as the world changes. Or we can be the change!"
"Sirius, is right. It's why he's the Lord of the family now." Arcturus cut in grouchily, "The Black family has always stood at the top of the world, we won't lose that now because you fools can't see the opportunity in front of us."
"What opportunity?" Pollux asked slowly, sinking back into his chair, Cassiopeia putting a calming hand on his arm.
Narcissa scoffed, "isn't it obvious, he's a war hero, Dumbledore's side owe him one after Azkaban." She smiled viciously, the previous shock gone as if it was never there, "And the godfather of the boy-who-lived."
Cygnus shook his head wildly, "The purebloods won't follow some mudblood lover!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, and casually removed the tongue from the weak fool as well. The man choked in fright and shock, as he sat in his chair, no longer daring to move. Narcissa sent him a concerned look, before pursing her lips and returning her gaze to Sirius. Seemingly reassessing him.
"You will get your tongue back at the end of our little get together, "Sirius said casually, "Maybe." He amended nastily.
"He's not wrong." Cassiopeia said calmly. Meeting Sirius eyes with a measure of amusement in her own.
"The end goal is one thing, obviously that will not be made public." Sirius explained. "Before any change can come, the Ministry itself needs a complete changeover. It will take time." He met the eyes of those of his family who so far had not proven completely idiotic. "But if we do it right… The Black family will be mentioned in the same breath as the founders of Hogwarts."
"Lofty goal." Narcissa murmured. But there was a greedy glint in her eyes.
"A goal worthy of a Black." Arcturus agreed with a nasty little smirk. "Dumbledore will fall over dead just at the thought."
"Good." Sirius said coldly. Drawing intrigued looks from the rest of the family.
Silence fell over the table as everyone pondered the possibility of gaining power in the Ministry. Sirius could see the greed and hunger for power in his relatives, except for perhaps Cassiopeia - he didn't know her motivation was, he'd have to find out. Greed he could easily control. They'd be eating out of the palm of his hands.
He didn't want an unknown variable. He'd have to find out what made her tick. He eyed Pollux - he'd be the weak link for her.
"Before we speak of any particulars, let's take care of some housekeeping." Sirius said, turning to his still fuming mother, frozen perfectly still, her eyes rolling in her head. "As Lord of this house, I banish you Walburga Black - to the property in Norway, to never be allowed to leave, or communicate with another being again, magic lost to you under my aegis."
There were some sharp intakes of breath and Cygnus looked like he was going to piss himself. Although not actually removing her magic - he'd basically done the same thing. Confined her to a Black property and prevented her from accessing magic while under Black wards. She was basically a squib now. "Kreacher, take her away." He ordered, disregarding her from his mind, not even watching as the woman disappeared out of his life forever.
He eyed Cygnus darkly, laying a hand on his shoulder, "I trust there won't be any more objections." He asked mildly. A small smile on his face.
Cygnus shook his head so rapidly he almost fainted. And Sirius utilized the family magic to reverse the tongue removal. Cygnus grasped his tongue with both hands in relief. The man was pale and shaking.
Sirius turned to the rest of the family clapping his hands together. Meeting their calculated gazes with one of his own. "Let's talk about oaths…"
He almost laughed out loud at Narcissa's fallen face, did she really think he'd allow her to just go spill the beans to Lucius. No, Narcissa would serve the Black family. Not the Malfoy one.
Lots of plans were made that night, the Black family slowly falling in line with his thinking.
Even if in the back of their minds they no doubt remained the same lovely bigots as usual.
Sirius could work with that.
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Authors note:
So that's the Black family. Lovely bunch. All of them died within the decade in canon. Let's see if they have any longer life now.
In Black family stories Andromeda always, or at least so it seems - like a general trope, signs back up immediately. Not very realistic to me so I went the opposite direction, she doesn't want anything to do with the people she'd spent years fearing would come kill her and her family.
One chapter to go tomorrow and then that's all I got for now, then it's updates once a month from then on due to my other five stories also getting a once a month update, and each is 10kish chapters.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
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"No, absolutely not!" The sharp tone echoed across the almost completely empty house at Grimmauld place.
Narcissa raised an unimpressed eyebrow, tapping her dainty heels on the hardwood floor of the Lord's study. "Don't be a baby, Siri…" She said, managing to roll her eyes, yet appear cold and regal at the same time. Sirius would be impressed if he wasn't so damn annoyed at the woman.
"You are not bringing a team of decorators in here! Have you gone mad, woman!?" Sirius barked, tapping his ring against the desk twice for emphasis. "And don't call me Siri!"
Narcissa let out a drawn out sigh, "I'm not going to be calling you Lord Black, while you're acting like a child." She said drolly.
Sirius was already regretting getting the family back together. Narcissa had been coming over everyday for the past two weeks, helping clean the place out, sometimes helped by Cassiopeia, although mostly helped by Kreacher, (moving it into the attic, he wasn't stupid enough to let her leave with anything.) Truly her help had been an act of deception and cunning, she'd been so helpful Sirius had almost forgotten she was the wife of an inner circle Death Eater. She'd taken ruthless advantage, trying to convince him on numerous topics while she had access, and sounding so damn reasonable about it too.
She'd be so much easier to deal with if she just sprouted racist unhinged bullshite like Bellatrix.
He kept forgetting to toss that rabid bitch out of the family properly, he'd have to get on that when he had a moment of time…
"I'm not acting like a child," He growled, eye twitching in irritation, "I'm simply not letting anyone in - to potentially place listening charms in the walls or anything else that a team of wizards could do with access to my house."
If Sirius had access to someone else's manor or ancestral home - he'd place them everywhere - and he'd try and enchant muggle bugs to work in a magical setting and plant them too, just to cover all angles. So he wasn't letting a bunch of strangers walkabout on their own in his home!
He certainly didn't have the time to watch them, he barely had enough time to eat most days right now. If he didn't have Kreacher he'd likely miss most of his potions and his meals to boot. The little bugger was beyond useful, even if he was almost creepily loyal now that the locket had been handled.
"These people are experts, I've used them myself and they do splendid work, they transformed Malfoy Manor into a winter wonderland last Yule that was the talk of high society for months!" Narcissa explained with a chilly tone to her voice, her entire bearing practically screaming, I know what I'm talking about you big lout.
It might have been years, but Sirius still had a decent handle on how to read his cousin Cissy. Even if she was now a Malfoy, and definitely not entirely like the person he'd snuck out chocolates for back in the day, just to see her smile a real smile for once - amongst their family full of facades. And Cissy had always excelled at looking and acting exactly how she was supposed to for any given moment or setting.
It's what made her so damn hard to trust, right now… And it's why he'd been working on her these past two weeks as well, he wondered if she'd noticed the myriad of ways she'd changed her language and behavior just by constant exposure to him and his distaste for the more outdated pureblood ways. She was too focused on trying to worm her way under his armor to realize he was doing the same. Likely underestimating him based on his previous careless attitude and behavior.
"Yeah, that's the problem, right there. Malfoy…" Sirius said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, there had been some loooong nights lately, "You expect me to trust any contractors utilized by your husband?"
Narcissa crossed her arms, lips curled amusedly, "You think Lucius arranged for the decorations of Malfoy Manor?" She asked, some life appearing in her eyes, her amusement clear to Sirius.
"Lucius, you," Sirius waved a dismissive hand, "Same thing, it's a Malfoy contractor. They're not getting in my house." He sneered, "I'd sooner let Snape in!"
Narcissa sat down in the chair in front of his desk, crossing her legs daintily, making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, "Stubborn Gryffindors…"She made it sound like a curse, "Sirius, I'm still a Black, and family is first." She met his eyes seriously, "Always!" She stressed.
Sirius knew that, knew that Narcissa would have sacrificed anything for her son. For her family. But that was the rub wasn't it? Which family… Because they were ideologically on opposite sides. "Family first is a nice platitude," He acknowledged, with a tired smile, "But you're kind of straddling two different ones Narcissa, in my position would you place your trust in someone like that?"
"Yes." She said without hesitation, making Sirius snort and shake his head, his skepticism on full display. How can she lie with such a straight face…
"You see us as opposites, but we don't necessarily have to be…" She said slowly, she met his eyes again, her own softening minisculely, "Lucius and you have a lot in common, you know…" She trailed off leadingly.
"So this is the pitch, huh…" Sirius said, a dark grin growing on his face as he tapped his ring against the desk again idly, "What does luscious Lucius want to say?"
"Drop your ridiculous preconceptions for one moment, my Lord!" Narcissa bit out, losing a bit of her cool, "Lucius didn't agree with all of what happened, we do have much the same goals for the wizarding world and anything else can be negotiated, he can be of help!"
Sirius closed his eyes, slowly tapping his ring on the desk, letting the dull thuds ground him as he thought it through. It galled him, but Narcissa was definitely right about how useful her husband could be for his plans. He had connections, allies. Votes. Not enough by itself to control the Ministry by any stretch… Not yet… But he'd be immensely helpful in someone gaining that control themselves. But what would the price be?
"Are you trying to say Lucius wasn't a good little Death Eater?" Sirius asked, slightly mockingly, probing for more information, and knowing that Narcissa was too shrewd to let anything real out - without pushing her buttons first.
"He was an excellent one," She sniffed, a tiny self satisfied smirk on her face as Sirius opened his eyes and gave her an odd look, "What? Did you think I'd deny it? Here of all places?" She gestured around them, to the splendid Lord's study, where countless Blacks had practically run the country from, in the past, "Lucius and I both -" She stressed the word meaningfully, " - agreed with the underlying cause. Protecting our heritage, our family, and our magic."
Sirius scoffed, "Don't try to convince me you were against killing muggleborns, Cissy! No one's that good of a liar…"
Narcissa pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly, "Don't be silly, neither I nor Lucius cares one whit what happens with them, but all the magical blood that was spilled… We didn't agree with that…" For a moment there was sadness on her face, before it all shuttered under the normal cool facade again.
"Oh, wonderful," Sirius drawled sarcastically, "So you're still racist and bigoted but you're the nice bigots. All my worries are laid to rest now…"
Narcissa stiffened angrily, eyes narrowing at him, "It is how we were raised! Both Blacks and Malfoys, It doesn't mean we want to eradicate them, just keep our station above them!"
Sirius gave a short sardonic laugh, the balls on this woman! She knows he holds all the power over her as long as she is within his reach and within the Black family wards - and yet she still dares to try and convince him with Death Eater propaganda. Slightly sanitized perhaps, for his Gryffindor sensibilities. But still stemming from the same rotten source.
"You'll be waiting a long time indeed, cousin…" He drawled darkly, staring at her with half lidded eyes, "If you expect me to fall for such a transparent attempt of converting me to your point of view."
Narcissa let out a huff, leaning back in her chair, looking at him contemplatively, "You've changed…" She murmured, before a smirk grew slowly on her face, making it come alive, "For the better, I dare say." She bowed her head slightly, eyes glittering, "Lord Black." For the first time it sounded like she meant it.
Sirius sighed irritably, pulling a hand through his hair, "Damn it Cissy, was all this just some demented test?" He growled out, annoyed at himself that he hadn't caught onto that until now. She was just probing him, testing his mettle.
"Partly," She acknowledged, tilting her head slightly, studying him, "It wouldn't have been bad for me if you were that easily led…" She shrugged lightly, "But this will do as well."
"You realize I will not be doing what your husband wants?" Sirius made sure to clarify, staring her down with hard eyes and a grim face.
"Not all of it, no, but one so rarely gets everything one wants in politics." She answered airily, unbothered.
Sirius could read underneath the underneath - if you want something you got to give us something. "I'm open to… Negotiation." He admitted, not pleased about it, and he definitely had lines he wouldn't cross… But Malfoy would be too damn useful to make him an enemy when he could make him an ally. As long as he stayed aware that the slimy bastard would change his tune the minute he heard news of Voldemort coming back. Half-blood son of a squib or not - the Death Eaters already marked would follow him, out of self preservation if nothing else. Hopefully recruiting would take a hit, however. And if he could snatch the Minister's seat, he could get to work on preventing Voldemort all together.
"I'll set up a meeting, perhaps a luncheon in Diagon Alley." Narcissa said, too polished to crow over her small victory, but wearing a self satisfied little smile still.
Sirius snorted with derision, "In public, with a reformed Death Eater, before I've had a chance to craft my public appearance… Nice try..."
"Pity. There's a lovely new restaurant I've been dying to go to." Narcissa replied innocently, and then without missing a beat, she continued, "Malfoy Manor is always welcoming to any Black."
"He can come here or he can bloody well fuck off." Sirius stated bluntly, well aware he'd have to play these polite little games from now on, but not in his own damn home, and not with family. "I'm open to talking, Cissy…" He said quietly and with intensity, holding her gaze, "It's better than the run-around you'll get from Dumbledore, but I am Lord Black… He'll come to me, or I'll go through him when the time comes."
Narcissa met his burning gaze with a blank one, nothing showing on her face as she pondered him. Eventually she nodded tightly, once. "As is your right, Lord Black." She murmured.
"And no bloody decorators, you and Cassiopeia managed just fine to clean up this house, you can decorate it yourselves!" He ordered, pointing at her sternly, striking while the iron was hot and the damn frustrating woman for once wasn't trying to be slippery with every word and action. Slytherin from birth, that one.
"I'll do the decorating, as you wish." Narcissa said smugly, a hue of victory settling around her.
Sirius eyed her suspiciously, "Yes, you will…" He agreed, wondering why it suddenly felt like he'd made a mistake.
Narcissa was a pureblood trophy wife, surely decorating was her kind of thing, a job well suited for her pedantic and exacting personality.
Then why did it feel like he'd been maneuvered into letting her take charge over the styling of his ancestral home?
Well…
Whatever. As long as he didn't have to do it. He had enough on his plate.
If he saw a single peacock however, he reserved the right to set everything on fire.
There was being rich, and then there was just being a pillock.
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The next morning, while Narcissa was doing Circe knows what to violate the kitchen and front entryway - he met with Pollux in the study.
Unfortunately, only Cassiopeia and Narcissa seemed to have the constitution and intelligence to actually be very useful. Pollux wasn't too bad, but he was an incredibly arrogant man, full of knowledge on the dark arts, and yet as personable as a root vegetable. Sirius couldn't be picky however, he couldn't sideline the entire family, it would defeat the point of showcasing the Black's were back. Hence he was using Pollux even though the man wasn't ideal for the task he'd set him upon. The less said about Cygnus the better…
Arcturus had his own tasks which prevented him from helping Pollux with his, plus Sirius didn't trust Arcturus skills overly much either, (Outside maybe the old folks club in the Wizengamot.) The old man had allowed the Black family to wither in the first place. Not exactly something that gave Sirius confidence in his abilities or his strength of will.
No, Cassiopeia and Narcissa were his most useful family members (Dammit Andi!) Which was a headache and a half for him, since he couldn't trust Narcissa any further then he could throw her… The woman constantly prodded him to figure out how best to influence him and he hadn't gotten a full handle on what she actually wanted yet. Cassiopeia on the other hand was plenty competent but there Sirius faced the problem that the woman saw others as so much lesser than her, that he couldn't send her out to deal with anyone on behalf of the family - because she'd surely start a blood feud!
This family was going to drive him to alcoholism… And he hasn't even heard Pollux's report yet. Merlin let it not be a problem, He thought, he could really use something going right, without him having to fix it for them…
He offered the man a drink genially, lounging back in his chair, knowing that he couldn't come off as too harsh now, after the family dinner, without scaring the family members with a… he'd be kind and call it a weaker constitution.
Sounded better than bloody craven worms…
Pollux was settled soon enough, sipping appreciatively at some whiskey, while Sirius had some apple juice - it was 8 in the morning, he wasn't that stupid… Anymore.
"I wonder if Malfoy is pleased or upset that I've monopolized his wife for weeks now…" Sirius mused out loud, listening to the racket as Narcissa and Kreacher magically altered his kitchen. Some small talk to set the other man at ease would hopefully keep the other man from being too uneasy. He didn't have time to secure their absolute loyalty unfortunately, and had to hope the family ties would be enough.
Pollux chuckled into his drink, "Considering her sharp tongue, you might have an ally in him already for saving him from it." He said conspiratorially.
"Trust me, I've seen enough of it myself. I'm still not sure if I decided to have her decorate, or if she decided and then moved me into ordering her to do it." Sirius chuckled lightly, tapping his ring twice on the desk.
"Narcissa has always been very good at getting what she wants. Maybe stay clear of her for a bit before she drags you into a ball at Malfoy Manor." Pollux said, wincing slightly. No doubt remembering one of the many times his granddaughter had gotten the better out of him. Sirius could mention a dozen times alone and that's only counting his childhood from before he ran away. A genius, Pollux was not. But he had his uses. Decent hand at magic, and most importantly, he's good at doing what he's told. The man had never held any aspirations to ascend to the Black lordship. The quintessential yes man.
"Maybe," Sirius murmured, before he turned steely eyes on Pollux, "But that's for another day, how are you proceeding on the task I set you?" He queried softly.
Pollux played with his whiskey glass, grimacing slightly, "It's not easy…" He began, wilting slightly as Sirius eyes hardened at the ready excuse. "I've managed to contact most of them… And they're willing to sell!" He hurried to get out. To placate Sirius.
"Then what is the problem, because there is one, correct?" Sirius asked, hands tented ahead of him as his eyes pierced through his second grandfather, one who'd not protested once for having his daughter, Walburga - sent away. Not that Sirius would have cared if he did. But it did show the backbone of the man - or the lack of it, to be clear.
"I can't even find the damned Briarwood's to enquire with them if they're willing to sell." Pollux grumbled. Before downing the rest of his whiskey, letting out a deep breath afterwards, avoiding Sirius eyes, "Without their shares, no one can realistically get a majority ownership in the Daily Prophet…"
"I know that, Pollux…" Sirius said with forced calm, "That's why I asked you to be careful…" He should have done this himself, but he was swamped with work, family business and the like - as well as preparations for his political career. He couldn't be everywhere. "Did I not tell you to approach them first, so they wouldn't spook and go into hiding?" He asked, just barely maintaining politeness.
He'd literally given the man point by point instructions!
Pollux winced, running a hand across his jaw nervously, "Ah, that is, I already have a cordial relationship with the Rosenthal family…" He saw Sirius face and hurriedly continued, "They're willing to sell! All of their shares!"
Sirius took a deep breath, he could not afford to turn Pollux into a newt right now, no matter how tempting. "They only own 7 percent of the shares, Pollux. That is why I specifically requested that you contact the Briarwood's, due to them owning the largest set of shares at 35 percent." He frowned, eyes cooly assessing his maternal grandfather, "Am I mistaken, Pollux?"
The man nervously played with his empty glass, "Ah… No you did say that, Sirius. I just thought -"
"It is Lord Black when you're arriving to report failure, Pollux." Sirius interrupted him, aghast at how a man at four decades his senior could fumble such an easy instruction. "I could understand them turning down your inquiry, you can't control all variables after all. But to fail at even finding them because you disobeyed clear instructions and managed to spook them into hiding…" Sirius shook his head disappointedly, "This is a problem of your making."
"They have a daughter at Hogwarts!" Pollux quickly spoke up, even as he sunk in his seat slightly, wary of Sirius growing anger.
"Under Dumbledore's nose… This is your solution?" Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Just… Go… Finalize the deals with the families willing to sell. Quickly, quietly, and with no more foul ups, understood?" He ordered, a growl rising up from his throat at having to now take on this task himself.
Pollux nodded rapidly, looking relieved to have a chance to make up for his mistake, "And the Briarwood's?"
"I will… Deal with finding them…" Sirius ground out, fists clenching at the thought of dealing with Dumbledore.
This couldn't wait however, the Daily Prophet was the key not only to getting elected - but to stay in power afterwards. Even the Wizengamot could be swayed by public opinion eventually, and the Daily Prophet controlled public opinion. Wizards were unbelievably easily led through the daily paper, Sirius couldn't miss the opportunity owning it presented.
Unfortunately many families had shares in the paper, preventing it from a clear dedicated course, and likely why it so easily simply fell under ministry control under Cornelius Fudge in canon - none of the small shareholders wanted to rock the boat too much. The Briarwood's was his best bet. Their 35 percent - together with what promises Pollux had already gotten from several smaller shareholders - would give him a majority. His other option was Malfoy… Who owned 17 percent of the paper. The cost there would be too heavy - not in money, but in what else he'd owe the man for it. If he would even sell. Sirius wouldn't if he was in his position.
Or at least not without heavy concessions, under an unbreakable vow just to ensure it. Sirius was not willing to pay that price.
It wasn't any wonder why the Death Eaters had such easy press for most of Canon - Malfoy owned enough of it, and the Briarwood's had a son who'd been found with the mark as well - and they owed the largest share. Together they held a majority and they'd quashed any questions through the press. That's the power Sirius wanted to hold on his own. The power to control the narrative.
Even in the muggle world, or his own old world… Control of the Media was incredibly beneficial. Even more so however in the magical world, because muggles were naturally skeptical - while magicals were somehow naturally accepting of anything they read.
Obviously the Briarwood's had cottoned on to the Black family being after the paper (Damn you Pollux!) And hid to avoid the pressure. Not that willing to sell then… At least he now knew about it. That information was valuable if nothing else.
And now his only quick way forward was Hogwarts. Which meant Dumbledore. Joy… He couldn't afford to spend the time hunting down the Briarwood's, he needed them found yesterday. So he'd have to do it himself.
He eyed Pollux with hidden distaste, "Don't fail in getting the others bloody well done, have them sign the contracts immediately." He snapped.
Pollux jumped up, eager to get out of the office and get started. As he made his way to the door, Sirius stopped him.
"Remember, it's for the Black family. It's for us. This will put us all on the top." He said seriously, meeting the older man's gaze for but a moment, impressing on him how important this was.
Pollux puffed out his chest, "It will be as you say, Lord Black!" He said, stuffed full of self importance.
Well… Whatever got the job done, Sirius thought, watching Pollux leave. That reminder at the end from him, had likely been necessary, especially with how it immediately got the ponce all puffed up and proud again. It was early in the game yet, they weren't as competent as he'd wish, nor were they fully loyal to him. They were to the concept of family, but if he didn't remind them now and then… They might equate their own wishes with that of the family.
Sirius couldn't allow that. It was his wishes that mattered. His hand on the wand. Or these bigoted lunatics would all muck the country up and make it all worse.
Now he had to figure out how to convince the Briarwood's to sell, after using not so nice means to find them in the first place.
And he'd have to meet with Dumbledore.
What a bother…
Although I could turn it to my advantage…
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As much as he wanted to get started on hunting down the Briarwood's - even though meeting Dumbledore was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now… His schedule did not have an actual hole for the activity right away.
Hours each day was being spent at Gringotts, not only going through all the family assets, but also to grease the wheels somewhat. The goblins had a lot of information about the Ministry of Magic, its budget and department financials and where funds were being diverted - because there were definitely several suspicious trails of galleons like that hidden under normal bureaucracy reports. The goblins were willing to share, for a price. Something he'd have to fix when he took power, because that's just really bad for internal security.
Knowing how much each Auror made just made it laughably easy to figure out how to approach bribing one, or sow discord by letting an Auror know that his partner made so much more, etc.
It really worked out for him right now though. (Even if the Goblins were greedy little shits!) It was not only useful for knowing where all the money was going, so that he could figure out who was corrupt or not.. It allowed him to plan, because before ever taking the seat, he'd already know the budget of all the departments like the back of his hand. He'd be ready to take off running, stopping the grift and institute some actual efficiency and reliability into the system.
Once finally done with Gringotts for the day he could still not make time for a trip to Hogwarts, he'd scheduled an interview, a first attempt at managing his press coverage. Ideally he'd have managed to buy the Prophet first, but he couldn't wait any longer to speak out, he'd never truly expected to have it done within the last few weeks. If he didn't craft his response to the curiosity of the wizarding world - they'd do it for him.
And with Sirius' less than stellar reputation from his Hogwarts years - he couldn't afford to let someone else gain momentum with a different narrative.
Right from Gringotts he swept through Diagon Alley, head held high, wearing robes of the finest Acromantula silk, subtle red and gold accents to the sleeves and collar to hint at his Gryffindor roots. With the help of Narcissa and Cassiopeia he'd styled his hair into a well coiffed silky look. Going with a smart goatee instead of continuing well shaved (Narcissa's idea) - to give him some gravitas and appear older than he was.
People could get over being a former Azkaban inmate, but being young and inexperienced was a deathknell. And that ageist judgment was fixated more on looks and bearing than a number on a page. So he'd prepared accordingly. Although he'd vetoed Narcissa's attempt to color some of his hair gray to further sell an older look. That was just taking it to absurd levels that would just as likely backfire as coming off as fake. Whether Narcissa was trying to help or sabotage him there… Just another question to add to the pile on trying to figure out what she's after.
With only minutes to spare, he entered Diagon Alley's most exclusive restaurant - one he'd bought out for the day, just for the interview. Partly a flex of his monetary resources for all to see - partly because Grimmauld place would not give the right impression, under renovation as it was.
"Lord Black, thank you so much for agreeing to an interview!" The reporter practically gushed out, as soon as he entered the dining room.
Sirius gave her a once over with a suave smile, the Daily Prophet had not sent Rita Skeeter thankfully. He had his own plans for that woman, after all. She was not yet the lead reporter at this time anyway - so this worked out just fine. Considering the twenty-something woman in front of him had an hourglass figure, a mischievous tilt to her rosy lips and bright blue eyes, with wavy blonde hair that fell all the way down her back, Sirius had clearly gotten the right woman for the job.
"It's my pleasure, miss?" He said smoothly, walking up and grasping the reporter's hand, glad to not see a ring anywhere, lifting the hand to his face and giving it a kiss.
"Davies, Violetta Davies." She replied, eyes twinkling as she smirked at him, one eyebrow raised challengingly, "The ladies man reputation still holding strong then, Lord Black?"
Sirius chuckled, "Only for the truly rare women that are worth it, Miss Davies." He said, giving her another appreciative once over, before taking his seat. Only the reporter and him in the dining room. Her photographer was waiting outside for the end of the interview, Sirius had seen him on the way in, lounging in the entryway.
Violetta grinned, taking her own seat, her short aqua robes showcasing quite a lot of her smooth legs as she got situated, "I'm engaged to be married, Lord Black." She said reprovingly, the teasing glint in her eyes not matching her tone.
"So not married yet is what I hear," Sirius said with an over the top wink, and no ring on her finger yet, so likely an arranged marriage then…
"You're incorrigible, it might be best we start the interview before we get too sidetracked." Violetta said, lips curving pleasantly into a warm smile.
Sirius gave her a small nod, indicating he was ready, eyes taking in the beautiful reporter, drinking her in. Someone at the Daily Prophet was pretty clever. The old him would likely indeed slip up something, too distracted by a pretty face. And pretty everything (Because damn!) Sirius however could appreciate her just fine and remain in control of exactly how he needed this interview to go.
…Probably.
Violetta put a brightly coloured quill to her notepad, "So, everyone's dying to know, what are your thoughts on everything that's happened?" She asked, her tone turning more professional, even as her eyes sparkled with interest.
Sirius hoped it wasn't entirely for the great story she'd have from him. He considered himself quite the catch after all.
"It's been eye opening, Violetta," He said honestly, keeping his face open and earnest. "I've seen the best and the worst of our world, and come to the realization we need to do better."
Violetta eyed him thoughtfully as she quickly took notes, Sirius was glad to see she didn't take shortcuts nor did she use a quick quotes quill for this, "That is an interesting way to put it, Lord Black. Is that a shot at the Ministry for their mishandling of your trial and the previous lack of one?"
Sirius wagged a finger, smirking widely, "Now don't put words in my mouth, sweetheart," He shrugged, "I don't hold a grudge," He lied blatantly, "The Ministry were in a difficult position during the aftermath of the war, mistakes happened. It was not ideal, and I paid a price, yes. But I believe the Ministry as a whole, is after nothing but the best for all of us."
Violetta tilted her head slightly, studying him with an enigmatic smile, "That is… Very generous of you, Lord Black. Many have raked the Ministry over the coals for the mishandling of you in particular, but all trials over that time as well." She tapped her notepad with a long nail, "Are you saying you support the Ministry and their position in this scandal?"
Sirius leaned back, giving off a laid-back vibe, "Now, there is a difference between the scramble and mix-up of the war, and what happened for my long delayed trial." He paused to let Violetta catch up with her note taking, it also gave him a moment to ogle her some more. "The Ministry as a whole is doing a good job for the magical world, even in these difficult times, they can be trusted to do what's right." Sirius smirked a little as Violetta sent him a skeptical look even as she continued taking notes. "However, the actions of its Minister must be called into question. The Ministry once advised of the mistake - worked diligently on correcting it with my trial, but Millicent Bagnold seemed determined to bulldoze through her own people to impede justice - an oddity don't you think?"
Violetta's eyes brightened and she leaned forward slightly, "The Minister went over her own Ministry? Is that what you're saying, Lord Black?"
"I can only speak to what I saw," Sirius said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "The people working at the Ministry - the backbone of our great institution, did their jobs excellently. The only one who seemed intent on breaking procedure, impeding justice and weirdly intent on ruining one of the sacred twenty eight - was Bagnold."
Sirius knew Millicent Bagnold was in a precarious situation right now, he needed to make her either hand in the towel or force a vote of no confidence. To strike while the iron was hot and he was still on everyone's tongues, he didn't want to wait for her term to end with her retirement. A campaign would take months either way - but the sooner he was in the race the better his odds. And playing benevolent, forgiving of the injustice against him, supportive of the Ministry as a whole - it would sell him well, while dumping the whole mess on Bagnold.
He could have sunk Bartemius Crouch even further as well… But Sirius was seeking the man's support, just as an extra lever to gain power. So he was holding off on destroying the man in the hopes they could come to an understanding. If not he could always remind the public later that the man had been in charge of tossing Sirius into Azkaban without a trial. And Crouch was politically astute enough to realize the situation. The man would play ball.
And if he didn't… Well, Sirius knew what was hiding at his house. Crouch could be removed at any point he felt like it.
"Are those words expressing an intent to run for the position, Lord Black?" Violetta asked, obviously she was an intelligent woman, she'd immediately picked up on what he was doing. And eagerly jotted it all down. Hopefully without any negative spin.
"If the people of Britain would wish me to serve, I would of course be honored to serve that call." Sirius answered, not confirming anything, but markedly not denying it either. "I think questions need to be asked either way of the Minister's office, before they color the hard working members of the rest of the Ministry of Magic under the same brush."
Violetta tittered slightly, looking delighted at what she was getting, "Let's move on to your recent appointment to head of the Black family…"
Sirius was sure she'd return to the ministry questions, but likely wanted to move another route to throw him off and perhaps get something more out of him when she returned to the subject. Sirius wouldn't falter, of course.
Sirius spent two hours speaking of his family, a sanitized version of his own history, and carefully selected praise for certain people within the Ministry and without - whose support could be useful.
His reporter promised that she had enough material to keep writing articles about him and everything he'd spoken about for the entire week at least. The perfect start to his PR blitz to showcase himself to both the Ministry and the public.
"Is there any way I can thank you for your diligent work, Miss Davies? You've truly captured everything I had to say." Sirius asked as they wrapped up, photographs having finished off the interview.
He wasn't below bribing a woman if it helped him.
Violetta Davies eyed him, a slight blush dusting her cheeks as she was running a hand through her hair, "I need to collate my notes at home…" She bit her lip invitingly, "I could use another set of… Hands…" She hinted suggestively.
"What kind of interviewee would I be if I didn't offer to assist." Sirius immediately offered, waggling his eyebrows. Surprised but pleasantly so.
Sure he needed to go to Hogwarts… But some things were just too important.
4 hours later…
Sirius ran a hand lightly over a shapely naked hip, letting his breathing settle down. Either he'd been doing things wrong in his old life - or magicals had some extra benefits to them that he would be happy to explore further in the future. Either that or all the potions he was on for his treatment, the ones giving him so much energy lately - counted as doping. Because he didn't remember his liaisons at Hogwarts being this insane.
"Merlin! Circe! Morgana! Fuck!" Violetta Davies moaned tiredly, not for the first time. Her sweat covered body laying limply on her bed. "Your reputation was well earned…" She mumbled out, already slipping into sleep after their extended liaison.
Sirius snorted quietly, keeping quiet so as to not disturb her rest as she slowly slipped into sleep. He'd been holding on with his fingertips to just survive - as the lovely Miss Davies rode him into oblivion in every way. If anyone deserved a godly reputation here it was her.
He might have given some of his tasks a miss for this, but it had certainly been enjoyable - and he no longer had any worries on what kind of slant the stories about him would have, even if that had not been the reason he'd taken her to bed.
Just a very nice side benefit.
Dumbledore could fuck off for one night.
Sirius laid down, just inhaling the scent of a happy coupling, cuddling into Violetta to sleep, for once not worrying about politics or threats, just enjoying the moment.
It was the best sleep he'd had since entering this world.
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Two days later.
"Really? Sirius… Really?" Narcissa said with a disgusted huff as she slapped a magazine against his chest, having entered his study full of irritation and something he couldn't quite identify.
"Hello to you too, Cissy." He said with annoyance, "What is this?"
"News coverage of the great Lord Black." She drawled, nose scrunching up in distaste.
Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow, he'd already seen the first article in the Prophet, it had been perfect. It encapsulated his good qualities - emphasizing his generosity, forgiveness and belief in the Ministry, while still taking the Minister to task.
He grabbed the magazine, peering at it, Ugh, Witch Weekly…
The headline screamed,
Sirius Black, sex god? The Merlin of the carnal arts?
"Well… All publicity is good publicity…?" He managed to get out, weakly. Merlin damn it, Violetta!
Narcissa put a hand to her forehead, eyes closed as she muttered expletives to herself. "Forget getting the Burke's onboard, their spare is arranged to marry Violetta Davies… Or was…"
Well…
Can't say I regret it.
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The same day as such an article was released into the world was probably not the best time to go to Hogwarts, but he had an open timeslot that morning until after lunch due to a canceled appointment with the Shafiqs. The polite thing to do would be to send an owl and schedule an appointment with the headmaster of course.
That's why Sirius simply apparated to Hogsmeade. Politeness was overrated. To his annoyance, he was now too well recognized - whether through the trial broadcast or articles - or witch weekly, ugh - so he failed completely at sneaking into Honeydukes. He'd been forced to leave, duck into an alley, and utilize the disillusionment charm to get into the back of Honeydukes and the secret tunnel that would lead him into Hogwarts.
If he had to deal with Dumbledore, he'd do it while keeping the man off balance with his sudden appearance. He was, after all, coming here for an entirely different reason than to talk to the old headmaster - so the confusion and spectacle of his sudden arrival during breakfast would certainly aid him in that. Hopefully the girl would be at breakfast, he doubted he'd be able to manage an excuse for why he'd need to visit the Slytherin dungeons.
He kept the disillusionment charm going as he entered into Hogwarts proper, walking down towards the Great Hall, looking around in nostalgia. Halfway there, he took a detour to hit Filch's office, securing the Marauders map quickly, depositing it in his pouch. Not something he'd have much of a use for, other than perhaps finding the Briarwood girl if she wasn't where she was supposed to be. But he was loath to leave a potential tool in the hands of anyone not his. It had been a collaboration between all the Marauders - so Sirius couldn't recreate it fully on his own - perhaps having the original would allow him to entreat the Unspeakables to make a similar map for him for the Ministry.
If he could trust they wouldn't make a damn copy for themselves or whoever else wanted one, of course.
Perhaps he'd need to hire Remus… If he could get over the wish to punch him really hard in the face first…
Thanks to his disillusionment, he was not caught by the paintings or any of the ghosts, leaving Dumbledore no warning of his arrival. Well, unless the old goat was paying particular attention to the wards - considering canon - Sirius doubted the man kept that close of a hold on them. In canon he hadn't even been aware whenever Sirius had broken in as a crazed escapee, so why would he know now?
He canceled the charm just as he walked up to the Great Hall, stepping through, fully resplendent in his full Lord Black regalia. "Now this brings back memories!" He called out loudly.
The low chatter that had been sounding across the hall stopped as students stared at the stranger who'd suddenly appeared amongst them. The head table had a mixture of reactions, Snape snarling in disgust, the minute widening of his eyes and whiteness of his face showed his absolute shock at the sudden appearance of Sirius. Most of the rest of the staff simply appeared confused, but dear old Minnie looked like she was having a heart attack, holding her chest and staring at him with a pale face and glistening eyes.
Dumbledore stood up from where he'd already been half rising out his throne like chair. "Sirius… What an unexpected surprise, but not, I think, an unwelcome one." His smile looked strained to Sirius's eyes however.
Sirius let his eyes sweep across the hall, pleased to find the Briarwood girl at the Slytherin table, a prefect as well, good for her. He started walking towards the head table, just coincidentally taking the way by the Slytherin table. He needed a distraction, his wand already in his hand hidden by his sleeve. Luckily he was very good at distractions, especially when he had someone so easily riled up to play with.
"Oh, I thought I'd visit my old stomping grounds." Sirius said loudly, plastering on an impressive sneer as he looked at the head table, "Imagine my surprise when I enter and immediately lose my appetite due to the amount of grease in Snivellus hair," Sirius continued mockingly, seeing the other man rising, enraged, Sirius fired the finishing touch, "Who did you get on your knees for to be allowed back here, Snape?"
The Gryffindor table erupted in laughter about the same time the Slytherin one erupted in protest - Snape firing off a spell in Sirius' direction immediately, shouting expletives. Dumbledore immediately shielded it, turning towards his potions professor in admonishment, as Sirius was right by the students - the headmaster could hardly let the head of Slytherin house risk the Slytherins to his spellfire. At the same time Minerva tried to settle the Gryffindors, no one noticed Sirius quietly cutting and summoning several strands of hair from the Briarwood girl, not even the girl herself, the students too busy watching the spectacle of Dumbledore vs Snape at the head table.
Sirius casually slipped his bounty into his pockets, wrapped in a handkerchief, turning innocent eyes on Dumbledore, his smirk ruining the look.
"Perhaps we should move this to my office, Lord Black." Dumbledore said reprovingly, as if stressing his title would make him behave more appropriately.
Sirius looked around, taking particular glee in the fact Snape had actually been disarmed by the headmaster. The man spluttering in rage, apparently reappearing in the man's life so soon after their Hogwarts years made the man even more unhinged then he'd be by canon times. "Yes, perhaps it's for the best, Albus." Sirius said easily, before giving Snape a small wave, "No hard feelings, friend, I was simply surprised to see you here, what with your… History…." He said with fake cheer.
And if his comments made the students look into Snape a bit more deeply and discovering his Death Eater past… Well…
Sirius wouldn't mind creating some difficulties for the man - not really due to their shared animosity, but for the simple reason of the extra headaches it would give Dumbledore who'd have to step up his defense of the man if enough students protested - or enough parents did.
Snape seemed more surprised at his more cheerful comments than anything said or done so far, glaring at him with a confused furrow in his brow. No doubt the man could pick out what he was doing, for all that he was a dumb bastard, he was indeed intelligent. Apparently Sirius showcasing some cunning was baffling the man, however.
"Minerva I trust you'll have the students in hand?" Dumbledore asked his deputy, not waiting for an answer before making his way towards the Great Hall doors, indicating for Sirius to follow. Funnily enough he still had Snape's wand. From the dark scowl on the potions professor's face, he definitely blamed Sirius for his lack of self control.
It was cute. How the petty man thought Sirius had any time or concern about their little rivalry anymore. Severus Snape was so far beneath his concern now, other than perhaps as a tool to inconvenience Dumbledore.
"Mister Black… It's good to see you." McGonagall called out, eyes soft, a departure from her usual stern features, before she returned to wrangling the students.
"Minnie." Sirius returned neutrally, while inside he felt a significant degree of anger, he knew that showcasing it was foolish. So neutrality it was, giving the appearance that he wasn't truly angry. Just disappointed.
Soon enough he was following Dumbledore down familiar paths. How often had he been taken to the Headmaster's office in his time at Hogwarts? More than any other student he'd bet. They walked in silence, Dumbledore appearing in a somber mood more suited for the privacy of his office - and Sirius not even wanting to have this conversation yet, so in no rush to start talking with the old traitor, for all that he needed to pretend he was at Hogwarts for this particular conversation only.
The silence persisted except for a quietly muttered password to enter the Headmaster's office when they arrived. Even as they settled themselves in the office - the Headmaster sinking into his chair looking every year of his age, the silence remained.
"Not going to say a word?" Sirius broke the silence finally, after several minutes of both men sitting in silence, being peered at curiously by the portraits of previous headmasters.
Dumbledore looked up and met Sirius' eyes, a tremulous smile on his face, "I am lost for words, for once, I must say." He admitted softly, "How does one apologize for such egregious mistakes that cost so much."
Sirius' face hardened, his lips in a thin grim line, "You don't." He said bluntly, "There is nothing you can say that will make up for suffering Azkaban…" One word from you would have been enough for a trial… He thought, with a spark of anger boiling inside him.
Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, looking pained. "Indeed, as I thought." He sighed deeply, "My mistakes, as ever, end up with grave consequences for the innocent, I am happy to see you recovered, Sirius."
It annoyed Sirius that Dumbledore seemed truthfully happy for him, especially with the gall of the man to try the - great men make great mistakes spiel on him. "Are you? It seemed at my trial you were perfectly happy to allow Bagnold to put me back in Azkaban without a word in my defense…" He fired back coldly, eyes flashing with his building anger.
"As Chief Warlock I am limited in my duties, Sirius, as long as they weren't breaking any laws I could not intervene." Dumbledore said quietly, "They might have been skirting around the boundaries of the law, but as the Minister of Magic, Bagnold had the right to act as she did, and I could not stop her within the parameters of my position."
Sirius let out a short barking laugh, "Yes, the man running an illegal vigilante group couldn't possibly contemplate bending the rules a little." Sirius' lips curled into a snarl, as he leant forward in his chair, "Don't try to dissemble to me, Dumbledore! If it had been Remus, or James or even Snivellus, you would have gone to bat, rules and laws be damned!"
He wasn't blinded any longer, he could see now that him being a Black would forever make him the black sheep on the side of the light. Dumbledore had constantly stretched the law to protect his people, whether through his position as Chief Warlock or as Headmaster. So his excuse didn't pass muster. He saw now that protecting him during that whole debacle with Snape and Remus wasn't about him, not truly. It was protecting Remus and himself! Because if it got out that Albus Dumbledore had allowed a werewolf into Hogwarts and a student almost got bit…
Dumbledore straightened his back, some sternness making an appearance on his visage, "I do not discriminate between my students, Sirius. You are all deserving of the protection inherent in our laws."
Sirius snorted, a sardonic look on his face, "I didn't come here to cure you of your delusions, Albus…" Because the old man surely was going senile if he thought his actions in any way constituted equality, in law or otherwise.
Dumbledore sighed wearily, looking apologetic, "I'm sorry, my boy, I've fallen into bad habits, too used to having to defend my every action that I am doing it even now, when in your case, my actions are indefensible."
"I'm not here for pity, or apologies." Sirius said bitterly, managing with some difficulty, to quash most of his anger. It would not do to lose his cool any further in this situation.
"My apologies for distracting you from your purpose here, then. What can I do for you, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked, peering at him curiously through his half moon glasses.
Sirius took a moment to ensure he could remain calm, before he spoke, "I'm here for two reasons, Albus…" He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, "The corruption and failures of the Ministry has incentivized me to make an effort to fix it - I'll be running for Minister when Bagnold is done." Let him believe I'm waiting for her term to be done - instead of pushing her out the door.
Dumbledore seemed lost for words for a moment, honest surprise on his face. "An admirable reason to start a political career." He said politely, still seemingly reeling from the revelation.
"My intention is to close out the loopholes allowing for abuses of power so visible in my trial, and to protect the general public from Ministry overreach." Sirius stated carefully. "To build an environment where something like the Death Eaters can not happen again." There… That should be inoffensive enough for the old coot…
Dumbledore smiled warmly, eyes twinkling, "It sounds like you have the right idea, Sirius, certainly you'd be an improvement in the Ministry. Are you looking for my support?" He inquired curiously.
It was an unfortunate fact that Dumbledore's support in a campaign would be an incredible boon - almost in itself enough to get elected. The Wizengamot votes that followed him were worth even more than the slavishly devoted public. The public after all could be twisted by the media, the Wizengamot members would not as easily abandon him. If Sirius had to have this meeting, he might as well attempt to gain an advantage, as distasteful as dealing with Dumbledore was while he still had incredibly mixed feelings on the man.
"Your support would be helpful." Sirius admitted quietly, "If it is a means to apologize, I don't want it, *He warned, "Only if you truly believe I could do good should you support my nomination." There, that should lay it up perfectly for you…
Dumbledore smiled brightly, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out as his demeanor brightened, "Of course my boy, I wouldn't make such a decision based on feelings of guilt, you are a deserving candidate on your own."
Sirius doubted guilt played no role, it's why he'd use this occasion to push for support after all. While Dumbledore still felt off kilter from Sirius appearance and his own hand in his troubles. "So I can count on your support?" He asked.
Dumbledore nodded slowly, "I don't usually involve myself in the elections," He admitted, "Having one of our own in the Minister's seat would be invaluable in the future, however." He smiled genially, "I'll certainly offer my support on your new path, and I must say it's admirable how you're focusing on bettering our world after all you've been through."
It took quite the effort for Sirius to keep a straight face at that. One of ours… Like hell he was still in any way affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore. But fine, let the old man believe that if it got him the position in the end. "I had a lot of time for introspection in Azkaban," Sirius said mildly, pushing further on the guilt aspect, "I realized that I needed to be more like James, willing to do more to help our world, take some responsibility."
Dumbledore looked emotional at that, eyes glistening slightly as he seemed to take every word Sirius said to heart. "James would be proud, Sirius." He said warmly.
"I hope so…" Sirius agreed somberly. Both men sat in silence for a minute, lost in memories. Sirius was just glad Dumbledore was buying what he was selling. Although he intended to create a better, more equal world for them all, he doubted James would approve of the methods he was willing to use. Then again, considering what Dumbledore would do to his son in canon… Perhaps James wouldn't be as disapproving as he thought. Speaking of…
"The second reason I'm here… Where is Harry?" Sirius asked, eyes intent on the old Headmaster. How are you going to play this, Albus?
Dumbledore froze, one hand half raised to stroke his beard, he regained his composure quickly, but that pause had been a clear sign of how unwelcome that question had been.
"He's safe, Sirius, have no worries about that… I'm not sure a road towards the minister's seat is suitable for young Harry to be involved in however…" Dumbledore said slowly, eyes cautious and wary. The earlier warmth quickly dissipated - leaving tension in the air.
"I am his godfather, Albus. James and Lily trusted me to look after him." Sirius said sharply.
Dumbledore stroked his beard slowly as he mulled that over, finally speaking, a note of censure in his voice, "You already reneged on that responsibility once, Sirius…"
Sirius clenched his fists, working hard to remain calm, Dumbledore did not just go there! He'd had no idea he'd end up in Azkaban! And Harry had been safe with Hagrid. Truthfully, yes, he now realized he made the wrong decision, the power of hindsight and memories of another world.. But for Dumbledore to dare use that against him to try and keep Harry for himself! No matter that he was still very ambivalent at the prospect of raising the kid. He couldn't do worse than the Dursley's.
"You have no legal avenue to stop me, I'm the kids godfather." Sirius stated coldly, staring down his old Headmaster, eyes flinty and hard.
Dumbledore sagged in his seat slightly, looking at him forlornly, "Would you truly fight me on this, Sirius, the boy is happy with his family, you'd only upset his routine, he's safe." Dumbledore stressed, "I can't support a candidate that would bring the boy-who-lived into the spotlight again, risking his life."
Oh you magnificent bastard! Sirius thought, pissed the bloody hell off, but impressed despite it all. Dumbledore had not only just tied his support for Sirius ambitions to leaving the boy-who-lived where he was, but also hinted at the risks to his life if he was thrust back into the spotlight. That said… He could use this…
Sirius pretended to hesitate, looking like he was mulling over things, "There would be increased risks to his life…" He agreed looking sour and upset at the notion.
Dumbledore immediately latched on, spotting a weakness, "It would be far safer for you to reconnect when he enters Hogwarts, he'd be safe with his family, happy, and you'd still be able to be his godfather." He smiled, eyes twinkling along merrily, "And it would allow you to skip the potty training and various other less pleasant aspects of raising a child." He pointed out, working hard to influence the Sirius he'd known, against the idea of raising the boy.
Sirius growled low in his throat, standing up abruptly and pacing in front of the Headmaster's desk, he turned his eyes onto the headmaster, "You guarantee his safety?" He asked, looking like he's being swayed.
Dumbledore looked deadly serious as he leaned forward, eyes firm, "I give you my word, my boy. Nothing will happen to the lad on my watch."
You're so full of shite! Sirius thought. But this had its own advantages. Once he was Minister he could just adopt the kid no matter what Dumbledore thought. And in the middle of campaigning was hardly the time to try and raise a kid. Perhaps a cold rationalization, but Sirius needed the Minister's post to start making a better world. Harry Potter remaining for another six months to a year with the Dursley's would not overly change much. And he could still use his position as godfather of the boy-who-lived - even if he wasn't in possession of Harry.
"If I lose the race for the Minister's post, I suppose I can revisit raising the kid." He mused out loud, knowing he just bought himself Dumbledore's eager participation in getting him elected.
"If that is what you think is best, my boy." Dumbledore said, eyes calculating. No doubt already drawing up contingency plans. Sirius knew that there was no way Dumbledore would allow Harry Potter to become a ward of the Black family without a fight. No doubt he was already planning for the scenario of Sirius winning the post, as well as if he lost.
Either way, Sirius had to be realistic, this was a fight he wouldn't win now. When he'd be Minister of magic he'd be able to force it through - but right now Dumbledore held the power. All the good press Sirius had right now could easily be twisted back to stories of mental illness from Azkaban and the like - If Dumbledore gave a push. He was still incredibly influential in the wizarding world.
Sirius sat back down, letting an explosive sigh out, "Alright, Albus, you win for now, I don't want to uproot the kid if he's happy where he is…''He said unhappily. "What are your thoughts on the race for Minister, have you heard about anyone preparing to run?"
Dumbledore happily switched the subject to the Ministry, Sirius listening intently as the old man shared information on his most likely competition.
Harry Potter would have to wait. Sirius felt bad about it, but it was worth it… If Sirius could build a world where the kid would never have to fight for his life - another possible year in less than ideal living conditions - would be a small price to pay.
Once he was Minister, and once he held the Daily Prophet in his hands… He'd do what he needed and Dumbledore could fuck right off.
He'd work with the man for now. Still, in his gut he could feel the embers burning, his anger at the man simmering.
There would be a reckoning one day.
A Black never forgot.
Never forgave.
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Authors note:
Sirius is dancing on a tightrope trying to de-radicalize his family somewhat - while still needing them to be Black's to the outside world to be able to complete the tasks he has for them. Narcissa will be around alot in this story, so you'll eventually get to see some Lucius and Draco as well. Sirius will continue to try to pull them into the light, working on Narcissa.
Narcissa on the other hand is working on the best path forward for her and her family, which doesn't necessarily match Sirius' vision at the moment.
And yes he is still Sirius Black at his core even with the amalgamation of the two - so a nice pair of tits is still likely to draw much of his attention, as seen. Fanon has him as one hell of a playboy and I couldn't help but play on that a little.
Chapter seven is out on Patreon, should be available in few days.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
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"Barty, Barty, Barty, old buddy, old chum!" Sirius exclaimed with fake joviality, as he casually broke into his office, ignoring his secretaries' loud protests.
Honestly, the woman works for Barty Crouch Sr, she should be thankful Sirius was here to inject some sort of excitement - in her, no doubt dull and mindless, parchment work filled life.
The office suited the old man, even if it wasn't as decorated as his old DMLE office had been, not that Sirius had been there often during his brief stint as an Auror, (For some reason Barty Crouch hadn't called on Sirius for bodyguard duty, ever, back in the day.) It was very drab, very gray. Plenty of old people stuffy stuff around, things to make one look important that had no real use - mixed with things with real use that no one important would ever use. Mostly because it was too practical and not traditional enough, which really made one wonder why they bothered to display it in their office. People really loved their window dressing in the Ministry and the Ancient families, especially things they'd never actually touch or understand, but it was expensive so they had to have it. Not that the two, (Ministry and the Noble families) were really that far apart. You couldn't shoot off a tickling spell without hitting someone from an ancient family in the Ministry, even if it's only that second cousin stuck in the records department where he wouldn't hump the goats anymore.
Presumably. There is a spell for turning an inanimate object to a goat after all. And the records department is pretty deep and dark, with few visitors…
The fact so many Ancient and Noble families had so many relatives at the Ministry was an achievement in itself really, with how many families had died out over the centuries. Sirius was pretty sure he could call whoever he next met while walking down the halls, cousin, and have at least a thirty-forty percent chance it would be right.
His marriage prospects, were he to go look for them, likely held at least a third of the prospects that were way too closely related to him. The magical world was basically Alabama, with better dental care and people wearing robes instead of a tank top.
Barty Crouch Sr, was, perhaps, Sirius thought, displeased at his presence, it was hard for him to tell, because Barty's face always looked like that anyway. The severe looking man sat ramrod straight behind his desk, robes perfectly pressed, lips turned downwards on his wrinkled grayish face, underneath his (likely measured everyday) perfect Hitler mustache. "Mister Black, I don't believe you have an appointment." Barty said icily, his hard eyes actually showing some honest to Merlin emotion, sure it was hatred, but Sirius just lost twenty galleons because of that, turned out Barty was human after all. Drats.
He should know better than to bet Cissy, really. But he'd been sure Barty didn't have feelings. Considering what he'd done to his son, it really wasn't a risky bet, he'd thought. Maybe hatred was his go to, then?
Sirius grinned irreverently as he snapped his fingers in the air mockingly, before pointing at the grouchy old man, voice chiding as he corrected him. "Ah, ah, one must always use the proper titles when addressing another wizard of higher stature, correct?" Not that Sirius would follow such bull in his meetings, that's not why he was here either, but it would amuse him to make Barty do so.
Because now that he'd pointed it out, the man was probably incapable of not following proper customs.
Crouch was from a notable family himself, but notably not as storied and ancient as the Black's.
Traditions, what was it but a set of silly rules that allowed someone unscrupulous that disregarded them - to know exactly how to weave a web around those hidebound fools. Sirius could appreciate some traditions, he was a Black after all. But he'd never allow them to set his behavior or actions against necessity or the greater good.
Sirius continued to grin as Barty Crouch, ground his teeth together, his pedantic worldview warring with his intense dislike of Sirius himself no doubt. Even if Sirius being found innocent hadn't been another kick to the nuts of Barty's career - he'd likely hate Sirius anyway, just based on his ability to actually enjoy life.
Or the way he made a mockery out of him, his way of life and everything he did and stood for. That could play a part, too. And the constant mocking. That probably had an effect. Hitting on his wife that one time back when he was a new Auror… Probably added to it.
To be fair, Barty was really easy to wind up.
"What is the purpose of your… " The man grimaced even more severely for a moment, "Visit… Lord Black." Barty finished, his distaste obvious to Sirius. Even if his face remained mostly impassive and his posture was corpse stiff and unmoving.
James had once theorized the man was an inferi that just groomed himself well enough to pass as a human. Lily had smacked him for it, but hadn't been able to hide her giggles.
Sirius had once gotten a two day suspension for spelling that theory onto every bathroom wall in the DMLE. It probably would have been longer, but graffiti as a rule, had a two day suspension as the highest available punishment (for purebloods). And Barty did follow the rules as a core tenet of his existence.
Except the no unforgivables one or the no breaking people out of jail one, apparently those rules are more optional?
Sirius flopped into a chair in front of Barty's desk, his grin widening as Barty's glare intensified in chilliness, brrr. "Barty, I can call you, Barty, right?" Sirius said, rushing right past the opening of the tosser's mouth, where he was no doubt rushing to say something ridiculous like, certainly not, or, you may address me as Director Crouch. Yeah right, "I need a favor, mate."
Look at that, his eloquence had rendered the man speechless, with his literal jaw dropped and everything, he even had an eye twitch. "Are you having a stroke? Is your nurse around? You old folks got one of those, right? To help you get around, and such?" Sirius blithely continued to piss the man off. In some ways, it's how Barty Crouch Sr expected him to act, so he was almost obliged to entertain himself thusly, and in others, it was much easier to deal with the man when he was knocked straight out of his comfort zone.
Considering that the only times in his life that Barty Crouch Sr would ever get a hard on about something - was for the rules, and that he probably measured said hard ons to make sure they were a lawfully and societally approved erection to boot - It would be of no benefit to Sirius to hold a calm and logical discussion based only on facts. He needed to piss Barty off, so he'd use something else other than ice cold logic for once.
Just as he saw fury building up in Crouch's face, Sirius interrupted again, the director of International Cooperation didn't even seem to notice that his nails dug into his desk as Sirius talked over his attempt to speak, "You see, mate, we really are just the same you and I." Sirius said - with a butter won't melt in my mouth kind of smile, "We're forces for stability and order, people that understand that the Ministry must be a stable and unwavering institution, or we lose the ability to properly guide the British people."
Sirius propensity for bullshit truly was his number two most useful attribute, number one being his suave charm and good looks, of course.
Sirius finally let silence reign long enough for Crouch to get a word in, and the man immediately did so, face reddening, voice harsh, "Stability? Lord Black, I fail to see how you are an advocate of that! Order? Don't make me laugh!"
A funny thing to say, Sirius almost thought the man had actually told a joke. Because everyone knew Barty didn't laugh.
Sirius laughed easily enough, showing Barty how it's done, "Oh, you think highly of me Barty, but no, I might be able to fix the problems of magical Britain, but making you laugh? That's beyond any of us mere mortals."
Barty scoffed, slapping a palm down on the desk in front of him, looking for a moment surprised at his own reaction, before he soldiered on, "Lord Black, I am not sure why you are here, other then to jest at my expense, but I am a very busy man." Unlike you, his disapproving stare seemed to say, "So get to the point!" He almost growled out.
Barty was no doubt aware of Sirius goals, for all his faults, he was a consummate political animal. Just one without the actual humanity to lead humans.
He'd have made for a terrible Minister. Effective perhaps. But terrible.
Sirius smiled pleasantly, he had him right where he wanted him, fired up and actually emoting. "Say, Barty, you know how playboy's like me are fickle, how about when I win, I get you to run stuff for me?" He said, lounging in his chair, "You can be my successor too I guess, I don't really want the top hat for too long after all, us kissing and making up will look great for both of us!"
Barty froze almost imperceptibly, before he gave Sirius a penetrating stare, "You expect me to believe th-"
Sirius interrupted him, enjoying himself immensely, because fuck this guy, "I don't like you, mate, you don't like anything. So that's almost like having something in common. Think about it, I'm the easy choice, and if you're on my team, you're in with it when I win, aye?"
Left unsaid was of course the threat that Sirius Black winning the Minister's seat would be, while seeing Barty Crouch Sr as an enemy. It wasn't very appealing to said enemy. Sirius was sure Barty could easily pick up on such subtext.
Like he'd said, Barty might be useless as a human being, but a politician? He was that down to his bones.
"Your win is far from a foregone conclusion, Lord Black." Barty sniped grouchily, but Sirius could see that there was some thinking going on behind all those rulebooks stamped into his brain.
If Sirius was to just offer up any kind of cooperation cold, Barty wouldn't even need to think before rejecting it. Political animal or not, the man was not fond of Sirius or how he'd absolutely tanked any chance at a comeback. Now, now he was all fired up already, which made it easier to connect to old ambitions and feelings instead of just cold thinking.
"With you behind me, you know we're the frontrunners, and with your connections and links to the old boys club around here, you'd set the stage for me and you know it. Come on Barty, don't you want your nice cushy reputation back?" Sirius wheedled, purposefully showing a light measure of need. That he needed Barty's help.
Everyone liked feeling needed, or in Barty's case… Feel superior. Poor uneducated Lord Black coming to get the superior politicians help… Or whatever that old fart thought in his head right now, as he ruminated over Sirius offer.
Narcissa had helped him plan for the meeting. Because Sirius hadn't been there, (for obvious reasons) for the man's fall, and therefore he wasn't perfectly up to date on the man's new life. Without her help this meeting would have likely been played too straight, funnily enough. But Narcissa had pushed hard on needing to unbalance Crouch and also to let him see Sirius as a bit of a loose cannon. Someone to be taken advantage of, because he'd inevitably fall once he crossed the finish line.
Only question was playing it in a way where Crouch would take the short term risk of getting involved, the risk being the possibility (in his eyes) that Sirius would flame out before the election. And not come off as too much of a risk where Crouch wouldn't even play at all. Fizzling out before the election was preferable to running and losing after all.
Not that he would flame out before the game even started. But Crouch wasn't a betting man usually, that was part of his problem actually. And part of why he was so useful as a tool to other people who worried about Sirius stability. Barty Crouch in his corner would silence the majority of his possible detractors.
The question was now, had he thrown enough bait to make Barty bite?
"What… Exactly do you have in mind?" Barty asked reluctantly. Looking like he'd taken a bite of something rather unpleasant.
Sirius grinned. And to think, he didn't even have to bring out all the bribes he had planned for just in case. Or the threats.
Oh, Barty, Barty, Barty, you really should have just thrown me out of this office… He thought, his gaze cold, beneath his playboy veneer. Barty would be useful, but not someone Sirius would allow any real influence in his Ministry.
You'll help me get elected, then it's curtains for you….
He'd use the old boys club and high level bureaucracy circles to gain an edge, but those kinds of people were not proponents for equality. Not really. They'd talk the talk quite often. But when they said equality, they meant equality for them only.
There was no doubt in his mind that they would have to go.
After they've helped him win, of course.
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Millicent Bagnold growled angrily as she stalked down the hallway in the bowels of the Ministry, her emotions spiraling enough that her wand sent sparks flying in the air. She startled, looking wildly around, but there was no one around at the moment to see it. She hadn't accidentally set off her wand since her Hogwarts years for Merlin's sake! It was embarrassing!
Why in Circe's bloody tits did that fool Black suddenly find political ambition!? She groused mentally. And how did he keep getting into her Ministry and walk around unhindered without anyone even giving her a heads up!?
Her career was at its zenith, but she had been about to go out on a good note, retiring in good standing. She'd won the war with He-who-must-not-be-named! Led the Ministry to victory. Her! And thanks to the galleons she'd collected from donations of those amongst the noble families that had been led astray, and therefore had needed to pay reparations (to her) instead of being sent to Azkaban - she had a cushy retirement to look forward to. She'd have been sent off with accolades and the public's adoration.
She would have gone down in the annals as one of the most important Ministers in the history of the nation!
They might even have built a statue to mark her leadership during the country's darkest time! How often did a minister survive a Dark Lord? Let alone defeat him? Granted, she acknowledged quietly in her own mind, it was the Potter boy that had actually done the defeating, but she'd been the one in charge, she deserved her fair share!
And now, thanks to that son of a bitch that the Black's threw away like so much garbage, her reputation was in tatters, her legacy tarnished, her retirement was now more akin to running into hiding!
Bones was even talking about investigating where all the donations to 'charity' had gone! The horrid ungrateful bitch! Millicent should have kept Barty in the position even with his indiscretions, at least that man had some Merlin damn loyalty!
She'd been almost done, on her way out, so she'd picked Bones, a notable straight shooter, to replace Barty in the DMLE. With the intention - that with only just shy of 3 years left on her term at the time, and nothing more to do other than take a victory lap, her successor would have to deal with that problem, not her!
She'd purposely dumped a whole load of parchment work on Bones' department to keep her busy for a few years, so why was she stepping up now?
And damn that wily slippery animal Dumbledore too, who suddenly wouldn't take a floo call or send anything but pithy platitudes in his letters, when he answered at all. The last letter she'd gotten from the old headmaster had the temerity to offer her a job! sending her an application form for the defense against the dark arts position! She was on her way out, not senile!
If he'd only shut down Moody in that damnable trial, this all wouldn't have even happened in the first place, she'd almost thought he'd planned this whole thing for his own push, but the old man wasn't quite the poker player he thought he was, and the shock on his face had been real, Millicent could tell.
You didn't climb up the ranks in the Ministry of Magic without being able to read even the most difficult people.
It wasn't fair! She groused mentally. All this because of an Azkaban inmate! They weren't supposed to come back out and be an issue! That's why they sent people to that hellhole in the first place!
This one was supposed to be kissed and gone to boot! If she wasn't so limited in what she could do right now, she'd arrange for the warden to feel her displeasure, perhaps a posting in Antarctica to study the effects of frostbite on a fool wizard's wedding tackle would do, she thought with vindictive pleasure.
More sparks flew as she stalked down the halls, to her visible consternation. She angrily stuck her wand in her pocket to prevent any further problems where she could be seen. People that had always paid her due deference avoided her in the halls now, looking at her like they'd contract a disease for associating with her. She didn't want to add to the perception of her failings by going around and shooting off her wand like some pubescent fool.
She stormed into the office she'd been seeking, making the occupant jump up in nervous subservience. She harrumphed, pleased. At least someone knew where their bread was buttered. She thought, somewhat mollified. She ignored the fact he'd been reading a magazine instead of doing any actual work. She didn't need the man for his actual skill, or lack thereof, after all.
She needed him because he was practically made to be a hand puppet.
"Cornelius. Just the man I wanted to see." She said brusquely, before the man could say something inane.
Cornelius Fudge was a man prone to saying something inane and useless after all, but he somehow had good connections all around the place, and a favorable public perception for someone not in the upper echelons of the administration, as he excelled at reinventing himself to whatever he needed at any given time to get ahead.
The tiny office was nothing compared to her own, but she found that somewhat pleasing this one time. Her large office had felt very empty as of late, and she kept feeling like the walls were closing in on her.
No matter how many memos she sent to the Department of Mysteries, they refused to explore the possibility someone was charming her walls to loom menacingly. Incompetents all around her, the place would fall apart without her here to keep things straight, she was sure of it.
"Madame Minister, what can I do for you today?" The man said, nervously playing with that silly bowler hat of his, Millicent's eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion at his clear nervousness.
Was his subservient attitude due to showing her a Minister's proper due? Or because he didn't want to deal with her and be tarred with the same brush? Was even this toady trying to avoid dealing with her?
Millicent sneered slightly, deciding it didn't matter as she sat down, giving the nervous bumbling man a hard look. He'd be easy enough to control either way, she decided.
"Have you had any thoughts on the Minister's seat? The support of a previous holder would give you a favorable chance, Cornelius." She said smoothly, eyes piercing his, cataloging his weaknesses, finding them pleasing to her goals.
Millicent easily recognized the avarice in the eyes of the man in front of her at that point. Her own smile turning sharp, she could definitely use this man. He was practically begging to be used. She recognized his kind.
The Ministry had plenty of him, but most of those had backers from the old families. She'd picked Fudge, because he sold out to everyone. So he'd have support, from people believing they could control him. When she'd be the one holding the strings, deciding who would be allowed to use him temporarily.
Put her out to pasture would they? She'd lead this fool to the top, and then use him to go after the people who'd dared to ruin her legacy.
And she'd put Sirius Black back where he belonged. In Azkaban.
Her smile widened, frightening Cornelius into silence, as she thought of the justice in that. Returning that pest to his prison, wiping the slate clear again.
She could rebuild her legacy then, blame it all on Black, claim he'd lied from the beginning.
Yes…
She was still the Minister for now, until the election. Her resources would propel Cornelius as her puppet.
She would win.
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Sirius felt slightly cheated. He'd expected a smoky backroom, with expensive stolen art on the walls, rough leather seats and hard eyed bouncers, with old men sitting all around drinking whiskey, while talking about the good old days. You know, the typical old criminal gentlemen's club that old rich people hang out in so they can say racist and horrible things near like-minded people, while making deals that in no way were legal.
"Not exactly what I'd pictured when you said you had a good place to eat and discuss things without any nosy ears around..." He spoke his thoughts out loud to Arcturus, his grouchy grandfather sitting across from him in the upscale and hidden French muggle restaurant.
The restaurant was practically hidden away from everything, it was nowhere near any major streets in London and was hidden behind a fenced in alleyway, graffiti in abundance on the walls, no sign in its surroundings that a classical upscale French restaurant was around. No signs that any restaurant was around. It wasn't hidden by magic, in fact there was no magic used at all around here, it was all plain muggle misdirection.
Arcturus grunted, watching the server with ill hidden suspicion. Their deaf muggle server. Which Sirius thought bore repeating. Muggle. They were here in robes and his grandfather had used magic without blinking. Just what? His family continued to confuse him the longer he was around them.
Because he'd naturally assumed that Arcturus would rather die than voluntarily sitting down in a muggle run restaurant. No matter the reason. He certainly hadn't been taken with the muggle Indian food and the pop.
The restaurant was full of splendor, a rich cream carpet in the entranceway, leading to a dark wooden floor, waxed to a shine, gold and white fixtures and tables, with tasteful pieces of art interspersed as obvious conversation pieces. The lighting was provided by crystal chandeliers, he was pretty sure he saw diamond salt and pepper shakers at the waitresses station! The napkins were monogrammed clothwith their names for Merlin's sake, and if he wasn't mistaken, the thread count was better than what most rich people use for their bedroom sheets! And they wasted it on napkins! What was even the point of a napkin that soft?
It further entrenched in Sirius mind, that rich people had no idea how to spend money.
"What is this place, grandfather?" Sirius asked, still surreptitiously looking around, not wanting to be so gauche as to look around like a country rube. This place was obviously something special if Arcturus would willingly come here, despite its muggle staff and locale.
Arcturus finished writing down their orders, handing the slip of paper (not parchment, and using a ballpoint pen!) off to the deaf waitress with obvious distaste on his features. For all that the restaurant had other tables, Sirius suspected only one table was ever used at a time. It really had that odd feel to it.
He felt like he was in a Bond movie or something.
Arcturus finally answered, after taking a fortifying sip of a dark red wine that was definitely illegal to serve in a muggle restaurant, it seemed his tastes did not go so far as to have him forgo a magical vintage. "It's a Black owned business." He rumbled, looking none too pleased at that fact.
Sirius chuckled, raising his own crystal wine glass to salute his grandfather, "How progressive of you." He teased, knowing from the context that it surely predated his grandfather.
He knew from what he'd read up on so far in the Lord's study, that the Black's had at numerous times, invested heavily in the muggle world. Not on more modern things like full on corporations or shares or anything like that. Way too muggle, that. No, his ancestors got involved in buying and running useful side businesses that could provide the family with something.
This restaurant hadn't come up, so it must be a fairly newer one as Sirius would have read about it if it was an older investment. And not too new, because he couldn't see Arcturus as the one starting it.
Arcturus glared at him, lips pulled taut, "Its use has been proven countless times, as much as I detest it, and I've never found a better place for clandestine meetings, somehow no one magical ever looks in the muggle world." He grimaced, looking like he'd tasted something foul, "It's run by people born out of… A squib line… "He looked pained to admit it, but it couldn't be hidden from Sirius anyway, he'd find it eventually now that he was Lord Black. "My grandfather created the business, although it's gone through numerous iterations since…"
Sirius grinned, raising a questioning eyebrow, "I was going to say… French? Really?"
"Like I said… Numerous iterations. They remodel, switching cuisines every decade or so for some inane muggle reason, I haven't kept track, I rarely use this place anymore." Arcturus grumbled, "Clients are brought via portkey for a meeting, and after the locale has been used for a couple of those, they inevitably move, you'll receive a letter with the new address when it happens so you can arrange more clients. I've never held any other contact with them."
"Sounds expensive." Sirius mused out loud, taking a small sniff of his wine, the bouquet was certainly enticing. "Moving around like that, the muggle way, hiding from the muggle authorities no doubt…" It was kind of fascinating really, considering the Black family view of muggles.
Apparently pragmatism really did trump all.
Arcturus considered Sirius for a moment, something pleased in the tired old man's gaze, "Bah, they get paid for it enough," He said with a dismissive snort, "But you are correct, the use of this restaurant for Black family clients is rather expensive. For them."
"Seems an odd thing to spend so much on, safety in the anonymity of the muggle world works just as fine at any regular restaurant." Sirius pointed out, trying to figure out how this business could even run.
Arcturus was too dignified to roll his eyes, but the look he gave Sirius made it clear he would if he could, "Wizards require pomp, a negotiation could not go down well in a regular muggle hovel, they'd be afraid of catching a disease."
Sirius sighed, taking a sip of wine, hmm, that might be the best sip of wine I've ever had. He thought, marveling. The place had quality in spades, that was clear. Even if it straddled both worlds in a very weird, and definitely illegal way. "You have a definite point there." He acknowledged, ignoring the smug look on his grandfather's face, "Anonymity is worth its weight in gold to some wizards."
Very few wizards knew their way around the muggle world. Well there were muggleborns, but they didn't exactly move in the circles that mattered.
For wizards that did not have a several generations old family manor with lethal wards able to shrug off anything short of a nuke, a discreet place to hold sensitive negotiations was worth a high price. Eavesdropping was fairly easy with magic after all, and anything short of top tier wards would eventually be breached by a skilled enough snooper.
The best way to avoid spies, and magical eavesdropping, was to not be anywhere they could be found. Unless you were already tagged with a spell, someone would have to know where you were, to try and tap in and listen.
There was also the inherent power imbalance present in meeting in a Lord's manor. Where the Lord held ultimate power. It made for negotiations that were inherently tilted in the home grounds favor.
Hence the constantly moving, high tier restaurant, that only took on a few dozen clients a year. Run by muggles, which no wizard would ever find to interrogate. And apparently deaf to boot so they couldn't even spy on their conversation anyway.
"The deafness? Just hired as a prerequisite?" Sirius asked, a suspicion forming, because it really was very convenient. Too convenient.
Arcturus scoffed, giving him a derisive look, "Of course not, it's a bloodline curse," He said matter of factly, "The original squib got a curse put on him that ensured all his descendants would be deaf."
Sirius frowned, what else did I expect? He thought, shaking his head slowly, "That's not very nice. Especially to people performing a service for you, and now for me." He said, voice turning slightly harsher.
It came too close to slavery for his taste. Even if they were well paid for a job they only had to do for perhaps forty times a year, it was still a cruel way to ensure compliance, a vow of silence wouldn't have been that hard to get working for a muggle.
"You can't be serious?" Arcturus said, raising a hand before Sirius could even try to capitalize, "No, don't," He said hurriedly, having heard many a serious/Sirius jokes. "And these vermin get paid very well for this, you are Lord Black, you can not feel pity for every ant that crosses your path." The old man seemed very intent to push that agenda across.
"These ones belong to the family, squib line or no. They are not ants." Sirius said coldly. Pressing his own point, glaring his grandfather into obedience. He would not allow the casual racism anymore then he would the overt.
He was well aware, even before this life, working as an equalizer, that not everyone can be saved. It was foolish to even try, as if you did, you failed even more people by trying the impossible and inevitably failing doing so. That said, it took a special kind of asshole to look at family like ants. Magic or no magic, they were still Blacks!
In his world-view, it was acceptable to sometimes sacrifice a person or two to bring good to thousands or hundreds of thousands. Most people did not have the wherewithal to make that choice - to kill one to save a thousand. But the equalizers existed to make that choice. That said, magically binding their - in their mind lesser bloodline to a job, and cursing them with deafness, for their own convenience more than anything, was beyond the pale.
It's because of families like his own that he needed to reform the magical world. Because of this exact thing.
Arcturus sighed, waving a wrinkly hand dismissively, "Fine, as you wish, Lord Black, I wouldn't even know how to fix the curse; however. Black family curses tend to be permanent." He scowled darkly, "Especially to Blacks."
Sirius had a feeling there was a story there…
Further conversation was interrupted as their guest arrived in the entrance hall. The deaf waitress immediately moved to escort them in, having spotted their arrival.
"Lord Black. Arcturus." He said clippedly, taking the empty seat at the table, regaly accepting a glass of wine from the proprietor who'd entered the dining room at the arrival. Somehow aware of it, while unable to hear the arrival.
They made small talk as their guest filled out his own note for his order, keeping it light and banal. Sirius hated small talk. But it was a necessity in these circles.
"It's not often I get an invitation to enjoy the services of the Black Hole." Algernon Croaker murmured softly. "In fact this is only the third time."
Arcturus scowled darkly, "It is not called that!" He groused, deeply affronted.
Sirius barked out a laugh, enjoying the dismay on his grandfather's face, "Oh, I disagree, it's very fitting." He countered with a playful smirk on his face.
Croaker raised an eyebrow, face flat. "Irregardless of its official name, it's long since been called the Black Hole, whether you like it or not, Arcturus." He said plainly, not looking like he cared either way, but felt the need to provide an explanation.
Unspeakables, they were all a weird bunch. Croaker probably more than most, Sirius privately thought, since the man was the head weirdo. The only 'publicly' known member of the Department of Mysteries.
"It is a pity it's French inspired nowadays, I quite enjoyed the time when it was devoted to Mediterranean cuisine." Croaker lamented, eyeing them both with sharp intelligent eyes. "I had a splendid dinner conversation with the man who'd become Lord Voldemort at this exact table, in fact, once upon a time." He shrugged his shoulders casually, "Charming man, even though his recruitment pitch failed we enjoyed a splendid dinner." He paused, before continuing, "Bit of a sore loser though, tried to have me killed half a dozen times afterwards."
"Must you," Arcturus groaned, "You tell that story everytime we meet alone anywhere."
Croaker folded his hands in his lap, his wine left entirely unattended, "I've always found reminders a useful method to keep important information close to mind, so one can avoid mistakes." He said calmly, but there was definitely a sharpness deep in that gaze.
Sirius definitely got a feeling that Algernon Croaker was one of those wizards you didn't cross lightly. Who knew what secrets he had available in the depths of his department. Well, all for the better. It's entirely the reason why he'd decided to reach out. After probing Arcturus on everything he knew about his contemporary.
"I couldn't have known what would happen." Arcturus blustered, as Sirius watched in fascination, was his grandfather… Embarrassed?
Croaker looked unimpressed, "I believe my exact words to you after meeting the young Lord was - he will use your family members like disposable wipes if you're foolish enough to be entangled." He reminded Sirius grandfather, with some censure in his voice.
"I didn't know what disposable wipes were!" Arcturus protested petulantly, "Still don't." He added in a low mutter.
"As absolutely fascinating as this is." Sirius said amusedly, tapping his ring on his wine glass lightly to draw their attention. "We are not here to drag up old regrets, of which I'm sure you both have many. It's a new world now, that's what we're here to discuss."
"I'm apolitical." Croaker said immediately, jaw sticking out stubbornly.
"Bloody hell you are, Algie." Arcturus muttered under his breath. Ceasing his mumblings after a censoring look from Sirius.
The fact Croaker really didn't play the usual Ministry game was a plus, in Sirius's opinion. But the one thing that brought him firmly into Sirius' sight, was the fact Croaker did not subscribe to the Dumbledore cult. There was a reason why other than recruiting Augustus Rookwood, neither Voldemort or Dumbledore had gotten their hands on anything important from the Department of Mysteries during the war.
"I'm not asking you to stick your neck out for me, Director." Sirius said placatingly, although obviously if he could manage that, he wouldn't say no, either…
"Then what are you asking, forgive my skepticism, but this place rents for a fortune per hour, I doubt you've brought me here for nothing." Croaker said skeptically, his eyes flickering to Arcturus for a moment, "You Black's never do anything for nothing."
"There's no Black's quite like me. So you'll have to alter that worldview soon enough, Director." Sirius said jovially, although inwardly he was a bit annoyed, obviously Arcturus had poisoned the well here in the past. He had a feeling he'd run into a lot of that the further into politics he dipped.
"A wonderful sentiment, I do love learning something new, the world is after all ever evolving. But I note, also not an answer to my query." Croaker said dryly. A smile blooming on his face right after as he noticed the waitress and proprietor return, plates in their hands. "Splendid, I'm curious to see if they can do to French cuisine what they did to the Mediterranean."
Sirius smiled at the waitress as she placed a plate of beautifully prepared and artfully crafted escargot in front of him. He did love to try new things, "I have actually brought you here so that I can help you." Sirius said, taking the time after to sample his food, which might be worth the horrendous price of the locale, was this really snails? It was divine.
Croaker likewise was enjoying the first bites of his meal, not immediately jumping into a rebuttal. Arcturus stubbornly drank more wine instead, ignoring the food. No doubt some stick up his ass about it being muggle prepared. Honestly, sometimes the man just exhausted Sirius.
"I don't particularly need help with anything." Croaker said amusedly. "Unless it is helping me enjoy a good meal, In which case, thank you, you've delivered."
Sirius smirked, "Would the method Voldemort used to survive a killing curse interest you? That would help you quite well in figuring him out, am I correct?"
Croaker froze in place, fork halfway to his mouth.
"What!?" He explained, bending forward a light of need in his eyes.
Sirius grinned.
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Some hours later.
Arcturus growled, irritated, "Was all that really necessary?" He asked, his plate completely cleaned off, by Sirius, because why waste orgasmic food?
This was why being completely stuck on any point of an ideology to the point of obtuseness was ridiculous. He came to the restaurant, then because of his worldview he couldn't even bend or stretch it even the slightest - to simply try the food.
Sirius had also ordered dessert, to expand his experience and extend it, as well as to rub it into his grandfather's face. And then he'd ordered even more dessert. Because why not? Also their coffee must have been wrung out of angel tears somehow, because he'd never had anything like it. He thought Italians were supposed to be the experts, but these people blew any previous experience away.
Not that he'd even ordered it, they'd just pushed a coffee cup on him with the dessert and he'd tried it.
Considering the ways magicals could enhance a beverage, their skill as regulars was something special indeed. He'd have to utilize this service more often…
Sirius nodded seriously to his grandfather's question, having one last longing look around, he kind of wanted to hire these people to be his personal chefs, but the curse… "Croaker swore an unbreakable vow, he won't spread the information. And he's more trustworthy than Dumbledore when it comes to destroying these things." It didn't even need to be said that of course he'd had his grandfather sworn to a vow as well. He was no fool.
"And you gained his support." Arcturus grumbled.
Sirius grinned proudly, "And I gained his support." He agreed, feeling quite pleased with himself.
He'd mostly planned to leave the pieces of old Tommy boy's soul alone until he became the Minister of Magic. But pragmatism took a hold of him. It was not entirely improbable that he'd be assassinated before taking the seat, he was after all upsetting the status quo. He could hardly trust his family to do what was needed in that case. They'd revert to old habits without him there to force them forward.
He'd almost wanted to let Dumbledore know so he'd go and get himself killed. But knowing him, he'd somehow manage to let Voldemort know all about it and bring him back early. Sirius would rather leave it to a professional. Who he'd keep a very watchful eye on, of course. Because trust but verify still applied, always.
Croaker would do his part no matter what, whether Sirius was around or not. He had the whole department if needed, and he wouldn't be telling any of them what exactly they were doing if he put any of them to use.
And it neatly proved Sirius had only good intentions to the old man, which ensured he'd go to bat for Sirius from within the Ministry. He had a lot of pull, people listened when he talked. And he never endorsed a candidate. Until now.
Of course the fact the man was so apolitical worked against him in some ways, like a bit of political naivete. Sirius being a good man when it came to vanquishing a Dark Lord that would undoubtedly kill him if he came back - was not the same thing as an honest Minister of Magic.
Sirius intended to be a great Minister, sure. But he had a bit of a different idea of what was great then most current magicals did. Most of him had come from a proper democratic purely muggle country after all.
Oh well…He'll learn, who knows he might even approve of me changing the wizarding world. Sirius thought. It was unlikely. He found old men rarely approved of change in any way.
A minute later, both men left the restaurant behind.
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Next day.
"Alright, what's next?" Sirius asked, too tired to bother retiring to his Lord's study for his work, holding the meeting instead at the kitchen table, while enjoying a bacon sandwich.
His two guests had both protested vividly to the locale and the idea Sirius would be eating while discussing things with them. Sirius hadn't cared one whit and pushed on regardless.
Out in public he might have to mostly behave, but in his home, everyone else could just adapt to him, or else.
Kreacher had many faults, but he was a whizz at bacon. He made it just like Sirius liked it, one tenth bread, nine tenths bacon.
Narcissa, perched with perfect poise at the other end of the table, wrinkled her nose at the crumbs littering the table in front of Sirius, "The meeting with Lord Malfoy." She reminded him. Too posh apparently to simply say my husband.
Sirius gave her a long-suffering look, "Right, that ponce… Fine. When?"
Narcissa tapped the magical calendar that was floating in the air between them with a perfectly manicured nail. "He is available on the 13th, 15th or the 24th, my Lord." She said idly, showing no preference.
Sirius noted that his own schedule was by coincidence free on those days, "Fine, I'd rather get it over with anyway, do the 13th." He ordered. That way Cissy won't rearrange anymore of my schedule around Malfoy's availability, he thought, with some annoyance.
"I'll see to it, my Lord." Narcissa said simply, showing no smugness. Simply noting it and moving past it.
Cassiopeia, sitting next to Narcissa sighed, looking bored out of her mind, "Was there any point in me being here? Or did you just want an audience while you played with your secretary?" She said irritably, slowly adding, "My lord." After receiving a cold look from Narcissa.
Sirius pointed his half eaten bacon sandwich at her, making her grimace, "Yes, I just wanted to see how long until you cracked and complained before we got into it." He said with a sardonic smile on his face.
"This is why I like books better." Cassiopeia muttered, "Less snark." She shook her head, slowly, "Well, what do you need of me, my Lord."
"I'm starting a charity foundation, the Lily Potter foundation." Sirius began, noting the loaded looks his two family members briefly shared, "I have yet to acquire the Daily Prophet, so it will buy me good press in the right moment, right now." He explained, adding as an afterthought, "And it helps the children of course."
Sirius still hadn't managed to track down the owners of the largest share of the British wizarding world's major paper. They had top of the line family wards obviously. He'd have to dig into the library and use a dark spell based on the hair he'd stolen from their child, the first one had failed.
"And how will it help the children, exactly?" Narcissa asked dryly, with a raised eyebrow.
"And what does it have to do with me?" Cassiopeia wanted to know, looking dismayed, "I don't handle children!" She added with a look of dread in her eyes.
Sirius rolled his eyes, taking a large bite of his bacon sandwich, chewing slowly as Cassiopeia looked a mix between annoyed and fearful. "You won't have to actually interact with kids, so keep your knickers on." He said finally. "You'll be setting it up, get all the paperwork done, the press, dealing with the Ministry, hiring, all the work to have it up and running."
Cassiopeia looked relieved, yet still annoyed, "You're putting me on parchment work duty?" She complained.
Narcissa had to hide a smile behind her hand at the almost whiny tone from the older woman. Sirius shared an amused look with her, before he continued to explain what he wanted, "Its main purpose is to sponsor a full scholarship for Hogwarts for all the British children that might want to go."
Despite being in Scotland, the fact was that Hogwarts was the premier school in Britain, not the only one, and it was not affordable to the majority of children in Britain. That's why it had a majority of English students - that tended to have more income amongst the muggleborn, and the rich amongst the purebloods. Weasley's were so apparently destitute because they spent all their money on their children's education.
The Scottish, Irish, and Welsh, were seriously underrepresented at Hogwarts. Sirius intended to more than double, and ideally, triple the Hogwarts class sizes. It would be expensive, but nothing the Black's couldn't easily afford. And it would build him, as a side benefit, a great amount of goodwill with a lot of voters.
Granted, with how their system worked, the voters were the least important part in winning an election, paradoxically.
The actual election finished in the Wizengamot chambers. The vote for the common people was not released until after the Wizengamot had their say. That allowed the Wizengamot to take the numbers as a hint at what people wanted, but then choose whether to follow it or not and then people just assumed the winning contender got the most votes. That said a vast majority vote by itself would likely move the Wizengamot to follow it, but rarely did anyone gain such a substantial edge in the election.
It's why Sirius had to play both angles. Win the popular vote to pressure the Wizengamot, and wine and dine the nobs, to ensure the Wizengamot didn't fuck him at the finish line. It's also how Fudge could constantly simper to the public, while also turning around and fucking them constantly to please his backers. Because between the two, his backers mattered more, politically.
"That's an admirable goal." Narcissa said softly, an honest smile on her face for once. The smile lightening up her usually cold visage, making her look much younger. She did seem to have a soft spot for kids ever since she'd had her sprog as far as Sirius could tell.
"It really doesn't seem like my type of task." Cassiopeia complained lightly. "And I've still not finished the other work you've tasked me with," She reminded him.
"You'll set it up, I have someone else intended to run it once all the parchment work and permits are in." Sirius admitted. He was well aware Cassiopeia wouldn't be suitable for the interpersonal duties of the job.
"She will hex you." Narcissa said matter of factly, immediately understanding his intent.
Cassiopeia eyed Narcissa queerly, before her eyes widened and she swung back to Sirius, "Andromeda?" She guessed, looking skeptical when Sirius' face said she'd guessed correctly, "Really? She'll never accept!"
Sirius smirked, "Maybe, maybe not, but the charity doesn't have to be run by the Black family after I've gotten the initial press. I have no problem giving her full rein and funding and letting her loose." His smirk turned playful, "Think of all the children," He said almost mockingly, "Without this charity they won't get the help they need, and only Andromeda can help them."
Sure, the kids had other, lesser schools, but inevitably those were the kind of schools that made the Stan Shunpikes of the world, not the Amelia Bones'. Would Andromeda still refuse to help even if Sirius backed out after the initial capital? Sirius didn't think so. She couldn't have that much of an issue with the family.
He hoped.
Besides he could easily hint at the fact it would make it even more likely little Nymphadora would get ahead in the world by simply being involved with the charity. She'd have lots of friends by default and support all around.
In one move he'd get amazing press, start an actually needed charity that would also by happenstance endear him to Harry Potter when he found out on his introduction, and also bring Andromeda closer to the family, whether she liked it or not. He was quite smug about the plan.
"She will hex you." Narcissa reiterated, shaking her head. But notably not saying it was a bad idea either.
It would work. Sirius was like, 95 percent sure.
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One of the advantages of being filthy rich was the fact that hard to make potions that he didn't really have time to make or spend time learning how to do - was literally just a floo call or an owl away.
Hence, when he needed Polyjuice, there was no need for him to wait a month. He just tossed galleons around.
As for the hair, it was beyond easy enough to simply nab some from an unsuspecting muggle. And if Sirius picked the biggest, scariest, scarred muggle he could find? Well, intimidation was part of what he was going for after all.
Now he couldn't really approach Private Drive. He had an agreement with Dumbledore, for now. And he'd, for now, acquiesced to not removing Harry from his home. So going for a visit would no doubt create a problem for him as Dumbledore would find out. Whether he'd added some wards to find out, or used Arabella Figg for it, he couldn't say.
Either way, he was in no state, politically, personally, and security wise, to take in Harry quite yet. He still had mixed feelings in regards to the kid too, but he wasn't such a tool that he'd subject Harry to months or years of neglect.
He'd get him out once he was in the Minister's seat and could fight Dumbledore on somewhat equal grounds. Probably.
But that didn't say he couldn't interfere, in a way Dumbledore wouldn't even know about.
Hence, he'd taken to stalking the local supermarkets nearby to Private Drive, he'd used different Polyjuice disguises while he asked around surreptitiously.
Petunia Dursley was not hard to describe, and as he apparently found out when he found the right supermarket, nor was she easily forgotten.
She was infamous at the local market, always arguing quality and prices and treating staff like they were lesser beings. Always in a way where it wasn't overt enough to make anything more out of it, but noticeably annoying. A true Karen.
So today, Sirius was walking through the market parking lot waiting for Petunia. According to the goss, she tended to shop in the middle of the day on these days, while lugging around her precious Dudders.
Harry of course left behind, rarely seen in public.
By luck, he spotted her driving in, and intercepted her as soon as she got out of the car, before she could get her beachball child out.
"Petunia Dursley, we need to speak about Harry Potter." He rumbled, as he loomed over her.
Petunia, who'd begun to look ready to scream and cause a scene at being accosted, immediately froze, her lips turning on an impressive Snape like sneer, 7.5 on a Snape scale, he'd say. "You're one of them!?" She whisper-yelled. "We have nothing to talk about, you're not supposed to contact us!"
Sirius grinned menacingly, leaning close in, even if he was a whole foot taller than the woman. "But see, I'm the kind of ruddy magical who has feet in both worlds… I know how to contact children's services, the coppers, the media." His grin turned pure evil, "Your little lady gossip association… "I know about the cupboard Petunia… Want pictures to decorate your neighbors doors?"
No matter how good of a liar she was, she wouldn't be able to weasel out of that one. And as long as Dumbledore believed Harry was within the wards of Private Drive, he wouldn't give a shit if the neighbors were whispering about the Dursleys.
Petunia put a hand to her heart, her face turning almost completely white, the woman entirely ignoring the fully screaming Dudders in his carseat. "Wh-What do you w-want?" She squeaked out, looking ready to faint.
Sirius brought out several documents from a hidden pocket, just to be an ass, making it look like they appeared from nothing, like magic. "I have set up a pediatrician for him, you'll take him, you'll take him there regularly, if I hear you've missed an appointment…" His voice turned dangerously rough, "Well, you know what to expect, at minimum then, won't you?"
Petunia gulped, fear flickering through her eyes as she stared down at the documents like they were snakes, "I… I can do that." She agreed reluctantly.
Sirius clapped sardonically, papers still in hand, making Petunia flinch back. "See, you can be reasonable. When facing the threat of your entire life being ruined." He said, "This second one is for you. You'll be meeting a dietician, one specialized in children. One laying out a meal plan for Harry. And I suppose if you're clever, you could use it for your beachball of a son too…"
"There is nothing wrong with what I feed him!" Petunia snapped, being so offended she forgot to be scared for a moment.
"I don't care." Sirius said bluntly. "You'll do it. And you'll follow the meal plan for Harry."
Seeing an almost sly look creep into the woman's eyes, Sirius leaned in, putting his arm against the car, boxing the woman in further, making her freeze, "Petunia… He rumbled dangerously, "I will have someone check on Harry regularly, his weight and vitamin levels will be checked on his regular pediatric appointments. You will not bloody mess this up!"
"Why are you doing this!? We were promised we'd be left alone!" Petunia broke down, tears flowing as her petty thoughts to work around him were spotted and destroyed.
Sirius would not be able to continue too much longer, a man his size and look, looming over a woman in the parking lot, would likely bring some attention soon enough.
"Finally, I will be hiring a muggle to come by weekly, to inspect his surroundings, ensure he's taken care of, that he has clothes and toys and everything a child needs." Sirius said, "Now to assist you in this, he will be bringing money." Already spotting the greed in the no longer crying woman, Sirius inwardly sighed but outwardly put his foot down again. "He will check it was used for Harry. Do not misuse it. I can easily have your husband undergo some tax problems if you piss me off enough and the ruined reputation isn't enough of a threat for you."
Sullen silence greeted him, Petunia staring down at the pavement. Dudders was still screeching at full volume in the car. Petunia too focused on Sirius to even notice, which said something considering how ridiculous she'd been with that kid in canon.
"Petunia. Are we understood, or do I need to ruin you to ensure Harry gets a better time somewhere else?" Sirius threatened.
"I understand." She snapped. "Don't expect me to be happy about it!"
"As another note. Do not leave Harry with any neighbors, do not speak with your neighbors about Harry other than in general terms." Sirius handed the woman a card, which she very reluctantly took, holding it between her forefinger and middle finger like it would burst into flames. "This muggle will babysit Harry anytime you need it. If anyone asks, he's a relative of Vernon's just helping out." Sirius handed her the rest of the documents, forcing the woman to properly hold them, or lose the whole bunch.
Sirius could do more, but he doubted he could force the Dursleys into more than this minimum level of effort without some sort of rebellion. And with this much of an improvement to Harry's life, he would at least be somewhat comfortable, and be around people who could show him some actual comfort now and then. And since nothing outwardly changed outside Private Drive. Dumbledore's squib spy should have nothing important to report. On Sirius' end, the people for this job that he'd hired were acquaintances of the Black squib line people he'd met at the restaurant, they were trustworthy, but most of all entirely muggle. So the wards wouldn't care.
Harry would get regular doctor's appointments, regular meals, toys and clothes like a person, and human contact through his staff if the Dursley's wouldn't pony up. Hopefully that would help a little before Sirius could take him out of there. Honestly he'd probably do a shit job as a parent, but he'd try at least.
"I will be watching Petunia. Make sure Vernon finds out all the details. And that if he interferes or refuses any of this, tax problems will be the least of his issues when I start using magic to destroy his job." Sirius couldn't help but let loose another threat. Not sure if it would be enough for Vernon that their treatment of Harry would become public.
Before Petunia could answer, he walked off, and as soon as he was in an alleyway, he apparated away.
His grandfather might disdain their family off the squib line of the family. But to Sirius, they were eminently useful. Having agents in the muggle world was very useful when there were hardly any wizards that could properly help there.
Just because something wasn't in many cases as good as magic, didn't make it inherently useless. Just different.
And if anything could make a difference in the magical world…
It was a person willing to use every possible tool on his belt, holding nothing back.
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Author's note:
Yeah, old Millicent Bagnold might be losing her marbles a tad from having her entire life ruined right in the last stretch of her victory lap. In the Wizarding world only two things really matter. Family name or reputation. She could run again, in theory, but right now her name is mud so she sees better prospects in running a patsy - while she advises the 'next generation', retiring with grace, a good ways to get back some of that soiled reputation.
Going to war against Sirius Black though… Dangerous thing, that.
Personally, a HP world story where no one gets sworn in to destroy Voldemort's little pieces never made much sense to me. Unbreakable vows are an actual thing and there must be wizards that are equally as capable to the likes of Ron Weasley to kill the things.
If he could mental up the balls to stick a horcrux, then others can too. Besides this story isn't about Harry Potter chasing down the Horcruxes, it has a different focus.
Sirius hasn't given up on Andromeda. Who knows what she'll think about that.
Chapter seven is on Patreon and should only be a few days.
So not quite the weekend for this release, which would make a month between releases, but I blame Seras, who has an absolutely amazing fic called Ghost in the city, a Cyberpunk 2077 fic. Which brought me, who didn't even know about the source material - to the wonderful world of Cyberpunk.
Seriously if you haven't read it, go read it. In fact go read anything by Seras it's all amazing.
Because of reading the story, I bought the game on Friday and might have been spending more time than is healthy - playing it all weekend, delaying this release. Oops.
Also I had other stories to update, so that too.
I'm weak. My apologies.
Anyways, here's the chappie, enjoy.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
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"This is unacceptable!" Sirius slammed his fist down on his desk, showcasing his anger, while still doing his best to keep a lid on it, knowing losing his cool completely served no purpose.
Again and again he'd attempted to take over the majority shares of the Daily Prophet, the national paper who by design was controlled by a wide variety of owners to prevent any single actor from having control of it.
Not everyone in the magical world was a moron. In the hands of anyone but Sirius, he agreed. No one should have a majority stake of the paper. That's likely how Fudge got away with so much in regards to the Prophet - with Malfoy and Briarwood backing him with the paper with their combined shares.
With Pollux having flubbed his only job - by having the news spread ahead of him of their efforts. Sirius continued to fail at getting the majority that could be so crucial going forward. Too many shares were held by Briarwood and Malfoy combined for him to break through on his own.
The two of them holding so many shares combined was proof of the Briarwoods having found a good niche to begin with (Sirius had suspicions on how they'd gotten their shares) - likely why they'd suffered no real harm in the war, they weren't needed as combatants.
The Briarwoods were unfortunately unusually competent at avoiding him. Even with the hair he'd stolen from the only Hogwarts age family member - and therefore the only one of them available to his reach - he'd still failed to locate them.
And he couldn't try again, the ritual he'd used had hit some very strong family wards - despite the ritual being designed to be able to locate anything, his fault for not using blood, he supposed, the strongest medium. But bloodletting a Hogwarts student was a step too far for him.
He had to keep some set of ethics and standards lest he becomes what he's setting out to depose.
Either way, the next day, after the ritual, the girl was pulled from Hogwarts, so even if he changed his mind he no longer had that recourse. The Briarwoods obviously intended to completely turtle up behind family wards and hold on to their shares with everything they got.
No doubt counting on them for protection if Voldemort rose again. That they'd be able to ride out another war if it happened.
They weren't noble or ancient enough to matter enough in national politics, not rich enough to bribe their way forward like Malfoy, at least not for very long. Their shares were their line to the powerful - their influence in pushing the news in a particular direction.
If he'd had the chance to meet them face to face, perhaps he'd be able to change their minds, but that avenue was lost.
With how determinedly they were avoiding him… They were likely a lost cause now. Sirius would not resort to kidnapping or anything like that, not that he'd be able to get to them now anyway… The Briarwoods were an outlier in the magical world, keeping to themselves to the point of paranoia, their family manor not on record - he'd checked.
He was almost wondering if Moody was related to the family at this point…
They had no one working in the Ministry, in fact, none of their family members seemed to go anywhere into public work after leaving Hogwarts. They were a remarkably insular family in an already insular pureblood world.
Where other families threw balls and events - the Briarwoods remained aloof.
It was deeply frustrating.
"... Well…" Sirius sighed deeply, patting the table lightly where he'd slammed it, "No use in crying over spilled potion." He did his best to shed his anger, it wouldn't serve him here. He'd work it out in the training room after, blow shit up, his mother's ancient plate collection did make for wonderful shooting practice.
Especially when he could cast a reparo and just do it again, and again, and again.
Pollux and Cygnus were both sitting across from his desk, both had looked distinctly uncomfortable while Sirius had been lost in thought and they breathed visibly easier when Sirius did not waste time in recriminations after his minor explosion of temper.
"Pollux, keep an ear out for them, but drop any more efforts to push them out, it's a waste of galleons at this point." Sirius ordered, tapping his ring twice at the edge of the desk, a reminder to himself to focus.
He couldn't do anything to change the outcome, so his anger was useless and would only continue to exacerbate the situation with the fools in front of him.
Pollux scowled, but nodded shortly to show he'd heard and understood the order, "It will be done as you say," He hesitated for a moment, and Sirius held back on rolling his eyes, waving a hand to tell his maternal grandfather to get on with it, "Would you like me to leave an open line of communication with the Shafiq family? Their niece is arranged to marry the Briarwood spare."
Sirius saw no harm in at least leaving a fishing line in the water, "Fine, but Pollux, no heavy handedness from now on, just let them know we'd like to talk, that's it." He warned, making sure to impress the seriousness of his request. The last thing he needed was for the Shafiq's to have a reason to complain about his family's actions.
There was an alarmingly sophisticated level of opposition beginning to form amongst the families on the Wizengamot, he could see it brewing, and he didn't need to add the Shafiq's to the enemy camp. Their neutrality would work as well for him as them following him, anything but opposition. He needed to tread carefully around the neutrals.
They were practically wed to the status quo, a ridiculous idea, but one he couldn't prod too heavily until he was already in power, and even then, very carefully.
Bagnold was a known enemy, but this, this wasn't just her - it was too well done. The Briarwoods as well, their defenses were up too quick, it could be nothing, but it could also mean collusion. But with who?
Cygnus, who's frailty and follower mindset had left Sirius with no choice but to keep him out of anything important, wet his lips slowly, before speaking up haltingly, "Sirius…Lord Black…I…" He stopped for a moment as both Sirius and Pollux turned their attention to him.
Truly, he was only in the meeting because he'd been with Pollux when Sirius had called Pollux over the floo and it would have been rude to exclude him.
"Is it something important or can it wait, Cygnus?" Sirius asked sharply, not willing to offer much respect to the weak willed puppet of his Mother.
He'd been adrift at sea since her banishment, not doing much of anything now that he lacked someone telling him what to think.
"Malfoy still has enough shares that our combined strength would…" Cygnus trailed off again, his weak chin wobbly as he faltered at Sirius glare.
"We will not allow Lucius Malfoy that level of influence into our doings." Sirius said slowly and pointedly, as if speaking to a toddler that had made a mess, "He'd use anything he'd gain against us in a heartbeat - if he wasn't selling the information to our enemies the entire time…"
Cygnus somehow found the strength to weakly protest, "But…B-but it would give you what you wanted Sirius…"
Even Pollux was giving Cygnus a look now, as Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. His fortune for competent underlings… Damnit Andromeda! You should be here! "Drinking a poisoned rejuvenation potion because it's also good for you, is not a solution, Cygnus!" He would have lambasted the man further, but Kreacher appeared at the door, bowing silently, waiting for permission to speak.
"Yes, Kreacher, what is it?" Sirius asked, forcibly calming his tone, the house elf did not need to pay for his frustration in dealing with lackwits.
"Master, there is a guest begging for your attention at the front entrance." Kreacher grumbled with distaste.
New clothes and a new respectful outlook towards him, did not suddenly change Kreacher's entire personality. Sirius knew immediately that whoever was coming knocking was not a pureblood.
Which left very few people who knew enough about Grimmauld place to arrive at his door. It wasn't impossible, but the wards and the fact the Black's never invited anyone lesser to the place - ensured it was not well known, nor easy to find for the uninitiated.
"Who do they claim to be?" Sirius asked, dread building in his gut, he had a feeling already…
"Remus Lupin, sir." Kreacher said, sniffing, his beady eyes full of judgment, "He is a half-breed, Kreacher can smell it." He warned, which was much more than he would have gotten not that long ago from the surly elf.
"Damn." Sirius said quietly, closing his eyes.
"Let him in."
He so didn't want to deal with this today…
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Remus shifted on his feet, the front entrance of the Black townhouse was saturated with magic and it had a foreboding feeling to it. Making him feel unwanted.
Or perhaps that was his own feelings coming out, ahead of this reunion. All the regret, self loathing, and grief - tangling with the small starved kernel of hope inside of him. That little nugget that insisted he travel back to England. That he try, to pay for his mistakes. His failures.
That he at least should try to make amends for his absolute dereliction of duty to the Marauders memory, to James and Lily, to Sirius - most of all.
He'd never looked for Sirius trial, never attempted to attend it, never tried to ask him why? Never wondered why he wasn't called as a witness - which he now knew was because there was no trial. He'd been lost in his grief. Losing James and Lily… Then losing Peter and learning he'd also lost Sirius - in a different manner, in a way that tore out his heart and ground it to ash. Sirius had betrayed them.
Or so he'd thought. What a fool he'd been. How could he not have done at least something to verify the truth.
Remus had left England and hadn't looked back for even one second - he ran, abandoning what was left of his pack. Harry would be better left to someone who wasn't such a complete failure he'd thought. Someone that hadn't buried all his family, his friends. Because what was Azkaban other than a different sized tomb?
Even when hating Sirius, Remus had mourned him the same. Had blamed himself for not spotting any signs of him turning on them, for not doing enough to keep him loyal.
Remus could barely remember the last two years, he'd barely allowed himself to think, finding temporary hard labor work - and working until he dropped from exhaustion - so he could avoid thinking, avoid dreaming, avoid remembering.
And then, the news. Remus barely paid attention to magical news, earning most of his pay in the muggle world, traveling from place to place, earning his keep, but never staying long enough to get attached to anyone. To risk them during his transformations. To risk being found out.
To risk pausing enough that he'd have time to think or feel.
But the news had been too big and it had rippled across the magical world and it had been all over the papers - even in Croatia, where he'd been at the time. It had ripped the heart Remus wasn't sure he'd even still had - in twain, yet again.
Because he'd failed more than he could have ever imagined. Padfoot was innocent. He hadn't done it. Of course he hadn't! How could Remus have ever believed it? Sirius and James were inseparable, how could he have been so foolish, so stupid as to believe it.
It had never made any sense! Why had he accepted it!?
Remus had let James and Lily die. And then he'd let Sirius rot in Azkaban. Had venerated Peter's memory - the traitor. He could feel hatred burning in his veins at the thought of him, the one behind all their suffering… Him, he could kill and not even lose a minute of sleep for..
He hadn't thought he could be a bigger failure. And now, the news had proved him wrong. He'd failed Sirius. He imagined James, wherever his soul rested, hated him now, he'd betrayed everything the Marauders stood for. The brotherhood. He'd abandoned pack.
But… That small kernel of hope. It drew Remus here. He had to try. Had to make amends. Had to see for himself that Sirius was okay. Even if he hated him. Even if he wanted Remus dead.
Is he going to let me in? He thought, shifting his feet again, the elf had been gone some time now, after sneering at him and muttering under his breath for Remus to not defecate on the steps.
Charming fellow… Remus remembered Sirius stories of the Black townhouse elf, he'd never quite believed them, and he wondered now how Sirius must feel having to live with him. To be back here… The place of his nightmares.
And there I go on a tangent in my mind again. He nervously straightened his clean but well worn robes, feeling his apprehension grow the longer he was left waiting. Was Sirius planning to deny him entry? Refuse to see him?
He certainly had the right, Remus would not begrudge him for turning him away.
Before he could make up his mind on knocking again, the door swung open on its own. The elf standing inside the hallway gave him a gimlet stare as he waved his hand for Remus to enter.
Here goes nothing… Remus thought, taking a deep breath, before he entered into the home of the Blacks.
He half expected he'd never leave it.
He was okay with that.
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Sirius kept his face blank as Remus Lupin was led into his office. He'd dismissed Cygnus and Pollux, the last thing he wanted was an audience for this. He had half of a plan in place, but he'd probably never be fully ready for this conversation.
Kreacher gave a last bow in his direction, before popping away. Leaving the two Marauders alone in the office, both studying each other in silence.
Sirius had aged in Azkaban, there was no doubt about it, but he had nothing on Remus, who looked like he'd aged a decade in the last two plus years. His robes were more threadbare than usual, hinting that the man wasn't even bothering to put his sewing skills to test, let alone the more magical means to repair clothing. He'd just given up on trying, if Sirius was to hazard a guess.
Depression… Well, he, if anyone, had a reason for it.
Sirius silently gestured to an armchair in the corner of the room, situated there for more intimate conversations, a small nook with comfortable chairs and small tables to keep your alcohol on. A humidor for cigars built into the table and an ancient wizarding chess platform off to the side, the pieces themselves older than anyone now alive.
According to Arcturus, no one in the family ever used it anymore, the pieces so old and curmudgeonly that they played the same game over and over again and refused direction from snot nosed brats.
Sirius had already placed a bottle of Ogden's finest on the table when Kreacher had gone to fetch Remus. (Heh, fetch.)
Once they got over this awkwardness and loathing, Sirius would have to remember that one and make Kreacher play fetch with Remus at some point.
Once Remus was seated, he himself sunk down heavily in the chair opposite his, reaching over and opening the bottle of fire whiskey, swigging some straight from the bottle, enjoying the burn going down his throat - there was no need to keep his lordly persona with Remus. He wiped his mouth and then he put his elbows on his knees, fire whiskey bottle dangling from his fingers as he finally broke the silence, "Bit late, aren't you, Moony?" He drawled sarcastically, before taking another deep swig of the bottle.
He purposely avoided indulging too much most days, filling the gaping hole inside him with alcohol was just a bad idea in general. But this kind of meeting was really something he needed to be drunk for. It also warmed him up, which helped beat the chill that never really left his bones.
Azkaban had done a number on him, no matter what treatment he received - there would likely always be some effect left.
Remus' eyes were suspiciously shiny as he bowed his head, speaking softly, "Very late, I failed you, I believed you were the one that betrayed James and Lily, I can never make amends for that, for failing to stand by a brother, but I'm here anyway, late as it is." His hand was shaking as it scratched at a stubbled cheek, "We all failed you, but I, I should have known better!"
He almost howled out the last part, wolf and human in perfect agreement for one of the few times Sirius had ever seen. As far as he could remember anyway.
Sirius grimaced, the plain honesty in that just pissed him off, he wanted to be angrier, to rip into his old friend, but it was hard to truly feel it. He didn't hold as much against Remus as he did the people like Dumbledore - who could have gotten him a trial, should have gotten him a trial. But he also wasn't about to count on a guy who's reaction to anything was to either bury his head in sand or run away. Not truly count on him, not without assurances.
"I believed it was you who was the traitor, so we're even there." Sirius said with a toothy grin, but it was no smile, far from it, "It did hurt just a tad to be dragged off to Azkaban though,"He said with casualness he didn't feel, "Always wondering, is today the day my friend is coming to see me? To ask for my trial? To ask me why? Anything?"
Sirius might already be primed to let Remus back in his life, but he wasn't going to make it easy. For all that, he didn't blame him too harshly either, because they'd all been idiots. They should have just sat down together with cups of Veritaserum dosed water the moment Dumbledore had warned them of a spy and taken care of any suspicions.
They'd been young and dumb and in a war. He couldn't fault Remus for not being perfect. Just for running after, instead of standing by his mate. He was still going to make the git feel it before he even thought to forgive him though…
Remus sunk deeper into his chair, ducking his head, the lines on his face seemingly deepening as he sunk into himself, regret practically wafting off him, "There's nothing I can say to make it better." He said hoarsely, "I'm sorry, Padfoot, I'm so so sorry I wasn't there." He cried out.
"Padfoot, eh?" Sirius barked, a short nasty laugh following, "Like old times?" He asked, accusingly. He leaned forward, teeth bared, "You see Remus, I don't remember old times that well, something to do with the Dementor outside my cell sucking every single damn memory of that time out of my head in a slow neverending agony, as my body froze to death inch by inch as the dark magic seeped into the very bones of Azkaban pressed in, devouring everything that was me."
Sirius felt slightly detached as he watched tears running out of Remus' eyes as the werewolf cut himself in anger and sorrow, so hard was he pressing his fingernails into his thighs as he listened with horror at his story.
As with everything else lately, this was not a wholly emotional tirade from Sirius. He was mad at Remus, but also… He couldn't remember much of Hogwarts, and no one would sniff that out better than Remus, he wasn't the whole soul of the old Sirius Black, but with this… This excuse… Remus Lupin would not find it odd that Sirius Black had some holes in his knowledge.
He'd known he'd return one day. He couldn't miss the news, he would come, for one reason or another.
It felt so disingenuous to have crafted part of his response to Remus showing up. But he couldn't afford a loose variable like an old best friend. Especially one so close to Dumbledore.
For good reason. Sirius did not, like perhaps so many in a fandom once had, blame Remus for all of his shortcomings. Well, not too much… He was still a coward in some ways. But Remus had been allowed to enter Hogwarts thanks to Albus Dumbledore, to get a life, more than most Werewolves could dream of, so no, he didn't blame him for being loyal.
He himself didn't really see himself as a parent figure for Harry, so he could hardly blame the werewolf for running away from that responsibility. Although once he was at Hogwarts, that's where the cowardice struck and made him useless once again.
His loyalty to Dumbledore even further entrenched by then, his help to Harry, minimal.
But Sirius couldn't afford that loyalty, not for the world he envisioned. So, he needed this meeting to go as he wanted it to, or he needed to cut the wolf loose. Therefore he'd crafted his responses in advance, even utilizing Narcissa as a critical outside perspective. Well, some of them, he couldn't predict all of Remus actions or words, so he was improvising slightly too.
It didn't make him a good man, but it was necessary, he couldn't let Remus in and have him cut and run when it got too hard, not ever again. And with this, Remus could join him again, could see Harry, could have a life. All it would cost him was betraying the man who gave him a life to begin with.
Sirius didn't really see it as a betrayal this time, Dumbledore had betrayed the Marauders first.
"I can't even imagine, I deserved to be in there instead of you." Remus moaned, looking shattered. Knowing more than most about Dementors, he was likely imagining horrors even beyond what Sirius had described so far.
At least he wasn't apologizing again, Sirius detested them, empty words, meaningless. So easy to discard the moment things changed. The likes of Dumbledore loved apologies, never doing anything to change the outcome, just spouting words. No different than modern day politicians and their sayings of thoughts and prayers - instead of actual actions.
Words meant nothing without action to back them up. Too many people failed to realize it.
Sirius scoffed, drawing his old friend's wet eyes to his, "No one deserves that place, it needs to be destroyed." He said bluntly, watching for a reaction.
Out of all of them, Remus had been the most hesitant for any truly unlawful actions.
What little Sirius remembered from school showed that he himself had not been far off from becoming something much worse.
"I heard you were kissed. Read about it." Remus said quietly, his whole body tense, the words coming out after a few moments where they just sat in tense silence, watching each other. "If anyone knows that Azkaban needs destruction it's you, Sirius. If I can help, I will."
Sirius was still getting good press from his little statement at the end of his trial, surviving a Dementors kiss and claiming magic itself chose to protect him? A genius stroke that was still paying dividends.
"You can't afford to help me, you don't have the protection I do, you'd be destroyed immediately without anyone in your corner if you were found to be even thinking about destroying Azkaban. Sirius said with derision, but his sharp eyes watched the werewolf.
Remus met his eyes, he showed Sirius, without any compunction - the pain and sorrow in them, "I've abandoned my friends before, I won't again. Even if it kills me." It was final, and utterly seriously said.
Sirius could almost believe it. "Nice sentiment, but Dumbledore would never allow for any push against the status quo, and your loyalty is there, no?" He prodded, taking another messy swig of fire whiskey.
Remus looked pained, even as the wrinkles on his face seemed to clear slightly the longer Sirius talked to him, the longer he went without kicking him out. "Dumbledore helped me, that is true, I owe him a lot." Remus admitted, before turning hard yet warm eyes on Sirius, a tremulous smile on his worn face, "But I won't make the mistake of not choosing my friend, my brother, not ever again."
Sirius scoffed at the heartfelt declaration, but inwardly he felt it, felt kinship reignited, like a part of him that was missing was slotted back in. He reached over, and handed Remus the fire whiskey as a gesture, the werewolf clutching it like a lifeline, lip wobbling slightly as his emotions threatened to take over.
"I can't afford to trust like that. Not anymore, I can't even remember half the bloody shite we used to do, I remember us being friends, if we can manage that..." Sirius warned looking away from his friend, tacitly giving a small measure of forgiveness with one hand, as he laid down conditions with the other.
"I'll do anything, Padfoot, I have to make it up to you, to Lily and James, to little Harry. I have to repay my failures." Remus begged, holding the bottle of fire whiskey with hopeful desperation.
"An unbreakable vow, Remus, of no betrayal, it's the only thing I can trust right now." Sirius warned, wondering if he was laying it out too soon in the conversation.
He hadn't really thought Remus would be back for months yet, he hadn't planned his whole response out, had only begun to troubleshoot different avenues of coercion with Narcissa lately.
Without even the slightest hesitation, Remus replied immediately, "I'll do it."
His eyes were burning with determination, not a slightest hint of hesitation in him.
The wolf had not completely broken down yet, not like he would over a decade still to go - to the mild mannered coward who couldn't even talk to Harry, it seemed Remus could still surprise him.
Sirius couldn't hide a pleased smile as he called for Kreacher, he'd need to get someone over here as a binder, but all in all.
He'd gotten exactly what he wanted out of this meeting.
An old friend, and someone he could work with that he could trust, magic itself ensuring he wouldn't betray Sirius. He wouldn't run away this time.
He still held complicated feelings on the matter, part of him loved the idiot, part of him hated him, on some level he also understood him, making it all a jumble of emotions he didn't want to deal with, so he showed it in the back and concentrated on managing his old friend.
It would not be an easy road ahead - but Remus would make the perfect devil's advocate for him, and would literally be the angel on his shoulder ensuring Sirius didn't take a step too far, as well.
It was nice when things worked out.
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Sirius woke up to a thunderous noise, his head pounding, his mouth dry as the desert, as he tried to get out of bed to deal with whatever beast was bothering him so early. The action failed as he tumbled to the floor out of the armchair he had fallen asleep in, not his bed.
Why wasn't he in his bed?
"Ow." He muttered, as he blinked blearily, looking up at an unimpressed Narcissa, wand in hand, the originator of his pain.
"I can see your knickers from down here." Sirius said cheekily, albeit more weakly than his usual fare, refusing to completely back down from being caught having gone on a bender.
Also nice, witches had access to the nicest things…
Narcissa didn't move an inch, looking down at him with a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised and an unimpressed look on her face, "I'm not that kind of cousin, cousin." She said dryly, tapping her wand her hip.
Showed what she knew, almost all purebloods were exactly that kind of cousin.
"A shame, Lucius won the lottery getting both a Black and getting you, Cissy." Sirius muttered, laying his head back on the floor, he wasn't ready to get up yet, not until the Nundu's stopped stampeding across his skull.
Narcissa harrumphed, but she sounded pleased. Too pleased. Sirius opened an eye, peering up at her suspiciously, "What's got you so pleased this early, Cissy?" He asked, for the first time not glancing under her dress, actually fully focused on her face.
Narcissa smiled sweetly, "Well, as we are speaking of my Lucius, he'll be arriving for your meeting soon, as scheduled." She said pleasantly. Her grin was a little sharper than usual too.
The bitch was actually upset he'd forgotten the particulars of the schedule she'd drawn up, wasn't she?
Sirius groaned as forced himself into a seated position, grasping his head with one hand, "That's not until lunchtime… I think?" He protested, wincing as his own loud tone reverberated in his head.
"It's almost lunch time, Lord Black. Your… revel must have distracted you from such things as timekeeping and your schedule." Narcissa pointed out, lips twitching slightly, as she took in Sirius' state. His crumpled robes and bloodshot eyes. "I'm sure you'll give a great impression." She mocked lightly.
Sirius looked over at the armchairs, spotting almost a dozen bottles of different liquors, and no Remus. "What happened?" He asked, grasping the armchair for leverage to force himself into a standing position, glad that he managed it without upchucking.
If he did that in front of Cissy, he might have to actually consider killing himself, or everything.
"Your… Guest, showed more sense than you, according to Kreacher he passed out in a guest room around 4 am, while you continued for hours still on your own." Narcissa stated clinically, looking over the bottles, "I'm surprised you didn't need medical attention with that amount of alcohol." She pursed her lips slightly, shaking her head, "Should I consider getting you an attendant, my lord? Someone to look after you?" She teased, albeit in her own way.
Sirius didn't find it very funny, so obviously she wasn't very good at it yet.
Sirius groaned again, "How long do I have until your husband darkens my hall, Cissy?" He asked, voice raspy. He remembered… Singing? That can't be right. He doesn't sing.
Narcissa smirked, "Oh, about half an hour, my lord." She looked very smug about it too.
Fucking hell… "Kreacher!" Sirius called out, wincing as his elf popped into the room. Before he would hear any recrimination from his servant, he fired away some orders, "Clean up this mess, prepare my third fanciest robes, because I'm not bringing out the best for that peacock!" He said with a look at an amused Narcissa, "And get me some toast and a glass of orange juice in the bathroom, I need a shower and a shave immediately."
Kreacher nodded his tiny head, ears flopping about, "Yes master, Kreacher will clean up after master." The elf said, giving him a reproachful look.
"You don't say anything." Sirius warned Narcissa, a finger pointing at her accusingly, as he tried to regain some dignity from being found black out drunk.
Narcissa's eyes glittered with repressed mirth as she regally nodded her head, sweeping out of the room before Sirius. He grimaced, no doubt Lucius would hear all about it before the meeting.
Why in Merlin's name had he gotten that drunk?
Must be Remus' fault.
He certainly wouldn't have done it on his own.
That's it, Remus was just a bad influence on him. Just like their school days.
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Sirius was ready in record time, even managing to down a pain reliever potion with his breakfast/lunch, and most importantly, he kept it all down.
His office was cleaned up and Sirius was sitting at his desk, mostly hale and ready for this meeting, Narcissa escorting her husband through the town house. Kreacher followed them to ensure there were no little spells slipped through.
He doubted the Malfoy's would be that crass though, Narcissa would be well aware of the dangers of the wards here.
Sirius held those wards tightly, he didn't expect treachery from the Malfoy's, they were the kind to only do so in the moment most advantageous to them, and this wasn't it. This was Lucius sounding Sirius out, to see if they could come to an understanding of sorts.
Sirius wouldn't hold his breath. The most they might agree to was using each other for a moment.
… Not that way!
He liked Narcissa well enough. But she was family, Lucius wasn't. And he only marginally trusted her because family magic was keeping her from just blurting out any family secrets to Lucius. He did not trust Lucius one bit, and he very much doubted he'd ever like him.
He was well aware of the kind of scum he was. Death Eater. Murderer and worse. He could claim aristocracy all he wanted, he was a thug in a fancy robe beneath it all, beneath the sophisticated layers.
Soon enough the wait was over, Lucius Malfoy appearing in his doorway, Narcissa stepping back with just a light last touch on his shoulder, and a look at Sirius that he couldn't quite decipher.
Perhaps it was a please don't kill each other look? Which was ridiculous. Lucius couldn't kill him in his own home.
"Lord Black." Lucius Malfoy said coldly, with a - barely above rude - nod of his head, as he strode into his office, his pimp cane in hand, like Sirius, Lucius was pointedly not wearing his best.
It was going to be that kind of meeting. Neither of the two of them were the kind to give an inch, unless they had to, and neither of them liked the other very much. Or at all to be frank. Circumstances made for strange bedfellows…
And he really needed to stop making euphemisms about himself and Lucy in bed, or he really was going to vomit and he'd never survive the embarrassment, Sirius thought to himself. Letting none of it show on his face as he studied his cousin's husband.
Sirius was fairly certain Lucius would like to meet him in a dark alleyway someday just as much as Sirius would love the same opportunity. Decide things with their wands instead of this polite facade.
Although sometime in the future obviously, Sirius didn't make it a habit to fight unwinnable fights after all, and unfortunately, his time in Azkaban and his fragmented memory - did not make him a match for Lucius Malfoy in a duel, not yet.
"Lord Malfoy." Sirius acknowledged the dangerous man, gesturing for the seat in front of his desk, not bothering to bow his head, this was his seat of power, and his family was leagues above Malfoy anyway.
As Arcturus was fond of muttering when he thought Sirius couldn't hear it, they were upjumped Frenchmen. Only useful for their money and connections.
Unfortunately, that made them a lot more useful than most of the Blacks, in Sirius's opinion. Narcissa was the most useful of them all, and she had obvious divided loyalties, for all that she said she was loyal to him.
Sirius knew love well enough to not believe that. If the option was Draco or the Black family, Narcissa would slit his throat with a smile, never looking back. It's the main reason he dealt with her inside his seat of power. And why he was dealing with Lucius at all instead of just burning any connection.
Family. What can you do? Plotting their murder is too complicated, getting their assistance leads to nothing but plotting their murder. It was a vicious circle.
"My congratulations on your decisive handling of your trial and the aftermath, Lord Black." Lucius said, sitting down, cold eyes meeting Sirius's own. Assessing him, looking for any weakness.
"Thank you, I believe I owe you a small amount of thanks as well, Lord Malfoy, for attempting to stand up for me during said trial." Sirius said politely. Assessing him in turn, looking for a chink in the armor, a way to slither in and out-slytherin the snake.
Lucius smiled, but there was no mirth to be found in it, "They overstepped, I simply protected all of our kith and kins interests." He demurred.
Sirius was well aware of who was considered part of that interest. He smiled back equally as chilly, "Your son, Draco, I believe? He is well? Narcissa does mention him quite often." He asked, for politeness sake, he certainly didn't care much about the brat.
Not more than for ensuring he was never a threat to the little shits life, to ensure Narcissa didn't go after him, he needed her at least somewhat on his side.
But this was a dance between pureblood lords that simply had to happen before any business could be discussed. Tradition. They were all so endlessly trapped and bound in it - and so was Sirius, for now.
"He is well." Lucius said, with a proud tilt of his head, his whole posture radiating it. "And you, Lord Black? I trust your family has taken well to your return?"
Sirius smiled, tapping his ring on his desk twice, "It's been going as smoothly as such a reunion can go, lord Malfoy."
Malfoy was no doubt aware of his mother's disappearance, even if Narcissa was bound to not talk. He was too intelligent not to have sussed it out, if not the details, then the general matter.
And on it continued, small talk, recent sporting events, ministry gossip, twenty minutes of pointless dross just to be able to speak freely. A hold over from ancient times when such talk was necessary to see if anyone was dying from poison or a curse before the meeting began in earnest. All in all, Sirius was lucky, it used to go on for hours.
Trust magicals to invent pointless time wasting small talk to avoid wasting time in the meeting itself - in case half its participants dropped dead in the middle. One of those pointless exercises they'd kept even though it was no longer necessary. They could have just… Stopped murdering each other during meetings, but that apparently was too much to ask for.
Magic must remove common sense in people. He thought idly, as he continued inane small talk with the Death Eater. Both of them were bored out of their minds. But this was the business of Lords meeting outside the Ministry, where such pretenses could be dropped for efficiency. Not that they always were…
Finally, Sirius felt politeness had run its course, even Lucius beginning to look something other than prideful and cold.
"Your wife seems to think we could work together, Lord Malfoy. I have my misgivings, but I have an open mind." Sirius said slowly, gauging the other man's reaction.
Lucius simply raised an eyebrow, eerily reminiscent of Narcissa, before speaking. "That would depend entirely on what exactly you are setting out to do, Lord Black."
This fucker… Sirius knew that he knew what Sirius was after. But he wanted it from Sirius' mouth in case he'd reveal something he didn't know. "The Ministry. I want it, Lucius." He said succinctly, dropping the titles. Refusing to expand too deeply on what he wanted.
There, try and read something more into that you snob! Sirius thought viciously, not at all happy to even have this meeting, but knowing he needed to at least have a somewhat cordial relationship to keep Narcissa useful.
Lucius smiled sardonically, "So nothing much then, Lord Black." He murmured, stroking his pimp cane.
Sirius was well aware his wand was inside the cane, and he kept a tight leash on the wards in case the man was utterly foolish. He doubted it, but he wouldn't take risks, not with a Death Eater.
"I am not necessarily opposed to such an idea." Lucius said thoughtfully, his face still impassive and unemotional as he appeared to think it over, "If we had some common goals…"
Sirius smiled dangerously, "And what goals would those be? Because certain things will receive a response, Lucius…"
Lucius sighed, patting the snake motif head of his cane, "Not as onerous as you no doubt have imagined, Lord Black." He said in a dismissive tone, "You know as well as I do that a certain concession to our way of life is necessary for anyone to become the Minister. If you are against this, then I can not in good conscience assist you."
Sirius knew exactly what he meant by that. The privilege and loopholes meant to ensure that the Lords of the ancient families and the lesser purebloods - all got an easier ride when it came to everything.
That was exactly what Sirius was running to destroy. Not that he could ever publicly say so or he'd doom his attempt. "I'm willing to negotiate at some level, but all of the excesses allowed by the previous administration will not be allowed." He said reluctantly, and before Lucius could even try a rebuttal he spread his hands out, indicating himself, "As seen in my case, the law is not fully working as it should even in the cases of those of the highest standing."
He'd use that excuse and run with it, negotiate some kind of deal he could live with. For now.
Lucius paused momentarily, allowing a small agreeing nod, "Negotiation then," He said, "Tell me, what do you have in mind?"
Sirius wished he didn't have a hangover right now, this was going to be rough. At least it wasn't Narcissa, Lucius might be tough, but Narcissa was vicious.
"Let's start with the law as it pertains to this situation, considering my own mockery of a trial." He began.
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Sirius had never been happier to see a man leave than he was to see Lucius Malfoy step out of Grimmauld place. The man missed his calling as a snake oil salesman.
"Was that Lucius Malfoy?" A hesitant voice asked, coming up from behind him.
Sirius sighed, glancing back at Remus with a grimace on his face, "The one and only… Merlin, I think I preferred it when he threw Avadas whenever we'd run into each other." He joked, not entirely dishonestly either.
Killing each other was certainly easier than talking about laws and traditions and the more distasteful parts of pureblood society.
Remus silently offered Sirius his cup of hot chocolate, making Sirius perk up slightly, a twist of his lip coming unbidden, "Everything's better with chocolate, right, Moony?" He said lightly, in no headspace to have any serious conversation after the last few hours.
Remus smiled softly, "Yeah, it definitely is." He said, no judgment on his face and no questions on what he was doing with Lucius Malfoy. Their own detente was too fresh.
Sirius felt his spirit lighten slightly, no doubt there would be questions later at some point anyway, but this, this was nice. He'd lacked just the support of someone fully on his side. His family didn't really count. They were too old, racist and set in their ways to fully agree with Sirius. They just followed because they were bred to follow the lord.
Or in Arcturus' case, because he had no other option.
He took a sip of the hot chocolate, and then grimaced, "Remus… Did Kreacher make this for you?" He asked, a sliver of amusement shining through, even as he tried not to gag.
Remus furrowed his brow, looking from the cup to Sirius face, confused, "Yes…?" He said slowly.
"That explains it then." Sirius said, a wave of his wand banishing the crime of nature in a cup. "I haven't ordered him to treat you like a member of the family yet." I got drunk instead… That could have ended up a lot worse…
Remus followed him down the hallway, "Sirius? What was in that cuppa? Sirius… Padfoot!?"
Sirius whistled innocently as he continued on his way, he'd have to call Kreacher when he was alone and make sure the elf didn't do it again. How did he even manage to make a cup of hot chocolate taste like silver anyway?
He was a dangerous little bugger. Destroying the locket was probably the smartest thing Sirius had done since arriving here.
Being killed by a house elf would be too embarrassing.
No pureblood would take them seriously ever again.
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"Cornelius Fudge has announced his candidacy, I smell Bagnold all over it, Fudge wouldn't dare run against you in this climate without her backing." Arcturus said, folding the Daily Prophet up, a sliver of distaste in his voice.
Bagnold had gone from sometimes ally to absolutely hated in the old man's mind after the hit job of a trial concluded.
Sirius was nice enough to not remind the old man he'd supported Bagnold in that farce until his innocence was proven.
"I want to say he's not a threat, because he's a ridiculous little goblin of a man, but unfortunately I know better." Sirius said, making a face as he slowly worked his way through breakfast. The amount of potions he was still taking sometimes made it all a chore.
He'd gotten hell from his healer for missing one day when he'd been blackout drunk.
Not to mention the tirade he'd gotten when he'd stupidly admitted why he'd missed his doses.
He needed to remember he was a politician now, he should stop telling the truth so much.
"Fudge is a bottom feeder." Arcturus agreed with a grunt, "But as a counterweight to your progressive outlook," He said, with visible distaste on his face, as didn't agree with most of what Sirius wanted. "He's the perfect candidate for the view of keeping it as it is - something which has a large following…"
And wasn't that the perfect description of the wizarding world… Sirius thought with disgust.
"If that's a hint, grandfather, then no, I'm still not changing anything." Sirius pointed out dryly, "My campaign will be somewhat unorthodox that is true, but I have Dumbledore, Crouch Sr and others like them with a lot of backing in my corner - it should even it out."
Dumbledore alone would bring Sirius at least thirty percent of the public vote just because. Not as helpful in the Wizengamot, as his faction was likely to vote his way anyway.
"You need to announce it soon. You can't let Fudge and Bagnold steal the march." Arcturus said grumpily, the man getting grouchier for everyday now, Sirius plans becoming clearer to the old man the more blocks that were put in place for the foundation of it
Their arguments about it were useful for Sirius as practice, as the things Arcturus had an issue with and argued against - was exactly what other blood obsessed purebloods would argue against.
"I'll set something up with Narcissa." Sirius agreed, frowning minutely, it was unfortunate that his opponent declared first, but it was his own fault for delaying so long because of his attempts to gain control over the prophet.
Speaking off… "I need you to do something for me." He said, putting aside the empty potions vials, glaring at the solitary one left, deciding it could wait until he was finished, "I need you to go sit on Barnabas Cuffe for me."
Arcturus glared balefully at him, "I'm not an errand boy, send Pollux or Cygnus." He demanded, sending a dark sneer at the paper he'd deposited on the table.
Barnabas Cuffe was the editor of the Daily Prophet, Sirius could not get majority control, but he still held the most sizable single share. "I need you, Pollux and Cygnus are both blunt objects and in the second case, a brittle one. They won't be able to ride herd on the Prophet for me." Sirius explained bluntly.
Narcissa and Cassiopeia were both more useful in what they were already doing. And unfortunately to most, witches weren't as threatening as old lords.
A ridiculous notion, all the scariest people he knew were witches. Lily had scared him more than Voldemort at times. Voldemort would just torture or kill you. Lily would go for the jubblies. Sirius had never even heard of a castration hex until her.
Arcturus glared at him bitterly, a gnarled hand slapping the table in utter frustration, because he knew Sirius was right. "Cuffe is an ignoramus and holds no respect for anything outside of a galleon. Without majority control there's only so much I can do." He pointed out acerbically.
Sirius nodded, well aware of it, he sliced up his black pudding, taking a slow bite as he stared down his irate paternal grandfather.
Finally when he was done chewing, and letting Arcturus steam, he answered, "You're not there to control him, you're there to steer him, there's a difference. Manage the stories, we can't control it all, but we can direct them, whether through money, or threats of the Black family or repercussions from a new Minister if he moves too obviously against us."
"Fudge and Bagnold will make the same threat." Arcturus said, resigned to his new task, but not going down easily.
Sirius shrugged, "So what? Manage him, grandfather, keep it equal at the very least. Between Fudge and myself, if we're equal in press - I'll still come out on top." Sirius could definitely outcharm that bumbling buffoon when it came to the general populace.
Arcturus muttered something under his breath, but under Sirius stern gaze, he finally nodded his head, looking pained, "Fine, I'll do as you ask, I suppose I am the most suited to deal with this matter delicately."
Sirius would allow the man his delusions if it got the job done. Other than Narcissa, there wasn't a delicate bone in the family. Arcturus wasn't quite a bull in a china shop level, but he wasn't that far off sometimes. His old age and ailments have made him crankier, leaving him to forego some of the more tedious social constructs.
If he couldn't control the Prophet, then at the very least he needed to manage to make them neutral, or as neutral as anything in the magical world could be. With neither him nor his enemies with a clear majority, they'd make the editor dance between them.
Barnabas Cuffe's job was about to become a lot more difficult. Sirius would almost pity him.
If he wasn't in charge of a muck rack of a paper anyway - that wouldn't qualify for the news part of a newspaper anywhere else in the world.
He needed to institute some media laws at some point, they were just ridiculously under regulated. It was good for now that they only answered to the almighty galleon, but not so good for once Sirius was done reforming and giving the reins over.
Before they could move on to another item on the agenda, Kreacher popped into the room, an envelope on a silver platter for him.
Rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of the delivery - although likely something beaten into the elf's head since he was born - Sirius sent every detection spell he knew at the envelope, and only after it was all clear, did he take it. It paid to be very careful nowadays. The wards should stop anything iffy from coming through, but it didn't hurt to double-check.
"Expensive velium for a simple envelope… Someone's trying to get your attention." Arcturus noted, eying the envelope as Sirius opened it, taking out the no less expensive letter inside, the sender had even gone to the trouble to artfully decorate the borders of the letter. And it reeked of perfume to boot.
So it begins… He thought, grimacing, handing the letter off to his grandfather after giving it a quick read.
Sirius had known this would happen. And to think, he hadn't even announced his intentions yet, that would surely worsen the situation.
Arcturus snorted in amusement, having finished the letter. "Are you going to reply?" He asked, chortling to himself.
Sirius sent him a disgusted look, "No! What's wrong with them, a betrothal contract is one thing, however crass to send it without prior notice - but to add a love letter from a girl half my age…" Sirius would not ally with these kinds of people.
He hoped to god the parents had written the letter sight unseen from the girl, and that this wasn't the kind of thing young pureblood girls actually did nowadays. She was too young for him, and for that, and for anything to do with this at all!
The magical world was in desperate need for reform. He didn't care if it was traditional, it was wrong.
The sooner he tore it down, the better.
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Several days later found Sirius attending a ball at Bones manor, his goal set for the night, as he had leveraged his relevance to be the most valued guest of the party.
He had an ulterior motive to be here of course, one that would no doubt end up irking the good Amelia Bones in the end, so he ensured he was the perfect guest until his moment to shine.
Unlike most pureblood events, Amelia Bones held hers out of necessity more than any real wish to hold one - so it was much more low key and intimate then the usual extravagant balls that purebloods favored.
The food was exquisite of course, but this was definitely an event meant for dancing and socializing more than politicizing. Amelia's distaste for trading favors was well known.
Sirius had taken advantage to charm as many people as he could, as Amelia watched him like a hawk from a distance, obviously not trusting his intentions.
She was a scarily good copper really.
Sirius had just taken a break from a gathering of minor purebloods who'd been fairly easy to talk to for once, more interested in dueling and Quidditch than anything to do with the Ministry. He'd availed himself of some truly amazing aperitifs from the buffet style tables at the edges of the large banquet hall the ball was held in - when he was waylaid by a dainty hand stopping him in his tracks.
"The infamous Lord Black, all by his lonesome, can I perhaps steal a moment of your time?" The woman purred, as Sirius found his gaze drawn from her slender olive toned arm, to a gorgeous woman in a backless black evening gown that barely held her bountiful curvy body in, her exotic mediterranean beauty known across Britain.
As much desired as she was feared.
"Mrs Zabini." Sirius said smoothly, bending down to grasp her hand, kissing it softly, getting a throaty appreciative hum in return. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Isabella Zabini smiled, parting perfect full lips as she spoke with a slight accent, "It's miss Zabini now I'm afraid, my Lord." Her gaze was almost hypnotic as she put a certain distinction at the end of her sentence, "You may call me Isabella, a man such as yourself fascinates me so, I simply must get to know you better, my Lord."
Sirius grinned easily, taking her arm in his as they took a circuitous route around the dancing couples of the dance floor, "Then you may of course address me as Sirius, Isabella." He said gallantly. Playing along.
If she was after another rich husband, she was going to be disappointed. Yet, it could be more, after all, anyone seeing the black widow with him would suspect just that and stop paying attention. It's the perfect cover for a clandestine meeting.
Isabella led him into an alcove, turning around to look up at him with doe-like eyes and pouty lips; if Sirius didn't know better, he'd have believed she was as innocent as she appeared. Her hand returned to his chest, lightly stroking it as she breathed in deeply, intentionally, her bust straining with the deep breath and drawing attention, the cut of the dress not leaving much to the imagination.
Sirius felt his mood lessen, how annoying. It truly was as it seemed. Simply an attempt at seduction. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to meet me for, my lady?" He asked, more to get this over with then any interest now that her intentions were known.
For anyone else, he'd be interested to play, he still had time for a beautiful woman after all, but not here and now, and not with her.
Isabella quirked her lips, fingers lightly tapping his chest, "Well yes, everyone knows about your suave ways of course, we witches do read witch weekly, after all." She said with a teasing little laugh, her eyes glinting dangerously. "But what about the man underneath, I confess, I find myself…" She breathed in deeply again, meeting his eyes, "Fascinated…"
Before Sirius could answer and politely let the dangerous woman down, they were interrupted by the host. Amelia Bones herself entering their alcove, a sardonic smile on her lips, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She said drolly.
Sirius felt a sense of relief at the timely interruption, he wouldn't need to risk making the woman an enemy by turning her down. Her beauty was extraordinary, but sleeping with a black widow… Had consequences that merited caution. "Not at all, Amelia," He said easily, giving her a thankful smile, "Isabella and I were just getting to know each other."
Isabella smoothed out her expression and smiled pleasantly enough at their host, if you ignored her stormy eyes, "Thank you for inviting me, Lady Bones, I must admit I've been… Pleasantly surprised at the quality of your guests." Her eyes slid to Sirius, a pleased smile appearing on her face as she noticed him watching her.
"It's a surprise to me as well, Lady Zabini, as I don't remember inviting you." Amelia said dryly, ignoring the woman after that to focus on Sirius. "What are you up to, Black?" She asked bluntly, eyes narrowed.
Isabella made her excuses, shrinking back slightly from the serious expression of the head of the DMLE. Sirius watched her go with enjoyment. Just because it would be mad to actually touch her, didn't mean she painted a bleak picture walking away.
"Oh, just enjoying the party." Sirius said with a wink in Amelia's direction.
"I wasn't born yesterday, Black." Amelia pointed out, crossing her arms and raising an imperious eyebrow, waiting for a better explanation.
"Maybe I was just picking up a date." Sirius joked, nodding his head to the Lady Zabini who was making for the exit, hands clasped around the elbow of an older gentleman that she'd likely seduced to get into the party.
All to get at him, because he's rarely been seen in public. What a precocious man-eater she was.
And interesting that she'd known he'd be here… Simple guesswork, or more? He'd have to look into it.
Amelia scoffed, not changing her posture one bit, "You are not foolish enough to sink into that woman's claws."
"Maybe not, but what a way to go." Sirius winked at her again, laughing at her serious expression. "Oh, lighten up, Amelia, it's a party!"
"Yes. It's my party in fact. Which means I don't want any unknown factor messing it up and giving me more of a headache than organizing this waste of time already was." She said with a hint of bite to her tone.
Sirius hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, it seemed Amelia Bones the head of the DMLE for some reason thought he was up to no good.
Like he said… She's one hell of a copper. Hopefully she won't be too mad at him. She'll understand… After she's calmed down. Probably.
He'd ask Moody to do him a solid and talk her down. He owed him anyway. And he's used to losing body parts.
"I have a solution to this conundrum." He said dramatically, sliding his wand out of his sleeve, winking at the frowning Amelia who already managed to match him, her own wand in her hand, although slightly pointed away from him, so far.
Sirius cast a non verbal sonorus on himself, stepping out of the alcove. Amelia following him with an expression of a woman that's contemplating just stunning him, and wondering if it was worth the parchment work.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what a party we have on our hands tonight! A splendid location and terrific food and dancing, Lady Bones has truly outdone herself." Sirius said cheerfully, drawing a light applause from partygoers as they turned their attention to him.
Several guests looked hungry as they noticed it was him. Sirius really needed to find himself someone, or a fake someone at the very least.
"As my good friend Lady Bones deigned to invite me to this splendid ball, I thought it only right that I took this time to speak out on a matter of great importance!" He continued, taking on a more serious tone.
"Our great nation is at a precipice, teetering at the edge of losing our supreme status amongst the many nations of the world, stuck in a rut of incompetence and corruption. It is time for a new voice, one with the ancient history to know what is right, behind them."
Sirius let his small speech settle amongst the crowd of purebloods and ministry officials. His smile grew toothy as he spotted Bagnold in the back, face white and her countenance seething. Her little puppet Fudge next to her looking uneasy, both knowing exactly what was coming.
Sirius had chosen this party partly because they'd be here after all. The second reason was because of Amelia. The perception alone would benefit him, if she didn't kill him.
"I, Lord Sirius Orion Black of the ancient and noble house of Black, Magic's own chosen one, will run for the position of Minister of Magic, and I will once again make this nation the greatest on earth, may Merlin be my witness!"
Now it begins, my time, my rise!
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Author's note:
No, Sirius and Lucius are not best buds now, more like allies of convenience. And no, the shares for the Daily Prophet weren't even broached by Sirius. He wouldn't be willing to pay what Malfoy would want for them and he knows it.
Narcissa is between both families here, not an envious position, but for a pureblood lady raised on intrigue? She's probably having the time of her life. Being a housewife at Malfoy Manor can't be too much fun after all.
I'm not going to be making Remus quite the milquetoast person he was in HP canon. Or to me he appeared as such anyways. Here he hasn't had over a decade to completely lose whatever bite he still had from the war.
Obviously he's still full of guilt and self loathing though.
Amelia might be a tad bit upset now. Sirius will have to buy her something nice.
So this story struggled for a bit, writer's block kicking my ass, but here we are, back in the saddle again!
The story tied for first on Patreon vote so it helped motivate me to get off my ass and take some unforgivables to that writer's block.
Time for some dirty smear campaigns to begin to be set up and with a little revenge served up on the side. He's a Black after all, a little dirty pool is par for the course.
More of a bridge chapter before more important events coming up, hopefully not too boring.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool, no money is being made on my end.
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Grimmauld Place, London.
Sirius frowned minutely as he read the paper, before folding it up and tossing it on the table in disgust, looking over at Remus where he sat at the other end of the kitchen table, dressed in a quality robe for once - albeit a comfortable lounge around the house type robe.
Getting rid of all of Remus old clothes was one of the best things he'd ever done for the man really, people might talk all they want about people's personality and that dross - but in reality, well dressed and good looking people got taken more seriously - and were treated better, as a matter of course.
It was just the way of the world. Any world.
"I don't know how they get away with writing this swill… Fudge being described as heroic is an absolute laugh - even if by necessity they had to be extremely vague on what 'heroics' he's supposedly done." Sirius muttered angrily, referring to the Daily Prophet, put off his breakfast by that simpering brown nosing excuse of an article. He barked out a laugh, lips twisted in distaste, "The most heroic thing Fudge has ever done was daring to show his face with a name like Fudge…"
Really, how he managed to succeed canonically, being such a caricature as he was and is…
Remus peered at him curiously, his face almost hidden by the cloud of steam wafting from his extra large cup of hot chocolate. "Are you upset about the article? Or about the fact the writer was bought by Bagnold and Fudge before you could buy them?" He asked archly, taking a long deep sip of his drink.
He'd already checked it for silver, of course.
Kreacher was not happy about having a half breed move in, even though the elf was nominally a better 'person' nowadays, he still had his moments. It's not that easy to revert from decades of racism. Especially when most of the family still quietly believed it, behind Sirius's back.
Sirius had ordered the elf in numerous ways to not harm Remus, but there were always loopholes, albeit they seemed to be shrinking by the day, as Remus hardly ever got randomly poisoned or tripped over by randomly waylaid axes anymore.
Remus had spent an entire day chasing the elf up and down the property the other day because of the itching powder in his underwear, never realizing that Sirius had been feeling nostalgic that day.
He'd had some decent mood swings lately, it was a bit concerning, really.
Sirius took a sip of his own hot chocolate, (Remus had insisted) making a face at the all too sweet drink this early in the morning. "It's not about that…" Sirius said irritably, frowning at Remus' skeptical look, "Okay, so maybe it's a little about that." He admitted begrudgingly, "Mostly it's this ridiculous farce about painting Fudge as some sort of war hero, never once mentioning for what exactly. There's being bought, and then there's just being bloody insane!"
The aftermath of Sirius's own announcement to run for Minister had been a sobering reality check.
Having acquired Dumbledore's support - and forced the old man to express it loud and clear, he had the popular vote practically locked from the word go. This was aided further by the fact he was rich, good looking and charming - as a juxtaposition to Cornelius Fudge who was… Not.
He was a potato with a funny looking hat on top, in Sirius' modest opinion.
Yet he'd underestimated just how much the status quo meant to the purebloods, even with all his overtures and the hidden support from the Malfoys… They were still flocking to Bagnold and Fudge, providing money and a reputation boost - as all these pillars of the community kept giving interviews about all the good their dear friend Cornelius had done for the magical world.
Always lacking any specifics on what actual good he's done of course…
Considering Sirius wasn't even telling anyone about the actual radical policy changes he wanted to implement, it was a sobering wake up call. He was being as lame and vanilla as possible - and the old fossils were still all panicking and grouping together to defeat him.
Remus looked somewhat pained, their friendship only recently reestablished, the man had been trying to keep his opinions low key as to not sour their newfound equilibrium. He wasn't overly practiced in hiding his expression however and Sirius immediately noticed it.
Sirius waved a hand at him irritably, "Go on then, I can see you've got something simmering in that big brain of yours."
Remus hesitated, using another sip of his hot chocolate as an excuse to draw out the silence as he gathered his thoughts, finally setting his cuppa down and speaking up after a few minutes of introspection. "I don't mean to sound critical, Sirius, Merlin knows I have no right of it, not after everything…"
Sirius rolled his eyes irritably, already sick of all the variations of self pity over his incarceration, he gestured vividly to get on with it, Remus ducking his head guiltily.
"It's just… Your campaign is doing the exact same thing," He said hurriedly, "Not that you are in the same boat as Fudge, you actually fought in the war, you signed up as an Auror, but… You're not the hero your campaign is painting you either."
Sirius gave him an annoyed look, lips thinned together in a grimace, "Alright, no breakfast for me, I'm decidedly put out from it after being compared to Fudge of all people." Sirius said, pushing his plate of rashers and eggs away with one finger, "Please tell me you've got some point your building towards, Remus?"
Remus nodded, still looking uncomfortable to criticize Sirius at all, even to that small level, their situation too new, both of them tiptoeing around trying to figure each other out.
Remus wet his lips, eyes turning down towards the paper, "Instead of continuing to try and out hero each other… Why don't you just push his record out there? I'm sure his grades weren't anything spectacular, his career hasn't even been overly impressive either, beat him over the head with just how unremarkable he is - sell it to those high snobs just how incompetent he is, make it risky to gamble on him being able to hold the reins for long - before being toppled or screwing it up."
Sirius smirked, leaning forward over the table towards his old/new friend, "Remus… Are you telling me to go ahead and destroy my opponents credibility and sense of self worth?" He asked with a wicked grin growing on his face.
It wasn't a bad idea really, the old fops loved stability, well except the Death Eater types - but if they could be convinced Fudge wouldn't last a year…
Remus muttered something under his breath, breathing in the fumes from his still steaming hot chocolate, (magic hath its privileges) "Yes I suppose I am." He admitted, meeting Sirius' eyes in a mix of fondness and wariness, "He's not going to play nice, and he's an objectively worse candidate, so perhaps you need to go back to what you always cautioned me was the Black way…"
Sirius grinned, a thread of something vicious underneath as he met Remus eyes, "And that would be?" He asked playfully, having a good idea, but not fully remembering that time, so making sure.
Remus smiled wryly, shaking his head, "If you're not doing it dirty, you're not doing it right."
Sirius barked out a laugh, "That… Is exactly the right idea, mate!"
Sirius had used that saying for a lot of things, including sex advice for a nervous James Potter - he'd mostly done it as a prank of course, figuring he'd end up with his bollocks hexed off, but apparently Lily had hidden depths.
Probably not a story about his parents that he'd share with Harry later, or he could save it for the talk. Something to think on.
Although he'd definitely contract out the talk, he had Remus now, he could do all that unpleasant work.
He pulled his plate back towards himself, suddenly ravenous, he could do dirty, he'd been holding off on it, not going full out yet, but what better time than now?
And if he could get some revenge too at the same time… His eyes glinted with malicious intent.
Well, that would just be the cherry on top, wouldn't it?
Remus sighed, looking like he regretted his life choices as Sirius cackled quietly, but it soon turned to a smile on his weary face.
This was a dynamic they were both used to.
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Shortly after breakfast, Arcturus dropped in as Sirius was doing some parchment work, dealing with the thousands of little rules that existed around their elections, a really complex set of legislation that mostly existed to make it bloody painful to run at all.
Arcturus walked straight over to the bar, pouring himself a drink without as much as a word, Sirius raising a questioning eyebrow as he looked up from the parchment work. "That bad?" He asked, frowning.
"Barnabas Cuffe is a cretin!" Arcturus huffed, taking a long slow drink of his poison of choice.
Sirius studiously ignored his own hypocritical drink sitting at his desk despite the early hour. He was lacking in sleep lately, nightmares of Azkaban pressing in on him again, the alcohol helped soothe him for the day.
His eyes darkened as he thought of everyone that had taken part in sacrificing him, but the thoughts on revenge linger….
Perhaps that is why his nightmares wouldn't let go, because he hadn't demanded restitution yet…
"You already know he is scum, what else is new." Sirius said bitterly, reaching for his own glass, waving with the other hand for the old man to sit.
Arcturus scoffed darkly, mouth drawn into a thin line as he sat gingerly, looking frail, "Let an old man complain." He complained, "I've impressed upon him the necessity to keep articles published in the same vein going forward, not allowing total hit pieces on either side without facts."
Sirius scowled, still upset by his failure to acquire the paper, "Painting Fudge as some kind of hero is farcical…"
Arcturus looked at him with an expression of displeasure, "Don't be daft…" He saw Sirius darkening visage and hurriedly added, "My Lord…" He took another sip to steady himself before continuing, "It's vague as can be, just fluff and nonsense, he can hardly refuse to print it, there are no facts to check or disprove, because they specifically never mention a single thing to fact check."
Sirius nodded his head grouchily, pushing aside his parchment work to stand up and pace, feeling jittery, and weary. "I get it, I do, but I'm having a hard time handling all this with these Merlin damned dark impulses I have to keep back." He growled low in his throat, "Part of me wants to take revenge on everyone that wronged me, even as I logically deduce that I can't, if I want to achieve what I need."
Arcturus scoffed, lips curling into a sneer, "Sirius, you're a Black…" At Sirius's sarcastic look, he continued before Sirius got a chance to reply, "Dark impulses are practically part of your inheritance." He leaned forward, putting a bony hand on the desk, "The trick isn't to ignore them, it's to put them to use effectively."
Sirius scowled, his bitterness increasing by the minute as he focused on the injustices done by allies and friends. "I can't afford to fall into that trap."
There was a reason for the saying about digging two graves if one sought out revenge.
"Think, boy!" Arcturus barked out, "Yes, going on some hairbrained scheme for revenge is idiotic and bound to sink you more than anything, but it does not mean you give up on it and stew in resentment, that will only lead you to making a mistake down the road as everything you've held back bubbles up to the surface!"
Sirius laughed, sinking back into his chair, stopping his pacing, his gaze sardonic as he stared his grandfather down, "Are you my therapist now?" He mocked, "Or do you actually have anything tangible to say?"
Arcturus glared at him, finishing off his drink, before standing up, brushing his robes off, "Be intelligent about it, my Lord… If your goals and revenge aren't compatible at the outset, then find avenues where they intersect and get revengewhile advancing another goal, add it as a step to the plan, not as its conclusion."
Sirius glared at the old man as he walked out of his office, hating the realization that he'd just acted like a petulant child. Sleep issues or not, he shouldn't allow such weakness to take over. If necessary, he decided, he would take dreamless sleep potions again. He couldn't afford to make a misstep due to something as simple as lack of sleep.
As for revenge… Perhaps the old man was onto something there. He didn't want to leave them all off scot free, but he'd decided he couldn't afford to go after them either - not if he wanted that Minister's position.
Yet… If his rage would just keep building… There were surely some small simple things he could begin with in regards to pay back a little of what's owed?
Either in a way that won't harm him, or in a way that gets him something he wants while having the secondary purpose of making things harder for those that had abandoned him to Azkaban.
He didn't want to stew in the matter, focusing too hard on revenge, because that way lay only bitterness, hate and destruction.
But ignoring it wasn't working either, it too held too much bitterness.
Perhaps revenge, like everything else, would be better in moderation?
He eyed the glass of alcohol, grimacing, he wasn't the best at moderation lately…
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Later that day, Grimmauld Place,
Of course, Sirius couldn't begin immediately in his plots to extract revenge nor his plans on starting to make Fudge appear the fool. Adding Bagnold for that matter to the plan as well while he was at it…
Why?
Because one did not stand up Narcissa Malfoy when one had an appointment with her.
No matter how much he wanted to, knowing the subject matter.
It was his own fault, he'd scheduled the meeting. As much as he hated the matter they'd be discussing, he knew it was necessary, so he'd have to take the graphorn by the horn and suffer through it.
"What about this one, Fiona Fawcett?" Narcissa asked primly, sliding a folder over to him, the other side of his desk already full of discarded folders.
Narcissa had arrived with a large imposing stack of the things, all filled with eligible women of different qualities, sorted by possible alliances, business ties and voting power in the Wizengamot, all taking precedence over any silly things like personality or looks.
You'd think with magic there would be a lot less issues in fixing yourself up to not look like a troll, but it appeared many either did not bother or hadn't the magical skill to do it.
Sirius didn't even open the folder in front of him, just groaning, head in his hands, regretting every life choice ever. "Surely being married doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things?" He complained, even knowing as he did that he was simply trying to avoid the matter, because he knew it mattered.
He knew damn it, that's why he was doing it, but it felt too much like being at the bloody market and choosing which cut of meat to purchase.
All that was missing from this was the poor women themselves being delivered so he could check their weight and give their rump a good slap!
Narcissa gave him an unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised in derision, "If I wasn't already married to Lucius, I'd marry you myself, Sirius, if only to ensure you were kept firmly on track." She stated dryly, for all appearances speaking completely truthfully.
It was really hard to tell with her, she could be lying and he'd never know, or worse, telling the truth.
Now there was a horror scenario…Although she was one hell of a fine bird… No, Bad Sirius, down! Sirius drug a hand down his face, trying to wipe the thought of him and Narcissa from his consciousness, "Cissy… Must you make me suffer like this?" He asked grouchily.
He'd spent the whole morning so far in the office, running on hardly any sleep, and probably having had one too many drinks for what could be considered healthy.
He was fully aware that he was the one ultimately in charge, that he was the one that ordered this search be set in motion - but he didn't like it, so he was going to complain anyway.
It was one of the benefits of being in charge.
She looked at him like he was a particularly misbehaving dog, her nose upturned snootily as she sat before him in a sapphire blue robe that left her long legs naked up to the knee, "If you wish to be treated seriously Lord Black, act like it." She said firmly, pushing the folder towards him again, one finger planted in the middle of it, "Fiona Fawcett." She repeated, staring him down. "This is a serious endeavor, do not make light of what could possibly be your future wife."
"But I am Sirius!" Sirius said with a wink, only getting an unimpressed stare in return, grumbling he opened the folder to see a magical photograph of a gorgeous girl, short and pixie like in appearance, the picture giving off a bubbly vibe as if the girl couldn't keep still.
Perhaps a good match all in all, she was a pureblood, from good stock, (He hated that it mattered) She had good connections, or at least her family did - which would do well for his ambitions, bringing in other families on his side… She was also from all appearances - not old enough. He flipped to the bio Narcissa had drawn up, brow rising in disbelief, he was potently unimpressed as he slammed the folder shut, leveling a displeased stare at Narcissa. "She's sixteen!"
He knew he had somewhat of a reputation, one he hadn't exactly disabused with his actions so far, but she couldn't really believe…?
Narcissa shrugged lightly, seemingly nonplussed, "She'll be seventeen in two months, in perfect time for the wedding."
Or… She could. Damn. This is not kosher.
Sirius burned the folder to cinders with a stab of his wand, while meeting Narcissa's eyes seriously, "No." He said firmly, lips pressed tight. He needed to do this, he could acknowledge that, but he wasn't saddling some poor sixteen or seventeen year old with his baggage - nor was he into school girls.
Narcissa sighed, but quietly acquisited, flipping through the folders she still held, discarding six!
It wasn't a high percentage considering how many folders she'd brought, but six underage girls was still six too many…
Everyday he kept being reminded why he was doing this in the first place… He needed to change this world.
"You'll have to actually start taking this seriously, or you'll be too late to make any difference." She warned, giving him another folder. "Depending on the family, they will not be impressed with anything less than months of courtship."
Left unsaid was that any election was likely only months away to begin with, unless they pulled the trigger on kicking Bagnold out sooner than that. He was running out of time.
And unfortunately, while he could swing the whole bachelor state to the public, it didn't do as well with the ultra traditional Wizengamot.
He looked in the folder, blanching and throwing it away. He was an ambitious man, but he wouldn't marry a troll, no matter the connections.
If he wanted any hope of swaying some of the swing votes amongst the more traditional families - he needed a pureblood wife. And the better connected and beautiful the more it would help him.
If only the black widow wasn't a murderess, she'd be perfect.
"No chance of just marrying a Veela instead?" He asked, more as a distraction as he tried to sort the various prospects he'd gone through in his mind. There were frightfully few that were palatable, the Fawcett slip of a girl being the least objectionable - if only she were a few years older. Like at least 21.
Narcissa smirked, handing him another folder, her face looking twice as beautiful without the placid resting bitch face she kept it at, "You'd probably be able to make it work, except most of them are French."
Sirius wrinkled his nose, accepting defeat.
It was one thing to marry what some thought of as half breeds.
It was an entirely different matter to marry a Frenchwoman.
He'd be chased out of Britain for that one!
"Give me the next one." He said with a deep weary sigh, knowing he was faced with the decision shortly, no matter what his feelings on the matter was.
At this point, killing Lucius and marrying Narcissa seemed alot easier.
It would make him Draco's step daddy however, and while Sirius wasn't necessarily opposed to murder, or hot cousins, in theory… Not the first time he'd had that thought either, but...
He drew the line at having Draco fucking Malfoy calling him daddy.
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Sirius left his meeting with Narcissa feeling drained and uncomfortable, wife shopping felt inherently wrong - something he'd have to fix eventually, because he just knew some of those women and girls - wouldn't be given the choice to say no, if he'd picked them.
So he settled down with the proverbial poison pen, preparing to start the slow broil of revenge. He still agreed with his earlier decision to not put much focus on getting revenge on those that actively failed him and went after him.
But not sacrificing his political ambitions on ridiculous revenge schemes, didn't mean he needed to leave them completely alone either. There were plenty of things he could do to make people's lives more complicated, even if they were petty.
Arcturus had been right, he could advance his goals and be petty and extract a measure of revenge as well as a side benefit.
Sirius didn't mind being petty at all. Especially as his first salvo could be completed with some simple letter writing campaigns. One of the many benefits of being Lord Black was that his words were taken fairly seriously. So when he sent a letter to someone, they would not ignore it.
Especially not if he made it even slightly official, hinting at making it fully official and released to the press if people were uncooperative. He needed to begin chipping away at Dumbledore slowly, in a manner where it wouldn't even seem like he was the one targeted.
Sirius wanted revenge on him more than any of the others. He still intended to force the old man to see Sirius achieving everything he didn't have the balls to do - but it didn't mean he couldn't create some headaches for him in the meantime.
So he started with the Potion's Guild. Although Severus Snape hadn't really done anything to him, per say. And the antics at school in a lifetime of memories away were not anything that overly concerned him - he knew just how much of a spiteful bastard the man was. And the fact he continued to get away with it and his Death Eater past, didn't sit right with him.
He knew seeing him dead or in Azkaban was too much, he was still regrettably useful. Although if they could get all the Horcruxes before Voldemort returned - his use would disappear and he could be removed with prejudice from his cushy position.
Any attack on Snape would burn Dumbledore's capital to protect him, and chip away at his infallible old wizard in his tower image.
Sirius was drafting a letter to question Snape's credentials. It would likely not end up passing muster after an investigation, but just the fact he'd be investigated at all, would both infuriate the man, and let him know he was on notice. And if he was lucky, they'd actually find something or Snape would refuse to cooperate at all.
With a small leak to the Daily Prophet he could ensure that everyone knew Snape's credentials were in question and being investigated. Them later being confirmed (possibly) would hardly even pass as news, people tended to remember the scandalous news much better than the plain old truth.
Snape wasn't yet that entrenched in his potions professor position that he could just shrug off this attack on his capabilities and history. Dumbledore would have to step in to defend him.
But the Potions Guild was international, and not beholden to Dumbledore, so he wouldn't be able to stop an investigation from taking place.
There were very few British men and women in the Potions Guild all things considered, so Dumbledore was weak in the international guilds thanks to his mismanagement of Hogwarts producing so few slavishly loyal adherents of his that could enter those hallowed halls.
That's what happens when you lower the quality of teachers and subjects to fit your social experiments…
Whereas at the other side of the coin, Lord Black held a certain reputation and sway due to family, but mostly due to the money. Guilds liked money. They were scientists and researchers on one hand - and merchants on the other - both sides loved cash.
The avenue Sirius was taking to really nail the bastard - was Snape's Death Eater past. Painting a picture for the Guild, Severus Snape partnering constantly with the potions genius (Slughorn confirmed) Lily Evans, the muggleborn… Despite already being in Death Eater circles.
How he just happened to always have perfect potions just like her.
Of course they likely practiced them together - but it only needed to sound true, Snape wasn't a likable man, the appearance of something believable would taint him enough, even if later proved untrue. Especially as Snape was arrogant enough he might simply refuse to participate in the investigation, which would neatly make it impossible for him to prove differently.
Severus Snape the Death Eater, becoming the youngest potion master in history, while Lily Evans dies, any recipes for new potions or improvements suspiciously not found amongst her belongings - despite her potions genius. Almost like someone had already stolen them.
It's not like she could complain - she went into hiding, just in time for Severus Snape to get his potions mastery - targeted by Death Eaters she was…
What a coincidence, right?
The Death Eaters were competent users of the unforgivables… Sirius would ask the Guild the question, what assurances do they have that the confirmed Death Eater did not steal or appropriate the potions he submitted for his mastery? What assurance do they have that Lord Voldemort did not provide him with the knowledge to assist Snape into his title - to make it easier for him to sneak into Hogwarts for his master?
His number one question - could Snape verify under a truth ritual or Veritaserum that he had never used an unforgivable for this, that he'd never used one on Lily Evans.
If Snape refused to undergo this, he'd drag his reputation down even if everyone involved knew he didn't steal his potions knowledge. And if he agreed, then he'd confirm his active participation as a Death Eater and his use of Unforgivables, destroying what reputation he had left anyway.
Which would create a huge headache for Dumbledore as rumors are one thing - actual proof of unforgivables is another.
Pardoned or not, that won't look good for Snape - or the one that gave him that pardon, and the Potions Guild might sanction him just to cover their asses.
He'd be fucked either way no matter how it went at that point, even if he'd likely hold onto his professorship thanks to Albus Dumbledore and his puppy dog eyes.
It was only the start of his revenge on those that wronged him, or would wrong Harry Potter or the world later. But it would set the ball rolling, would inconvenience both Snape and Dumbledore, and even if it failed, would still hurt their reputations, making it easier for another stage later to stick.
It was just the first salvo of many, Dumbledore would eventually fall, a death of a thousand cuts would fell the giant.
His lips twitched in dark humor as he added the last few lines to his inquiry.
If Snape - as Dumbledore postulated in his testimony - was a spy, secretly working for their side. Then how did Peter Pettigrew go unnoticed - how did Sirius end up in Azkaban - how did Lily Potter end up dead, no potions notes of note anywhere - how did James Potter, Snape's rival and school enemy, end up dead in this betrayal - Snape walking away with everything, just by chance?
Can the Potions Guild confirm that Severus Snape was not a member nor earned his title through illegal means?
Sirius smirked as he sealed the letter with his signet ring. Even those believing in Dumbledore fully, and therefore trusted Snape fully - would have second thoughts for a while with this, especially once the Guild would have to open an investigation. They had no choice with a Lord openly questioning them in this manner.
International remit withstanding, a powerful pureblood lord was not something a guild could just ignore completely, it risked their status too much if the different legislatures around the world, controlled by the pureblood elite, began to go after them for perceived slights.
A small donation offered to 'assist' them in the matter would speed things along nicely as well, as those things usually did.
He scrawled down a reminder on the calendar filled with naked muggle women that he'd hung on the wall behind his desk, hidden behind a portrait whenever someone important was visiting, but there now, for Sirius to note down to remember to leak the Potions Guilds investigation on Snape to the press once it started.
It was horribly out of date, having once been in his teenage room, but it was nostalgic.
He rose up from his desk, another small note in his hand that he'd just scrawled. "Kreacher!" He called out.
With a pop his servant appeared before him, bowing his head subserviently. "Master called Kreacher?" He mumbled out, his usual scowl almost pleasant looking today.
Sirius handed him the note, "Deliver this to Professor Mcgonagall at Hogwarts, wait for a reply and bring it back to me immediately."
Kreacher wasn't one for small talk, he immediately popped away once it was obvious Sirius had no further orders, off on his task.
Sirius walked over to the enchanted window in his office, hands behind his back as he stared out over the Thames, not as it was now, but as it was several hundred years ago, the wonders and weirdness of magic never ceased to amaze him.
Watching the river flowing through a different London, a different time, before the onset of the industrial revolution, was oddly soothing.
He waited several minutes, just staring out at the river, pondering recent events, going over his marriage prospects, begrudgingly picking a list of top three choices. He'd need a partner for this whole Minister thing…
He grimaced at the thought of having to stop sleeping around, he'd barely started enjoying his new life.
Kreacher popped back before he could spiral further into disquiet over the possibility of marriage with someone he'd grow to hate. Acknowledging he was unlikely to be a good man or one often at home, making it a poor deal for any poor woman.
Sirius turned to his elf, taking the small piece of parchment offered, raising an eyebrow at the answer within.
"Very well." He muttered, "Kreacher, prepare my most official robes, I will be going as Lord Black today." He ordered, crumpling the note in his hand, face hard and unyielding.
Minerva McGonagall had testified against him at his trial. Had pissed all over the Marauders, twisting reality to suit her feelings on the matter. He couldn't remove her, she was too useful where she was, and it would create a public outcry if he tried.
But that didn't mean that he couldn't punish her for her temerity in helping in the efforts to send him back to Azkaban.
4 o'clock at the three broomsticks, the note had said, rejecting his offer of meeting in her office.
Whether it was an effort by Dumbledore to keep him out of Hogwarts, or McGonagall herself trying to offer an olive branch by meeting in a less official setting, he didn't know, nor did he particularly care.
He burned the note with a wave of his wand, coolly watching the ashes flutter down to the carpet.
This wouldn't bring forward his plans for the Minister's seat, it wouldn't have anything to do with that push at all. Well… There were some small things she could do…
All in all though, he wasn't meeting her for the purpose of his ambitions.
But it would feel bloody good anyway and put the old cat down a peg, it was worth wasting an afternoon on… And if he could finagle a small benefit out of it as well, then he'd neatly gotten a small measure of revenge while still moving the plan forward.
He'd give her the same consideration she'd given him and his fate, he thought, fists clenched.
None.
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Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks.
Sirius arrived at the three broomsticks a bit early, so instead of heading up towards the backrooms, of which he'd already hired one for an hour, using Kreacher as the messenger - he headed towards the bar, and the lovely Madame Rosmerta.
"Sirius Black, in the flesh!" Rosmerta said gaily, giving him a long once over, a slight flush to her cheeks that he imagined was because of his own debonair personage. "Or is it Lord Black today, fancy as we are?" She asked, tongue in cheek, fanning herself exaggeratedly.
Sirius leaned up against the bar, sending her a suave smirk, "You, Rosmerta, can call me anything you'd like!" He offered, not opposed to the eyes she was sending him.
There was a reason everyone thirsted for the woman, she was very gifted. And had a flirtatious happy attitude about things that drew you in. She could appear warm and comforting if she sensed that's what you needed, or she could be raucous and flirtatious, driving swathes of students into puberty just by her presence.
With the bitterness, descent into alcoholism, and shivering memories of Azkaban that was plaguing him lately - she was a breath of fresh air.
She slapped him lightly with a cleaning towel, a flirtatious smirk blooming onto her face, "Cad, I'll call you a cad! My Lord!" She laughed, a tinkling and amused laugh - the patrons around them all giving Sirius dirty looks for monopolizing her attention.
Things changed over the years, but Rosmerta's hold on the entirety of the population around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts didn't. At a gesture from Rosmerta, her staff took over most of the work, the beautiful proprietor focusing on him.
Not that all the customers left immediately, since they weren't really at the bar to pick up drinks…
Sirius smirk widened, even as he grasped Rosmerta's hand, giving it a quick kiss, "I would never dishonor you, Rosmerta! Disrobe, perhaps, but never dishonor!" He promised cheekily.
Rosmerta roared with laughter, her cheeks reddening even more, even as she slapped Sirius hand away lightly, "You haven't changed a bit! You always were the suave little seducer, I half expected to see you bogged down with half a dozen little ones."
Her expression briefly turned guilty as she realized why he couldn't possible have begun spawning too much, but true to form, she pushed away that depressing thought and smiled prettily again, leaning forward to apologize for bringing up bad memories by giving him a good view down her cleavage.
Sirius gave her a crooked grin, doing her the favor of looking, taking the silent apology, "Not yet Rosie, perhaps soon." He answered her, making a hush motion with one hand, "I'm thinking of settling down soon as a matter of fact." He couldn't hide the hesitation in his voice, still uneasy about the whole thing, even as he tried to play it off.
Rosmerta stepped closer, waving off any left over customers to one of her staff, leaving her and Sirius alone at the end of the bar, Rosmerta leaning over it in a way that practically popped her bosom out of her top, giving him a nice view irregardless. "Well, she'll be a lucky lady, especially with the recent findings from Witch Weekly about you." Rosmerta said slyly, nudging him slightly, teasing him.
Sirius groaned, putting his head in his hands, "That damn article, she certainly didn't tell me she was going to write about our 'experience' like that."
It was good for his reputation at the same time as it was bad for his reputation, but it was also a bit bloody embarrassing to get called out for it. It was different if he played it up in the first place, then he could act all prideful over it, he'd just sound like an ass if he did it now…
Rosmerta laughed again, which did wonderful things to her… Assets. Her rosy plump lips were pouting cutely as she eyed Sirius with mischief, "You know, I always thought you were all talk no action, the kind of little boy who bragged a lot but had nothing to back it up with…" She said leadingly.
Only the waitress, not the proprietor back in those days, Rosmerta had done her fair share of flirting with the young Sirius, he could even remember those times, for some reason those memories were vividly available.
He'd spent a lot of time with Rosie in his dreams once upon a time.
Sirius gave her an affronted look at her incredibly wrong assessment, "Rosmerta, stabbing me right through the heart like that, I thought we were mates!" His growing smirk showed that he took no offense, immensely enjoying the back and forth.
It was something lighthearted to soothe his frayed nerves and it was succeeding in breaking down the emotions and thoughts developed from the depressing realities of his family, and his odd new friendship with Remus.
Rosmerta giggled, leaning her head into her tented hands with a little pleased sigh, "Not a little boy anymore are you… And so well recommended too, some witch is going to be very lucky." She breathed out, pouting at him, and fluttering her eyelashes coyly.
Being shy was definitely not something anyone ever claimed of Rosmerta - her signals were very clear.
Sirius grinned openly, not going to be a fool and turn down the opportunity of a lifetime, leaning forward slightly, "I'm not married yet, and I feel that for my honor, I must correct that braggart little boy comment, you must give me a chance to prove myself." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, drawing another laugh out of Rosmerta.
"Now, now, Sirius, I specifically remember you ordering a room for a meeting with Professor McGonagall for ten minutes from now…" She had a mirthful look on her face as she tilted her head and smiled, "I hope you're not saying you'd be finished by then?" She asked innocently, dragging a finger down his chest.
Sirius smirked roguishly, "Absolutely not, you're wounding my reputation here, dear lady, Professor McGonagall won't mind waiting an hour." This meeting was simple petty revenge just for the hell of it, it can wait, Sirius thought resolutely.
Some things were just too important to miss out on.
Rosmerta chuckled, seemingly amused at the thought of leaving Professor McGonagall waiting. She pursed her lips in thought as she looked over a wooden keyboard hanging next to the bar, hooking one key around a finger and twirling it around, a spark of mischief in her eyes.
"What are you planning, looking so devious?" Sirius said, a wide grin growing on his face.
Rosmerta looked absolutely sinful as she practically flowed around the counter to slide Sirius arm into the crook of her elbow, leaning up against him, "This is the key to the room next door to the one you're meeting in." She said suggestively, biting her lip, looking excited.
Rosmerta the exhibitionist? That's… Not that surprising actually, considering she spends her days shoving her knockers into teenagers faces for better tips. Sirius thought with some amusement.
"Aren't those rooms magically soundproofed?" He asked, leading Rosmerta towards the back stairs, his heart beating fast, as a teenage fantasy of the original Sirius Black seemed on the cusp of reality.
Rosmerta giggled, giving him a sultry look, "I control the wards." She whispered in his ear, before lightly biting his earlobe, the minx appearing very excited at the possibility of fooling around in such a way.
Sirius laughed, looking forward to it. Both the no doubt amazing time he'd have for the next hour or so, but also the fact he'd immensely offend professor McGonagall. For all that she'd throw up her own silencing spell immediately - once she realized what was happening - she'd also realize that Sirius had postponed their meeting to have sex. If he knew Minnie at all, she'd be furious.
If she left, he'd still get to piss her off later, if she stayed, he'd get to meet her, freshly fucked, and talk down to her in such a delicious manner.
This was rapidly turning into a very good day.
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One hour thirty five minutes later,
To Sirius's surprise, when he knocked on the door, he received a terse "Enter." From the inside.
He grinned sharply, she'd stayed after all, someone must be feeling very guilty about being wrong! He thought, a dark pleasurable feeling washing over him as he realized he was finally actually going to show his displeasure with one of the people that had wronged him.
His limbs felt looser somehow, and the dark presence that he'd felt hanging over him lately, almost like his own personal Dementor - was absent. He felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in days.
Despite the fact he was completely freshened up, even having had the time to take a shower, (including some amazing shower sex) he quickly ruffled his clothes, running a hand through his hair to mess it up to make him appear more rakish.
Minnie would expect him freshly fucked, so why not give her what she wanted?
He pulled the door open, smirking devilishly as he stepped inside, "Minnie." He said, flashing his teeth in an unfriendly way, "Hope you've had a pleasant wait?"
Minerva McGonagall, sitting stiffly in one of the high backed chairs available in the room, looked as if cut from stone, responding archly, "Not as pleasant as you, no doubt, Lord Black."
From the looks of the room and its sole occupant, she'd hardly moved for the past hour and a half. It only amused him more.
Sirius laughed, running a hand trailingly across the wall as he stepped around her, pacing the room slightly, forcing her to either turn to watch him, or let him at her back, something she wasn't comfortable with if he read the stiffening in her shoulders correctly.
Why? It's not like I'm a murderer… Or do you still believe? He thought acidicly.
"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you feel imprisoned here." He drawled, heavy on the sarcasm, ending up standing by the window, a few feet right behind her, forcing her to either get up and turn his way, or continue this facing away from him.
He wasn't going to have a discussion with her like an errant student coming for detention to stand before her, she didn't control this room, this conversation, he did.
Or he supposed technically Rosie did, but he'd fucked her and that basically meant what's hers is his right now. She certainly hadn't quibbled about the fact his paid hour for the room passed by while they were occupied.
Minerva stood up, straightening her robes as she turned around, a slight tension in the wrinkles around her eyes as she pursed her lips before she came to stand beside him, "I was not opposed to waiting, Lord Black." She said stiffly, "It was by no means an imposition, although it was thoughtless, but as of recent events… I suppose I deserve as much." She admitted, looking pained.
She sounded old and weary, perhaps an attempt at appearing weak before him so as to not be seen as someone that purposely attempted to twist history to her own benefit. Maybe she wanted to call it all just a simple mistake.
Either way, she looked old and sad, which somewhat bothered him, despite everything.
Sirius huffed in disgust at that, well if she was going to take all the fun out of it… "You do, for believing the worst of me, which can somewhat be blamed on the harsh times, even if it doesn't make it right…" His eyes hardened as his face grew stony as he glared at her fiercely, "But there is no excuse for showing up for my trial to try and send me back to Azkaban, reinventing the truth to nail me that much harder to my coffin!"
That could not be forgiven! He thought harshly.
Minerva winced visibly, her hands shaking slightly as she once again straightened her robes, "I know." She said thickly, emotionally, "I know I did something unforgivable, I shouldn't have gone, shouldn't have twisted things due to misplaced anger and sorrow. I can't ever apologize enough, Sirius."
Still despite the apology she stood tall and didn't prostrate herself, she had her pride still at least. But all in all, this was just… Not what he'd imagined.
Sirius grimaced, this was getting less fun every second. What was the point of getting back at people if they were going to be so damn blubbery and sorry for it… "Well, at least you realize it." He said gruffly, switching tracks slightly, to the second reason he'd arranged the meeting.
Perhaps he wouldn't be as harsh as he intended in words, the idea of it tasting like so much ash in his mouth, with her honest regret so visible… But in deeds, he'd still make her pay for her actions.
"I didn't want to meet to discuss your apologies, because they don't matter." He said harshly, looking away from his old favorite professor, staring out the window, seeing Hogwarts in the distance. "I need a favor, and who better to provide than someone who's harmed me dearly and owes me one…"
Minerva blinked, taken aback, before growing wary, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye as she stood next to him at the window, "If I can help, I will." She said cautiously, seemingly leery of what he'd ask.
Sirius shivered slightly, just because he'd slept with Rosmerta did not mean he was going there. Get your mind out of the gutter woman!
"I need Cornelius Fudge's entire school record, grades, detention record, everything." Sirius said with a determined look on his face as he turned to look Minerva in the eyes, "Bagnolds as well, just for the fun of it, would serve that old windbag well, I doubt she qualified as any kind of genius…"
She immediately shook her head, features forming up sternly, "You know I can't just release those, Lord Black." She replied, taking a step away, returning to a more official language now, as if that would stop Sirius from continuing.
"Sure you can, it's actually quite easy, you just… Grab them, and hand them over. Five minutes of work, tops." Sirius said, eyeing her with a sharp toothy smirk settling on his face.
Minerva shook her head firmly, lips pressed together tightly, "I can not do that. You would do better seeking out someone in the Department of Education." She suggested primly, "I will not sully Hogwarts reputation, nor my own."
Sirius snorted, giving her a sardonic look, "Ah, yes, I'm sure old Millicent will release her records to me, I'm certain she isn't watching my every step in the Ministry…" The sarcasm was heavy in his reply.
If Bagnold wasn't watching him, she was a certifiable idiot. Sirius could probably get the same records from the Ministry through a proxy and a bevy of bribes - but he didn't want to, not when he had someone here he can put under pressure, someone that he wanted to hurt just a little bit, just enough to realize they'd fucked up.
He sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling, "So you will not do an old comrade this small favor then? Despite the debt between us, the way it leans heavily in my favor?" He asked, mockingly, a sneer growing in place as he watched his old professor stick to her principles.
Funny how she could do so now, but had no problem breaking them to testify falsehoods at his trial, not to mention the shit pulled in the future through seven years of hell. Those principles were mighty flexible…
"Lord Black, I will not break the law by releasing those records to a non-family member." She replied stiffly, "I regret my actions every day for how I failed you," Her eyes softened for a moment beneath her glasses, before hardening in resolve, "But I can not compromise my ethical responsibilities."
"Again." Sirius said darkly, making her blink in confusion.
"I beg your pardon?" She asked, warily.
"You can not compromise your ethical responsibilities. Again. Because what would you call lying on the stand in a trial that would ensure the death of the defendant?" Sirius said sardonically, giving her a dark look, "I guess it's different when it's only school records." He mocked viciously, seeing her flinch back slightly.
"Two wrongs do not make a right." She said after a long pause, looking drawn and tired and so very old.
Sirius couldn't care less right now, he'd long since decided he wouldn't take full revenge as it would simply poison him, and ensure he'd lose allies, but he wasn't all together without bite, either. "You will bring me those files." He said mildly, resting his hands behind his back as he stepped away from her, going back to a more casual mien, his long flowing Acromantula silk robes lending him a certain gravitas.
"I will not." She rebutted firmly, "Lord Black, if you insist on this matter I won't have a choice but to involve Albus." She warned.
Sirius smiled, amused, "Albus, ah yes, one can never be too old to run to daddy for backup and headpats can one?" He mocked lightly, continuing on even as he saw Minerva's hackles rise at the casual insult, "Let's talk about real consequences then, Mistress of Transfiguration."
Minerva furrowed her brow, thrown by the apparent non sequitur.
"You allowed three students to become illegal Animagus during your time as Transfiguration Mistress at Hogwarts." Sirius said calmly, watching her confused expression as he continued on, "Not only did they run around Hogwarts for years as such, they ended up committing crimes together… One of them ending up eventually committing the utmost betrayal, a very dark crime, partly through the ability they now had to go around unseen in a rat animagus form."
Minerva looked flabbergasted, raising a shocked eyebrow as she sputtered out, "You can not seriously be attempting to put Pettigrew's betrayal at my feet?"
Even if not him… You either allowed us to run around with a werewolf against all laws, or were ignorant of it all, which is just as bad… He thought, amused at using his own indiscretions against her.
He knew she hadn't known, but that also worked, because it did not paint her in a good light at all.
How does the Transfiguration Professor and head of their house miss her students being Animagus for years…
Sirius smirked, waving her objection away with a hand, dismissively. "Not at all, but it's a nice thought project, either you were an incompetent teacher and administrator - unable to notice three students spending years as illegal Animagi under your aegis, getting up to no good or even criminal acts… Or you knew and were partly responsible for what happened. Which is it?" He asked scathingly.
"What are you implying?" She asked frostily, nostrils flaring.
"I am not without means any longer. I am quite capable of running a campaign in the Daily Prophet… Capable of demanding an investigation from the Transfiguration Guild on your suitability for teaching Transfiguration, to run articles in Transfiguration weekly, ruining your reputation, because no matter how you spell it, you were either complicit - or incompetent." Sirius threatened calmly, a small smile on his face.
Minerva clenched her fists, eyes flashing with anger, "Are you attempting to blackmail me?" She barked out, incredulously.
Sirius laughed quietly, before answering with an amused voice, "I am giving you options, you get to choose which one, for all I care choose the ruination of your reputation, that would be suitable punishment for your lies as well."
Oh, just like with Snape, his proof was thin as ice, but the magical world didn't run on proof or truth. It ran on money, reputation and blood. And Sirius had more of all three then they did at the moment.
It would hurt his reputation to run a smear campaign for such a beloved figure, but he'd still succeed. Because people loved to believe the worst about a known and celebrated figure.
It's why Dumbledore could be toppled from his mountain so easily in Canon. Speaking of, he'd win no matter what she chose, because again, if Dumbledore had to waste political capital on putting out fires, he was losing his invincible aura.
"You would really do this, Sirius?" She asked quietly, sounding let down, face sucked in like she'd tasted something particularly sour.
Sirius smiled a million galleon smile, "With bells and whistles on it, luv." He promised.
…
He got the school records.
Fudge really shouldn't be in his position, what a bad bad stupid little man.
His department had a certain requirement in grades that Fudge had enforced heavily, a requirement he didn't meet himself.
He could already picture the Daily Prophet headline.
The truth about Fudge's grades! More unqualified for his department than the interns!
Or,
Fudge wouldn't get hired as an intern! The truth about his record!
It wouldn't sway his supporters yet, but it would put a beginning platform in place. No one liked being tarnished with the same brush as that of an idiot.
Sirius just needed to show them all that.
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Grimmauld place, two days later,
A stack of papers were unceremoniously dropped in front of Remus, where he was sitting on an armchair pretending to read an article in Transfiguration weekly. "What's this?" He asked, confused at the muggle papers.
He hadn't seen many muggle things around Grimmauld place, not with Narcissa and Cassiopeia renovating things.
It's one of the things he'd noticed Sirius had lost somewhat, that old fascination with muggle things, now he seemed to almost find them boring, like he'd seen it all.
Remus could only regret his failures even more whenever he noticed one of those incongruities, wondering how much his friend had lost in Azkaban.
Too much, any of it was too much…
Sirius let out a heavy breath as he sunk into the opposite armchair, looking tired but pleased at himself. "Your new job papers." He explained waving at the papers with one hand.
Which… Didn't explain anything.
Remus put down his magazine, lifting up the first piece of paper, an obviously faked (to him) muggle employment history and diploma for a Remus J Lupin.
"A teacher?" He murmured, slightly interested despite himself. If not for his problem, a teaching career would definitely have been something he'd have enjoyed.
Remus put the paper down, hesitantly, "Sirius… The muggle world doesn't really handle time off for every full moon well." He said feeling slightly defeated.
Sirius snorted, looking at him with eyes that were a mix of compassion and bitterness. There was so much bitterness in his old friend, it seemed to have gotten better in the last few days, but it still worried Remus.
"It's not a problem, I had my people confound the Principal, you'll get 4 days off around every full moon." Sirius said, sinking into his armchair with a pleased sigh.
Remus chuckled uncomfortably, "By people, you mean Cassiopeia or Pollux?" He asked, because while he wouldn't trust either around muggles, he trusted Cassiopeia a lot more than Pollux.
"Cassie did it, not a worry Remus, it will hold, all your paperwork is spiffy too." Sirius assured him.
Remus looked at the paperwork, feeling conflicted, "If you're sure…" He trailed off, catching something that confused him, "Sirius… Why am I teaching preschool?"
Sirius looked a bit melancholy, not answering for a moment. Both of them sat in silence as the other man gathered his thoughts.
"I've made decisions that aren't always going to be the best for others… I own that, I'll probably live to regret them, even if I fix everything else." Sirius said slowly, Remus having absolutely no idea what was going on.
Sirius pointed at Remus, expression serious, "That preschool, Remus, is in Surrey. It's the preschool I'm forcing the muggles that take care of Harry to put him in…"
Remus felt dizzy, everything feeling like he was under water, the rest of Sirius words coming like through a distance, Harry… I'm going to get to see Harry. Teach Harry! He thought a smile slowly growing on his face.
"When do I start!?" He interrupted Sirius, hands grasping the packet of papers compulsively.
Sirius smirked, a sad look in his eyes, "Soon enough, look after him for me, aye, mate?"
Remus gave him a queer look, "Of course, Sirius, we'll both be there for him, like James and Lily would have wanted!" He promised fervently, clutching the papers to his chest like the lifeline they were. He was going to get to see little Harry!
He had no idea why his statement just made Sirius grimace and look away uncomfortably.
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Andromeda Tonks paused as she put the chicken in the oven, an ominous feeling coming over her.
Like she just had the sense something she knew was just at the tip of her tongue, or the edge of her senses.
There was a knock on the door right after and she sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. She'd had a similar feeling before Sirius had suddenly arrived, once a Black always a Black it seemed… At least as far as magic was concerned.
Magic was one giant bitch at times, in Andromeda's opinion.
She'd specifically reported her conversation with Sirius to Albus so that no more Blacks would darken her door.
She straightened her appearance out, checking it in the reflection of her polished muggle fridge. She had the full intention of telling Sirius to bugger off, but it wouldn't do to appear harried or ruffled. She still had her pride in some things.
Irregardless if one was a pureblood, or a muggle, if one was a woman, there were certain expectations on appearances.
Except… As she opened the door, one hand on her wand, just out of sight, she wasn't faced with Sirius, but Narcissa!
This is so much worse! She thought despondently.
"What are you doing here?" She blurted out, eyes wide, raising one hand to her mouth in surprise at her own knee jerk reaction. Her eyes tightening imperceptibly as she realized her unintentional rudeness. Her lips thinned and her expression tightened as she decided to double down on it anyway, because this was Narcissa, the wife of a Death Eater. "You are not welcome here!" She declared haughtily.
She was already running through her list of defensive spells as she readied to use her wand if any more hidden Blacks, or worse, hidden Malfoys appeared.
Narcissa smiled sweetly, which Andromeda knew to be a lie, and held out a stack of parchments, "This was supposed to be Cassiopeia's job, but she left it to me - so very frustrating of our aunt, but it does let me see you again, so I don't mind too much." Narcissa said calmly, explaining nothing to Andromeda, what job? Why was she being handed a stack of parchment work?
Why was Narcissa here! Why was Cassiopeia supposed to come? Sirius what did you do you twice cursed fool!? Andromeda did not want anything to do with her family, why were they all crawling out of the woodwork now?
Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly, her smile turning politely vicious, "She will regret that either way, I'm no one's servant… But in the meantime, won't you invite me in, dear sister?"
"I'm not your dear anything anymore, Narcissa." Andromeda said slowly, hand tight around her wand. "And I don't think I will… I can not forget what company you keep, nor risk my family to your wiles."
Narcissa chuckled lightly, "My wiles? Andi, you're making me sound like some sort of succubus or vampiress." She said dryly, "You really distrust me so?" She asked, sounding slightly saddened, her features sinking minutely.
Andromeda held firm, eyes hard, "Yes, and don't try that routine on me, you fake sadness well, Cissy… But I saw you grow up, saw you learn how to do so, you won't play on my emotions today, or ever." Not ever again…
Narcissa sighed, smiling nostalgically, "Ah, you haven't changed a bit, Andi. It's somewhat comforting despite everything, you still know how to ruin any fun."
"Why are you here? And how can I get you to leave and never come back?" Andromeda asked tightly, holding a tight rein over her emotions.
She didn't want anything to do with her family, the risks were too great, even as part of her longed for it still, for her sisters, even for Bella, as sick as that was… But she couldn't, they were too dangerous for Ted, for little Nymphadora.
They couldn't be trusted, she'd gotten out and it had apparently worked, but everyone else… Black blood just birthed insanity.
"Well, I would have preferred explaining things to you and walking you through the particulars." Narcissa sniffed, looking imperius and cold as she straightened and fixed Andromeda with a superior sneer, "But I suppose you could never follow along with courtesy, no doubt why you married down into the muck." She looked around at the muggle neighborhood with derision.
Andromeda met her gaze with just as much derision, the muggles here were likely ten times the people her dear husband was, despite their lack of magic.
"Was there a point somewhere there?" Andromeda asked pointedly, uncaring of Narcissa's little fit for not getting her way. She shook her head briefly, how ridiculous, to think she could walk back into her life, smile a little and pretend they could go back to normal. She is still a silly girl deep down, Andromeda thought sadly, waiting for an answer, fully ready to shut the door in her face if nothing would be forthcoming.
Narcissa smirked, dropping the pack of parchments at her feet, turning on her heels, throwing the explanation over her shoulder before she disapparated, "Congratulations for becoming the chairwoman of the Lily Potter foundation, Andi."
"What!?" Andromeda said dumbly, staring down at the parchments laying innocently at her front step.
Sirius…. This is your doing! She thought angrily, I said I didn't want anything to do with the family!
Outraged she picked up the parchments after checking them over for every curse she knew first, she wasn't stupid.
To her annoyance, there were no continued ties to the Black family in the organization they'd set up somehow, in such a short amount of time too.
They'd literally dumped a charity organization on her with no ties, money already in the bank, an organization that would fall apart if she didn't do something.
They'd tied her Circe damned hands.
I'll get you for this, Sirius Black… She thought darkly, staring at the immense workload that had just been dumped on her from nowhere.
Knowing that if she didn't do something… All that charity work would never happen, someone she couldn't trust would take over.
She couldn't hand over the reins either, she knew the magical world, that's why she made her own little corner in the edge of its existence and ignored the rest.
If she left this alone in the hands of someone else - it would be misused.
He'd neatly trapped her.
Morgana damned Blacks!
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Author's note:
So Sirius is feeling a bit of the aftereffects of Azkaban plus the stress of things not going as well, apparently that means he gets some petty revenge.
It's hardly going to get Snape fired or anything, but the ruination of his reputation will still smart.
And of course poor Minnie, the problem with falling for blackmail, is that now the blackmailer has the blackmail of you doing unethical tasks for blackmail. Vicious little circle there. McGonagall obviously feeling pretty guilty for the trial to end up doing it in the end.
Will soon be time to get Sirius married!
And of course Sirius is uncomfortable with Remus and uncomfortable about the idea of Harry Potter - so why not dump those two together and out of his hair a bit!
What could be called the horny chapter. As the women around Sirius start to stake a claim, before he can take on the Wizengamot and the Ministry.
They can see the power he'll hold, what he already has, and they want a piece. Whether that's a piece of him - or his likely power. Well I'll leave that for you to interpret.
Keeping the lewd scene to Questionable Questing for those who want that stuff, here it will cut off right before it.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool.
Wizengamot chambers,
Sirius was wondering why he'd chosen to enter politics again. Would it have been so bad to choose dark magic, tyranny and evil?
Surely it would be easier to plot a revolution through outside means and violence, right?
It probably would have limited the amount of idiots he had to be around - or at least given him the choice to remove them post haste.
This session of the Wizengamot exemplified why the wizarding world was static, corrupt, and utterly incompetent.
They had the ability to be literal gods on this earth, the wizarding world had developed spells to control time, the weather, reality itself!
And the absolute apex of the wizarding world was stuck in a chamber, for going on four hours now…
Arguing fervently.
You'd think it was about the upcoming election. Perhaps a large criminal trial that's coming up… Even the Ministerial budget would make some sense. He'd take an argument about something recent even if inconsequential.
But no, they were arguing about a law from the 14th century regarding the amount of chickens everyday wizards were allowed to own, and what magic could legally be applied to them. One side thought it outdated, (No shit, who even owns chickens anymore anyway?) the other argued that one shouldn't touch traditional law that's been around for centuries.
And they were getting heated about it too. Sirius was fairly sure that the two pureblood lords doing most of the arguing, had never seen a chicken anywhere but a dinner plate. Which boogled the mind of why they cared enough to ruin everyone's day.
Or why no one was stopping it!
Yes, looking at you Albus…
Worst was the fact that he didn't know if this nonsense was another plot by Millicent Bagnold to slow everything down, to keep anything important from being discussed - or if this was business as usual for these people.
Knowing the purebloods and their society, as he did, his society, Merlin help him… He was fairly certain that the second option was not far-fetched.
Normally he'd dumped Wizengamot duties on Arcturus, since the old coot actually knew politics, even if in an outdated and stuffy way. But with the election drawing ever closer, and Sirius needing more of the Wizengamot on his side… He needed to fly the flag so to speak.
He needed to show them that he was one of them, as much as that was utter shite - since he planned to make them obsolete eventually.
This was the ruling elite that decided things in Britain, he thought with thinly veiled disgust, watching a red faced pureblood lord screaming at another about the sanctity of proper and traditional chicken keeping.
"So do you think they're so passionate because they fuck farm animals?" Isabella Zabini asked idly, a teasing tilt to her full luscious lips.
Sirius almost choked on his tongue, "What!?" He managed to get out, quietly, giving the smirking lady an incredulous look.
She chuckled throatily, sensually sliding back in her throne like chair next to him. Her thin, cleavage-baring pale pink robes clinging almost obscenely tightly to her body, "No one is that passionate about a law governing what you can do with farm animals, unless they're worried laws will continue to be thrown out, making their… Interests… Illegal."
"Why is everything about sex with you, Lady Zabini." Sirius uttered tiredly, not sure who she bribed or sucked off, to manage to switch Wizengamot seats around. Something which was not done. See the argument about 14th century chicken laws to see how likely magicals were to change something that's always been done.
If anything else he could admire her sheer determination and skill. And her body of course. He couldn't help the appreciative once over, even as she caught it and preened. She was sexy as sin, all sensuous curves and mysterious air around her.
It wasn't just the looks, as spectacular as they were. It was the confidence, the dangerous and mysterious aura around her, those big beautiful eyes that always had a hint of mischief and lust in them, the sheer intelligence obvious in her every action. This was a woman almost impossible to resist.
Hence the many husbands…
If she wasn't so competent, he'd likely jump at the chance to solve his issues and marry her. But her competence did make it possible that she'd actually succeed in killing him, even as he watched for just that.
She hadn't succeeded so far through luck.
Isabella Zabini smiled coyly, mirth in her expressive eyes, "My apologies, Lord Black, but isn't everything?"
"Not everything." Sirius responded dryly, his eyes tracking the single bead of perspiration slowly traveling down into her cleavage.
Likely premeditated as the cooling charms and multitude of comfort charms attached to both their robes and the chairs of the Wizengamot itself - should have kept her perfectly cool without a hint of sweat.
"Will you stop that?" He asked, jerking his head away, trying to focus on the discussion, a lost cause really.
Because they were still arguing about Merlin damned chickens!
"Stop what, my lord?" She asked innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.
And by Morgana's heaving tits, a woman literally appearing as sex on legs and dripping sensuality, should not be able to pull off an innocent voice and expression so well…
"Stop trying to seduce me." He barked out, glad privacy spells at least ensured the nearest lords and ladies didn't partake in their private conversation.
He'd tried putting up the privacy field to ignore her as well, but with no chance of words being exchanged - she'd simply worked that much harder on drawing attention with her body, so it had actually distracted him more.
"Why? Is it working?" She asked, a sultry smile on her face, as she flushed slightly, the pink tinge to her cheeks only adding to her looks.
Sirius just groaned, smacking his head back against his own throne like chair. "I know your reputation, my lady." He drawled sarcastically, "I am not about to commit suicide…"
"Vicious rumors, nothing else, Lord Black." She said, letting out a tinkling bell-like laugh, before sending him an easy smile, patting him on the arm, her hand lingering after, "I assure you, I have no intention to harm you."
"I'm sure one of your many husbands heard the same before their 'accidents'." Sirius pointed out dry as the desert.
While she was almost an ideal wife for his future plans, he just couldn't for even a minute trust her. She was whispered about as the Black Widow for a reason.
For all that she was a seductress of the highest caliber, she was also a dangerous witch. Sirius had used the fact Minerva had already wound herself tightly into his web of blackmail, to blackmail her yet again - this time for Isabella Zabini's records.
She was not up there with the likes of Tom Riddle and Dumbledore, but by Merlin had her grades been a surprise.
Comparing her to Lily and the Marauders… She was leagues above. She had finished with perfect O's with ten subjects, with distinction in 5 subjects.
She had a better grade in defense than he did!
And yet no one knew. She had cultivated her reputation as just a woman, this entire time.
It made him want her more, but also made him absolutely certain he couldn't afford any entanglement.
Isabella pouted cutely, "You're a different kind of man, my dear Lord Black, any witch can see where you're going… Straight to the top." She cocked her head, an immaculate eyebrow raised questioningly, "Why would I want to lose such an influential and powerful man?"
"I'm glad I have your vote, Lady Zabini." Sirius responded, feeling a bit hot under the collar despite everything screaming at him to tell her to bugger off. "I'll still have to decline." He managed to say politely.
At least, as frustrating as it was, she was more entertaining than actually listening to the Wizengamot.
"What if I would be willing to give certain guarantees…" She offered, surprising Sirius.
"What do you mean…?" He asked, suspiciously.
She smiled, showing off a row of perfect teeth, "Whatever would make you comfortable, Lord Black."
…
Merlin dammit, I need Narcissa for this…
In the end he had demurred, promising to schedule a meeting to discuss the issue further.
Giving himself some time to workshop the idea with Narcissa.
He still thought it was a really bad idea, at the same time he thought it was a really good one. But it might have been something other than his brain thinking the second thought.
Her offer was enticing, but held risks still. For all that magical oaths sometimes got described as the cure all of anything… They had limitations.
Someone swearing an oath that they won't kill you, doesn't mean that they can't see you dead. They just couldn't do it themselves. So now you had to add onto that caveat - can't kill you or arrange for someone to do it. But then what about in self defense? Because surely she'd want a clause about self defense. Then you got into the murky details of what would magic classify as self defense…
Any other oath than complete utter loyalty and slavery, could be gotten around. And as House elves had shown, even those oaths had wiggle room if you didn't care about the punishment.
Somehow, Sirius doubted the Lady Zabini would go as far as sell herself into complete slavery to soothe his worries that her interest was only in his fortune after he passed.
Hence, he'd sick Narcissa on this whole issue, and see if they could work something out, as it would actually be the ideal match for his ambitions. If the whole - will she murder me in my sleep issue is resolved.
Sirius couldn't shake off the feeling that Isabella's offers came with even more strings attached though, other than the whole danger to his life issue - each one more dangerous than the last. Yet, there was a small insistent part of him that couldn't resist the allure of her promises, no matter how dangerous they seemed.
This was a new life for him, one that despite his ambitions, also offered untold new experiences as well. He was tempted, very tempted. The danger honestly almost made him want it more - he wasn't sure where this thrill seeking came from, perhaps from how restless he felt in his skin lately. The thrill of moving forward with a viper at his side might be worth the danger.
As the session dragged on, Sirius found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the state of wizarding politics. The bickering, the incompetence, the sheer lack of progress - it was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. It was truthfully good for him, in a sense.
Because the more incompetence ruled in the halls of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, the faster he could move once he held the power to do something about it.
Finally, when the session mercifully came to an end, Sirius wasted no time in making his way out of the chambers - by pure accident of course, also escaping Isabella Zabini. He needed a breath of fresh air, before incompetence or the dangerous seductress - made him do something foolish.
As he stepped out into the corridor, he was met by a familiar face - a reporter from the Daily Prophet, no doubt looking for a juicy story to fill the pages of tomorrow's edition.
Although why in Merlin's name he'd been lurking around here for it… If Sirius hadn't stepped out right now, he'd be facing a story simply about chickens.
"Lord Black, may I have a moment of your time?" The reporter asked eagerly, brandishing a quill with eager anticipation. It was a fairly young looking lad, probably on shit duty, being sent to cover pointless debates such as this.
When there were more important things on the docket, the Prophet likely sent a more experienced correspondent. He supposed he'd find out soon enough, being forced to attend more of these meetings in the future.
Sirius sighed inwardly, any story from his point of view was always good, but he was already fairly annoyed and didn't relish having to watch his words. Yet he plastered on a polite smile anyway, nodding genially at the young lad. "Of course, what can I do for you?"
The reporter wasted no time in launching into his questions, eager to get the scoop on the inner workings of the Wizengamot perhaps. He'd regret that soon enough if this became his regular haunt, Sirius thought.
"Lord Black, what are your thoughts on today's proceedings? It seems the Wizengamot spent an inordinate amount of time debating a rather trivial matter." He asked, eyes alight with the fervor of someone young and passionate about his job.
He really wasn't going to last long if he asked pureblood Lords those kinds of questions, he was inordinately lucky it was Sirius here today.
Sirius kept his polite facade on, even as he wanted to shake his head. "Yes, well, it's unfortunate that we seem to get bogged down by such trivialities. The wizarding world is facing far more pressing issues, and yet here we are, arguing about chicken laws from the 14th century." He couldn't help but let some sarcasm loose at the end, because really, he was still sore about the wasted hours of his life.
The worst thing… They hadn't even come to a conclusion today!
The reporter scribbled furiously, his quill dancing across the parchment. "And what do you think needs to change in order to address these pressing issues?"
Hoh, not a regular reporter after all, maybe… Sirius wondered at that, usually these people weren't quite that forward when it came to the Wizengamot.
Sirius paused for a moment, appearing to gather his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. "I believe it's time for a shift in priorities. We need leaders who are willing to tackle the real issues facing our society head-on, leaders who are committed to enacting meaningful change for the betterment of all magical kind - someone not already inside the organization and already complicit..."
The reporter nodded, clearly intrigued by Sirius' words - or able to see through the campaign style language. "And do you see yourself as one of those leaders, Lord Black?" He asked slyly, fingering his quill.
Sirius wondered if he should go any further, or politely pull back and let the reporter and the readers infer the rest.
In the end, his annoyance and lack of patience with how the Wizengamot was proceeding, made him speak further.
"I certainly hope to play a role in shaping the future of our world," Sirius replied, his voice firm with determination. "But ultimately, it's not about me. It's about ensuring that our society is governed with integrity, fairness, and justice."
It helped that he mostly believed all of it too. Although the end goal was for all that to exist by the time Sirius left office. Because he'd get nowhere if he didn't lie, steal, cheat and kill to get there now.
Do as I say, not as I do, political version.
The reporter nodded appreciatively, clearly satisfied with Sirius's response - it would probably net him a fair bit of gold as he sold it to everyone before the paper could print. "Thank you for your time, Lord Black. Your words will no doubt resonate with our readers."
"I'm sure it will…" He muttered wryly, the reporter already gone.
All Sirius could do was press forward, determined to fight for the kind of governance he knew this society needed, even if they hardly even deserved it, bunch of sheep as they were. And in the end, if that meant making difficult choices and forming unlikely alliances along the way, then so be it.
Besides, dealing with all the boring parts of governing, he'd need some excitement around at some point…
Sirius' office, Black Townhouse,
Sirius had called Narcissa to his office this morning intent on discussing Zabini's machinations, albeit he'd first need to go over his plans for the Wizengamot before he could deviate to this more personal business, or he'd likely be stuck on it for the entire meeting.
At this point, Narcissa was spending so much time here, that she'd taken to bringing Draco along at times, as she didn't want to spend days away from her baby. Seeing her with Draco did bring into perspective just how devoted to family she could be.
Today however, she did not have the brat with her, thankfully. He just didn't enjoy children, something which continued to worry him about his eventual custody of Harry Potter.
Really the major reason he'd made up with Remus - was to have someone around who probably liked kids.
He focused on what was in front of him, Harry wasn't an issue right now, his attention turning to his guest/indispensable advisor.
He watched Narcissa carefully as she spoke, admiring her, but still cautious as to how far she could be trusted after the deal with Lucius, mindful of how much power she held by being the only one he could really turn to for competence.
It was impossible to know how much her love for the Malfoy's would interfere with her love and duty for the Blacks. Straddling that divide was difficult, and fraught, and made it impossible to trust her completely.
Narcissa Malfoy exuded an aura of refined elegance as she sat opposite Sirius in his office - one he could never outshine in a million years even if he tried. Her posture was regal, back straight and shoulders squared, radiating an air of confidence and poise.
She'd come to do battle today, he thought, his eyes narrowed, picking up more clues from her body language.
Her lips were set in an enigmatic and perpetually knowing smile, hinting at knowing more than she said at any given time. The fact her appearance continued to fascinate him so, likely meant he was truly a Black after all.
He wasn't fool enough to think she missed anything, even his appreciative appraisal, not with the sharp intellect that lay behind her cool exterior. The fact this situation kept cropping up, and the fact she kept showing up anyway, was worrying him slightly.
He was too old to be crushing on a cousin, especially a married one. One who was helping him arrange his marriage to boot.
Draped in robes of the finest silk, Narcissa seemed to blend seamlessly into the elegant yet dark surroundings of Sirius' office. Every movement was deliberate and calculated, from the way she crossed her legs to the subtle tilt of her head as she listened intently to Sirius's words.
Though their methods were different, they both shared the goal of elevating the Black family's status. It was important to both of them. Well, in his case it was more his own status for the purpose of achieving his goal - but it was practically the same end result.
Narcissa had her own reasons, and as with most everything with her, it lay hidden behind a thousand layers, each more complicated than the next.
Leaving aside how she had some sort of agenda today, he laid out his ideas on the upcoming subversion of pureblood lords that they'd have to finagle.
Narcissa, her demeanor determined, spoke up after he'd briefly explained his plan for conquering the Wizengamot. "Sirius, your idea is too heavy-handed, we have to navigate the intricacies of the Wizengamot with finesse. Bribes, favors, even seduction if necessary. One moment of heavy handedness could ruin you." She cautioned.
He'd only advocated for killing just a few of them, really. Just to stir up the pot and get them all off balance. Hardly even worth mentioning, certainly not that heavy-handed.
Sirius sighed heavily, but acknowledged the point. It had been wishful thinking more than anything. "You are of course right, Narcissa, but we've danced around this for far too long. We've been patient, waiting for the right moment, but we can't keep waiting. We need to act decisively." The damn Wizengamot can make or break us, we can't keep moving at a pace the old fogies are comfortable at anymore…
Narcissa's gaze softened, understanding the weight of Sirius's words. "Perhaps you are right. We can't afford to wait indefinitely." She acknowledged, quirking her lips as Sirius's eyes widened in surprise at her agreeing with him. "That said, we must be careful, you could easily burn all your bridges if you upset the wrong man, or woman, my Lord."
The way she emphasized my lord consistently, was beginning to annoy Sirius. He wasn't sure if she was mocking him or just emphasizing her subservience.
It was really hard to tell with her at times.
"Lucius has been a help there… As much as I hate to admit it." Sirius said, nodding at the pleased smile of the woman in front of him. The amount of information the other man held on the members of the Wizengamot…
Sirius could only be glad they were nominally on the same side, through Narcissa. Even as he still hated the man and would gladly piss on his grave anytime.
He knew, even when he got elected, he'd still need her assistance at the Ministry, working through the web of intrigue and corruption that suffused that place so badly.
"Your assistance in perfecting a plan for turning the last holdouts into a majority in the Wizengamot would be greatly appreciated, Cissy." Sirius said softly, using a more familiar tone. "I definitely can't do it without you, and I know you'll have a price. So ask."
He'd rather have it out in the open, know ahead of time, then be blindsided by some plot later. She couldn't outright betray him, nor did he think she'd go too far, she still believed in family strongly after all. But there were plenty of ways to take advantage or circumvent him - without going as far as betraying her family head.
Narcissa leaned back in her chair, her demeanor as composed as ever, her sharp eyes held a glint of calculated determination, a silent acknowledgment of the power she wielded in her own right.
"My Lord," She said slowly, her voice smooth and measured, "As we are speaking of our plans for the future, I can't help but think of how to strengthen this alliance between the Blacks and Malfoys. We both know the potency of alliances forged through personal connections."
There was a hint of something there, he thought, but he couldn't believe it. No, I'm projecting. Not even she's that calculating.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studied her. "Go on, Narcissa." He said, some chill to his tone, losing the familiarity - as he suspected she was playing him now. Why else bring up the Malfoy's, why else begin a negotiation about her price, as a Malfoy instead of a Black.
He'd thought she had an agenda walking in today. Had his decision to ask for her price, been foreseen?
A faint smile played at the corners of Narcissa's lips as she continued, her words carefully chosen. "Once you ascend to power within the Ministry, with my husband and my own hands steering the Wizengamot, your influence will be unparalleled. Imagine the possibilities, my Lord" She said softly, eyes almost shining with calculated desire. "Alliances strengthened, enemies vanquished, and the Black family restored to its former glory."
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, her eyes unwavering. "And yet, power alone is not enough. It requires finesse, persuasion, the ability to sway hearts and minds. A skill at which you know I excel at, I might add." She said, without a shred of humility.
Sirius knew her worth, it's why he'd asked her for her price to truly be a part of this. To join him in his transformative quest in turning the Ministry of Magic into something useful.
She was leading up to something, something he just now realized she'd been leading up to since the moment he began utilizing her as his sounding board.
Sirius' expression remained impassive, while inwardly he was feeling thrown, a flicker of understanding flashing through his eyes as he thought it over, parsing what she was leaving unsaid. "Are you suggesting...?" He asked, trailing off, not able to say the words.
Narcissa inclined her head ever so slightly, her smile widening just the slightest of a fraction, smugly. "I am suggesting that our interests align, my Lord. That together, we can ensure the prosperity of our families for generations to come. All it requires is a... personal touch." The last was so delicately delivered that someone uninitiated might have missed the meaning of it.
As the implications of her words hung in the air, Narcissa watched Sirius closely, waiting for his response. Her arms moved in a way that enhanced her bust in a movement that was surely purely accidental.
Sirius for once was lost completely. It wasn't enough to have Isabella Zabini proposition him apparently. To have to, at the same time, deal with the confluence of events like this. He had begun admiring cousin Cissy a bit more than he should, and then suddenly she ends up offering a more personal hand in their relationship, in return for the Malfoy's ascending with him.
Ensuring personally that he would not want to cut them out at the end, that he would not turn to another family for support.
She couldn't be that calculating? Could she? To have planned this from the start… All those times he'd found his eyes drawn to her, his thoughts straying to her as she outshone the rest of the family, helping him more with each day going by. Consistently managing to draw his attention to her looks, despite the fact of their relation.
… In retrospect he'd been a fool. Of course she'd seen the situation she was in - and moved to ensure she was indispensable. And now she was just moving in to solidify the alliance - to ensure Sirius was completely dependent on her.
"Narcissa… Ask for something else." He managed to say, disbelief warring with affront. That she thought to use him like this.
Even then, his mind couldn't help but picture it, and he felt a spike of desire.
As pleasant as it might be, despite the connotations, it was also getting into bed with a snake. And the fact Lucius no doubt approved of this plan, seeing the good of his house… It made Sirius sick, even as he couldn't stop picturing it.
He was one step away from becoming exactly the kind of pureblood they all were. A whole bunch of incestuous braggarts with no brains.
Narcissa smiled enigmatically, brushing a lock of platinum blonde hair away from her face, "I'm afraid this is my price." She murmured, not at all looking apologetic.
Sirius thought she was deluded if she thought she could control him through his cock, but then again, she'd led him straight to here, so perhaps she was confident for a reason.
"Get out…" He said, fists clenching.
She rose as perfectly composed as she'd been the entire time, bowing her head slightly, her smile growing, "Until you call for me, my Lord." She said as a farewell, slowly exiting his office.
Sirius put his head in his hands, I wanted help with one duplicitous woman, and now I find myself besieged by two!
What was the best path forward?
The simple fact was, in the entire family, no one was as useful and skilled for his cause, then Narcissa.
Technically the price was cheap.
He'd expected magical oaths, promises to the Malfoy family on land, money or favors.
This was cheap.
Which ultimately was also a trap.
Did knowing it was a trap make it likelier Sirius could simply spring it and walk away fine?
He needed a drink…
The next day.
In the depths of the Black townhouse, in a place where shadows danced and secrets whispered - if you were to believe his family anyway… In reality the depths of the townhouse weren't so secret, although it was definitely dark. Personally Sirius just thought it was terribly dusty and dirty, even with Kreacher's efforts to clean up the townhouse.
Although it certainly was extra dark, he'd give them that. The family did excel in being gloomy and depressing above all else. Further proof that his family came from a long line of edgy teenagers that just never grew out of the phase.
He'd decided to engage in one of the best stress relief actions that existed that did not need to involve women.
Violence.
The dueling chamber down here hadn't been high on the priority list for any kind of cleaning, especially with the set of wards on it making it a location not touched carelessly. It hadn't even been touched as the Black ladies went through the home, sweeping through in a whirlwind of re-decorative frenzy.
Probably due to memories Narcissa had of being forced to face Bellatrix down here…
How anyone had expected that to end well he didn't know.
Hidden within the depths of the ancient Black townhouse it lurked, the chamber unlike any other - the Dueling Room, a room that almost felt alive at times. Sirius had always found it very dark and foreboding from what memories he retained from his time as a child; he knew it bore witness to centuries of magical combat, its walls echoing with the whispers of spells long cast and battles long fought, and of death.
Without a doubt it had been soaked in the lifeblood of members of the Black family who'd dodged just a sliver too slowly. The Black family was not one to coddle children back in the old days.
Centuries ago when children were plentiful, it wasn't odd in the darker families to pit some of them against each other at a young age so only the strong blood would survive. Something not publicly known any longer, Sirius had found it in the Lord's archives of past Lord Blacks.
Thankfully his own parents hadn't gone quite that far, but Sirius had still held a dose of healthy fear and respect for the heavily warded chamber and its ominous ambience.
As Sirius and Remus stepped into the room, they were enveloped by an oppressive darkness, broken only by the flickering light of sputtering torches that lined the walls. As Lord Black, he had inspected the ward schemes and found that the torches had been specifically designed to be ominously flickering, instead of letting you actually… You know… See what you're doing.
The air inside was heavy with the scent of old parchment and dried blood, a lingering reminder of the duels that had taken place within its confines - dear Bella had spilled a lot of family blood here as she practiced and perfected her viciousness, thankfully not Sirius'.
The room itself seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, the very stones imbued with dark magic thanks to centuries of blood and toil. Tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of death and destruction, their colors faded and their edges frayed with age - clearly for effect, as the preservation charms were immaculate. The floor was etched with intricate runes and symbols, at least to Sirius's eyes. He knew Remus couldn't see them, they were for the Lord Black only.
It was probably his imagination that they appeared to thrum in time with his own heartbeat. Yeah, probably, right?
The center of the chamber held a raised platform, its surface scarred and pitted from countless duels, not even the repair charms built upon blood rituals of the past able to keep the surface pristine through some of the harsher spells thrown across the centuries.. A single obsidian pedestal stood upon it, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen.
The control station for the wards.
It would sink into the floor after the parameters were set, the room adaptable to a certain extent, even able to factor in windy or icy conditions and such.
It also had the ability to ward against lethal spells bar the unforgivables, not that most Black lords ever bothered with that unless they were dueling.
Needless to say, even though he doubted Remus was out to kill him, Sirius would be engaging the wards to prevent lethal spells from doing as much damage.
"Ready to lose?" Sirius asked darkly, having some unresolved tensions to let loose.
Remus chuckled nervously, "I haven't exactly kept up the practice." He admitted, glancing around the magic saturated room nervously.
Sirius raised an eyebrow sardonically, "Probably more than I did in Azkaban." He pointed out, stepping up onto the platform.
As Sirius and Remus took their positions, the room seemed to come alive with a malevolent energy. Shadows danced along the walls, twisting and writhing in a way that was obviously spelled out for effect, bloody drama queens the whole lot of Black ancestors, Sirius thought. The torches flickered and dimmed even further, casting long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out for them with grasping fingers.
If nothing else he'd have to say his ancestors did go full in on the whole darkside aesthetic. It was a pity he wasn't going to go Dark Lord, his family would make good interior decorators for the really evil.
Sirius and Remus stood facing each other in the dimly lit chamber, magic swirling around them, just in anticipation. Their wands were drawn, held loosely at the ready, eyes locked in determination and a slight hint of nervousness.
Remus no doubt expected some more punishment for his betrayal to be eked out, and in Sirius case, he was beyond rusty, with a body that still didn't feel 100 percent, so he felt a hint of nerves as well. But he probably hid it better than Remus did.
"Ready, Moony?" Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, trying to lighten the mood and wash away some of the nervousness in his friend.
Even if they were still far from what they were in the originals life.
Remus nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips at the familiar banter. "Always, Padfoot."
With a flick of his wand, Sirius sent a jet of red sparks that exploded into fireworks soaring through the air, only to be met with a swift counter from Remus, a cascade of blue light weaving a shield between them.
The explosions dimmed and then completely snuffed out as the shield bubbled up and swallowed them in, suppressing them.
"That's new." Sirius commented, trying to catch Remus with a dirty twofer, sending a dangerous bone breaking hex at his arm, while immediately beginning to transfigure his shoes, with his attention hopefully drawn to either his words or his bone breaking hex.
"A little something I worked on abroad." Remus said, face coming more alive as he swayed out of the way of the bone breaker, easily undoing his transfiguration, while sending a silvery spell his way that Sirius had no idea what it was.
In precaution he both shielded and dodged to the side, which turned out to be wise, as the spell smashed his shield to pieces, going on to cratering the wall, the repair magic immediately beginning to fix the damage.
Sirius let out a barking laugh, "Hah! Got some bite to you still huh?"
The room crackled with energy as they moved, each spell cast with precision and skill. Spells collided and deflected, filling the room with bursts of light and echoing laughter. They danced around each other, weaving intricate patterns with their wands. If there was rust as they both had thought, it wasn't apparent as they kept pushing each other further and further into more dangerous magicks.
Delving into the kind of stuff they'd used in the war, when their lives were on the line and they were facing ruthless Death Eaters.
Sirius quickly realized he wouldn't be giving Remus quite the spanking he'd imagined, but felt exhilarated all the same.
An equal would push him better. Force him to evolve his fighting skills, completely shake off the rust and become someone that could hold the Minister's position.
By force if necessary.
His eager grin was bathed in shadow and light as spells flashed by,
It was the most alive he'd felt since he got out of Azkaban.
Likely also the most untroubled. There were no complications with women, no politics, no old men obsessed with chickens or prophesied children.
Just fighting, sweating, living.
After a shower, he'd retired to his office again, working through parchment work, as he awaited the arrival of his grandfather.
His mind was churning with plans to secure the support of three houses in particular in the Wizengamot. Essential to ensuring he'd get enough votes to get past Bagnold's stooge.
He'd need more, of course. But these three were all important in different manners, essential really to give him an in with other houses after. Purebloods who wouldn't dream of allying with him until he'd already shown that he could get the backing of these more neutral houses.
For a given part of neutrality since two of them regularly voted in alignment with the dark faction.
Greengrass, Shafiq, and Selwyn were all needed in the upcoming election. These were crucial alliances, ones that could make or break his bid for the Wizengamot. But convincing these influential families to side with him would require a deft touch and careful negotiation.
He could make it without gaining all of them, although it would necessitate some careful maneuvering, but if all three aligned against him, it would make things very difficult without support he didn't think he'd be able to gather easily.
He heard his grandfather before he saw him, the old man muttering under his breath as he shuffled into the office. He was displeased in general nowadays, something Sirius tended to just ignore to get shit done.
"Arcturus," Sirius called out, nodding respectfully, "Do you need a moment, a drink?" He offered, eager to get started, but well aware how prickly certain members of his family were. Especially this one.
"I'm fine, we'd best just get started, the Wizengamot is slipping through your fingers, and we can't dillydally." Arcturus muttered with rancor. Just as displeased as Sirius with how slowly the Wizengamot was warming up to the idea of a Black Minister.
"We need to devise a way to win over Greengrass." Sirius stated succinctly, looking at several of the parchments strewn across his desk, "They hold considerable sway in the wizarding world, at least with the neutrals and independents, and their support could be the key to our success."
The problem was - that they knew it…
Arcturus, ever the cantankerous old man, scowled at the mention of Greengrass. "Ah, yes, House Greengrass," He muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A bunch of self-important prigs who wouldn't know a good idea if it slapped them in the face."
Sirius barely suppressed a sigh. Very helpful, grandfather... He knew his grandfather's disdain for the Greengrass family ran deep, but he also knew that their support was vital if he wanted to emerge victorious in the election.
It wasn't even for any real damning reason, Sirius knew. Arcturus simply despised people who sat on the fence, never siding with anyone completely.
"We need to appeal to their sense of self-preservation," Sirius said, trying to keep the frustration of dealing with his grandfather, and the pureblood elite, out of his voice. "Show them that aligning themselves with us is the smartest move they could make."
Arcturus snorted derisively. "Ha! And how do you propose we do that, boy? Offer them a lifetime supply of gillyweed?"
Sirius' eyes burned, "Do not call me boy, again." He warned, calling on the family magic, the feeling in the room growing oppressive. "Be of some assistance, or be gone." He said coldly.
He allowed a certain measure of disrespect and sullenness, but he would not be talked down to. If he gave a finger, his family would take everything up until the elbow.
Arcturus looked like he'd swallowed his tongue, but he nodded stiffly, not the first time he'd needed the reminder, and it would not be the last, Sirius was sure.
At times, they could speak more familiarly, but not here, not while doing this. Polticia and business required respect and obedience. Or his family would again get the idea that they could follow their ideas of what was right.
Sirius resisted the urge to call Narcissa for advice instead. For all that she'd likely be better, he still hadn't made up his mind about her, the duel with Remus only enough to take off the edge of his irritation. "We need to demonstrate that our vision for the future aligns with theirs, even if just a little," He said, feeling distasteful at even entertaining the idea of sacrificing part of his corruption clean up to allow them their slice. For now. "Emphasize our shared goals and values, and show them that together, we can achieve great things."
The problem was in convincing them of that in a way that didn't offer more than Bagnold could - without losing out to Bagnold.
He needed some of these people onboard, but if he offered too much, to too many. He'd be stuck, unable to do anything due to his many ties binding him.
It was fine to offer a little leeway to some houses. If it meant he could clean up the rest, and eventually have the power to force even those allies into a justice based society.
Arcturus grunted in response, clearly unimpressed with the idea, for all that he likely knew it was necessary. "Fine, fine," He muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But mark my words, Sirius, those Greengrasses are a fickle bunch."
Sirius grimaced, well aware of their penchant to flip flop massively, based on what the best offer was in the Wizengamot that month. Finding a way to corral them would be difficult - unless he married one of them….
Sirius turned his attention to House Shafiq for now, they'd get back to a more detailed plan for the Greengrasses once they'd gone through everything. With the Shafiq's vast wealth and influence, they were a formidable ally, one whose support could greatly bolster his chances of success. Not really for their money however…
Sirius had plenty of that. It was their status as a more aloof and neutral house. One who usually didn't step into the fight between dark and light. One that therefore held a lot of sway over all factions as a truly neutral house.
Getting them onboard would bring him more than a half a dozen votes alone.
"Arcturus, what do you know of the Shafiq's," Sirius asked, turning the issue over in his head, "Their reputation could be what pushes us over the top, but convincing them to join forces with us won't be easy." More like it will be like wrestling a mountain troll with both hands tied behind your back, he thought irritably.
Arcturus snorted. "Ah, yes, the Shafiqs," he said, his voice laced with disdain. "A bunch of money-grubbing opportunists who wouldn't know loyalty if it bit them on the arse."
Sirius clenched his jaw, trying to ignore his grandfather's caustic remarks. I'm this close to just hexing him, is he trying to be purposefully unhelpful? "I think we need to appeal to their ambition or greed," He said, forging ahead. "They must want something, everyone desires something, even someone neutral."
The reason he was asking instead of just forging ahead, was that he needed someone with experience, like Arcturus or Narcissa. He did not have enough knowledge on the players, and although he was catching up with his reading, it wasn't personal knowledge.
These were the kinds of people - were making the wrong move could send them into Bagnold's arms for free - out of spite. He needed them, and he needed his own allies to take this shit seriously!
Arcturus grudgingly nodded his head, "I know someone who regularly deals with them, I can set up a meeting, clandestinely."
Sirius resisted the urge to snap finally! Instead, he took a deep breath and continued. "We need to find out an angle, something they would want," He said. "Something that can't just be replicated by Bagnold, because we'll lose a game of upmanship with her in regular matters."
Arcturus fell deep in thought, brow furrowed. Sirius went back to his parchment work as he let the old man think.
Finally, he spoke up slowly, "If I don't misremember… There was some sort of kerfuffle about fifty years back, some law the Shafiq's were outraged that it got repealed."
Sirius perked up, "Can you remember what it was?"
Arcturus shook his head slowly, "I can find out, but I only remember it because I was amused over how pissy those cowards were for ages."
Of course… Sirius thought, shaking his head. His grandfather the political genius… How he got anything done while hating every other house - he had no idea.
Perhaps Voldemort had not had a hand in ruining the Black house after all, Arcturus simply pissed off everyone else.
"Why haven't Bagnold already promised them to fix that I wonder…" Sirius mused out loud.
Arcturus rubbed his chin with a gnarled hand, "Because it would lose her support elsewhere." He intuned.
Sirius tapped his desk with his headship ring, "We need to find out why, if it's only her already locked in supporters she fears losing, or is it more broad?"
Because if it was something that would lose him ten houses to gain one, it was easy math, no matter their support, the Shafiq family did not bring ten votes by themselves, even with their allies.
"I'll find out." Arcturus promised, before pointing at him, "And forget the Selwyns, I can see their sigil from here amongst your parchmentwork, they'll never go for it." He cautioned, "They won't be persuaded no matter what you offer."
Sirius peered at him suspiciously, having already had several almost pleasant conversations with Lord Selwyn. Despite him being a dark house. He took it with a grain of salt of course, because you could never take anything for face value with purebloods like that. "Are you sure?" He asked, to clarify.
Arcturus smiled grimly, "I killed their last Lord, trust me, Sirius, I'm sure."
"Well… That's one sure vote for Bagnold's puppet then." Sirius admitted, sighing deeply.
Selwyn was a longshot anyway, someone he'd added due to their small positive interactions lately. He'd be able to bring some members of their faction that was currently outside Lucius sphere, so it would have been worth a run at it.
With Dumbledore on his side, he'd decided enough votes from the light to have an honest shot at the seat. With Lucius' assistance, he furthered his hold, but this was not years in the future, where the likes of Lucius Malfoy practically ran the Wizengamot and Ministry. His reach was smaller.
Likewise Dumbledore, due to his more informal approach, had several defectors in his following, bought by Bagnold. The old man could probably sway them back, but Sirius would have to convince him to put in that effort, beyond what their current deal had already laid out.
With what he had, he was close, oh so close. But Bagnold was still ahead. He could outbribe her in money anyday, but she was buying votes in laws.
If Sirius promised the same, he'd never be able to maneuver around the Wizengamot, hamstrung by promises that made them more powerful, and laws that made the corruption and malaise of the wizarding world worse.
So he couldn't follow her approach, hence why she actually had the lead.
The public was on his side, his campaign resonating much more with them than the puppets. But while he had that lead, Bagnold had the Wizengamot backing Fudge.
Just a few more steps…
Which brought him back to another neutral vote holder…
Isabella Zabini. Who held on to more than one vote thanks to her inheritance from her ex-husbands.
It all kept coming back to it, marriage would buy him the Minister's seat in all likelihood.
But at what cost.
And was the risk in trying to bargain with Greengrass and Shafiq worth it?
If he failed, if they went with Bagnold and he didn't get Isabella onboard…
He'd lost.
Sirius office, Black townhouse, the next day.
Narcissa's eyes gleamed in satisfaction as she walked in, no doubt fully aware that he'd only called her here to accept, because the truth was that he needed her. He'd just have to keep in mind that he would always have to look out for what angle the Malfoy's were looking towards.
He wasn't entirely opposed to them profiting from his rise, as long as they stayed in their corner, and didn't get too greedy… He'd hate to have to put his favorite cousin down.
Lucius of course he wouldn't mind ending anyday, especially for being willing to use his wife, Sirius cousin - like this.
It took a special kind of douchebag to send their wife to kneel before another man for political favor.
His ambitions made him the same, because Merlin damn it, he was accepting the deal. It sickened him at the same time as it made his pulse race.
To truly thrive within the filth of upper society, he'd need to immerse himself in it, it seemed. Or maybe that was just the excuse he was giving himself.
A smug smile tugged at the corners of Narcissa's lips as she seemed to sense his weary acceptance, his tacit agreement to her plan for a union of sorts. With a subtle shift of her posture, she exuded an aura of confidence and allure, a silent declaration of victory.
"I have come as you've ordered, my Lord," she purred, her voice low and melodious, laced with just a hint of satisfaction. "I'm pleased to see that you agree with embracing all avenues of connections and influence..." Her smile grew slightly more sensual as she added, "I'm sure we can add the delightful Lady Zabini with just a few conditions…"
As she spoke, Narcissa leaned forward ever so slightly, her movements graceful and deliberate, drawing Sirius' gaze like a moth to a flame. He could feel the tension in the air, thick with anticipation and desire, as they danced on the edge of something forbidden - yet irresistible.
Technically, he wasn't really Sirius, so what was the harm?
Yet in the back of his mind, he knew to keep on guard. He would not be led around by his cock, a puppet minister dancing to the tunes of a woman's wiles.
With a flick of her hair, she stepped forward, into his space as she brushed her fingertips lightly against Sirius' arm, a subtle gesture of intimacy that spoke volumes. "I look forward to working closely with you, Sirius, in more ways than one." She said leadingly, becoming more familiar, dropping the deferential my Lord.
Sirius watched her calmly, letting nothing show other than a flicker of desire. This would be a dangerous game to play.
For Narcissa Black was not just a player in the game of politics – she was a master strategist, a temptress in the shadows, wielding her beauty and charm like a weapon to achieve her ambitions - or her husband's... And as she stood there, basking in the glow of her triumph, exuding smugness, he knew that the road ahead would be dangerous, but he was more than ready to stand up the challenge.
He would not fail, he would not falter, she would not fool him.
He'd use her, as she used him, and he'd come out on top.
There was no other outcome.
As her family head, he didn't have to worry about her poisoning him, not that kind of poison anyway, no she'd be much subtler… Trying to infect him with her and her husband's views, trying to manage him into their ideal.
As Narcissa made to step away, gracefully, ready to depart with her victory secured, Sirius' hand shot out, halting her in her tracks. His gaze, intense and commanding, locked onto hers, a silent challenge passing between them.
"Narcissa," He said, his voice low and authoritative, "Before you go, there's something you need to understand. In this alliance… I am the one in charge... I make the decisions, I set the terms. And if you're going to be a part of this, you'll do things my way." You don't get to walk away smugly, thinking you're in charge here, Cissy…
She might have gotten what she wanted, but Sirius would not let her think for one moment that she controlled this alliance.
Narcissa's eyes widened slightly, a slow smile spread across her lips, a mixture of excitement and anticipation dancing in her eyes.
"Of course, Sirius," She replied, her voice a sultry purr, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Obvious lie, but she's a terrific actress, Sirius thought.
With a subtle shift of her body, she leaned closer to him, her breath mingling with his in the charged atmosphere between them. She could no doubt feel the heat of his gaze, his hunger let loose through her machinations. She couldn't miss the raw power radiating from him like a tangible force as he impressed his will - and all the power behind him as the Black Lord in his sanctum, and it clearly sent shivers down her spine, the most honest reaction he'd seen from her yet.
"I've held myself back, kept myself civil, confined myself to the expectations of others," Sirius spoke, with power behind it, his voice a low rumble, "Now, with you by my side, I feel... liberated. Together, we will reshape the wizarding world in our image, and nothing will stand in our way!"
Narcissa wasn't the only one playing a game here.
He'd show her the power she could experience by his side, and begin twisting her away from Lucius, already having the advantage of her strong family loyalty.
He placed his hand tightly around her wrist, pulling her flush against him, holding onto her, feeling Narcissa's heart racing with exhilaration as she listened to Sirius' words, her pulse not able to hide, like her expression could.
He wanted her to feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of standing by his side as they carved out their place in history. With every word, every gesture, Sirius planned to assert his dominance, knowing that it was bred into pureblood women to be attracted to such strength.
She'd surprised him, when she'd alluded to what game she was really playing. He was starting from behind - but he intended to win.
"Very well, Sirius," She said, her voice a husky whisper, "Lead the way. I'm yours to command." The shiver that went through her body, even she couldn't hide, as Sirius allowed his superior magic in this Black sanctum press in on her, caress her, make her feel like she's drowning in power.
She had made one mistake in her seduction.
Picking his office as the location.
His seat of power. The place in the world where he was the most powerful, and had the most control.
As Sirius's hand tightened around hers, a silent vow passed between them, sealing their alliance in blood and desire. They weren't just allies, but partners in crime, bound together by ambition and passion, ready to conquer whatever obstacles lay in their path.
Blushing slightly, beginning to feel the effects of Sirius' power, Narcissa attempted to retreat, managing to step away, because Sirius briefly allowed it, allowing the small chance for a reprieve.
No doubt she realized now that she had misstepped, had counted on him being hesitant about the family angle, on being sour about her forced deal.
She hadn't expected him to be fully willing after thinking over all the consequences and benefits.
Hadn't expected him to bring the full power of the lordship down on her head.
As Sirius' hand halted her departure before she could step too far away, Narcissa's demeanor shifted subtly in a last attempt to regain her composure, a coy smirk gracing her lips as she turned to face him. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of dark amusement and challenge, a silent invitation for him to try and unravel her composed facade.
She was clever, oh so clever. He thought, enjoying the sight of her body as she breathed in deeper, composing herself for the last push. But she's not creative enough…
He'd give her this last chance, for his own amusement if nothing else. But she would not walk out of this office without seeing who held the real power in this relationship.
"Sirius," She purred, her voice a tantalizing blend of sultry allure and icy detachment, "It does seem like you're eager to assert your dominance over me... But remember" She cautioned, tilting her head, keeping her chin up high, "Power is not simply seized; it is earned, cultivated, and wielded with finesse."
Perhaps for you… Sirius thought, knowing that the webs of politics and intrigue worked that way - but here, in his home, absolute power did simply seize.
Her words hung in the air, keeping a delicate balance between seduction and defiance. Even now she couldn't help herself, trying to score points, even as she maintained a tantalizing distance from him, just out of reach.
Though her body language exuded an air of sensuality, there was also a palpable chill in the air, a reminder from Narcissa that she wasn't one to be easily swayed - a futile effort considering what she'd entered to achieve.
Sirius' eyes narrowed, a flicker of frustration crossing his features at her choice to continue utilizing a teasing demeanor - while trying to deter him from having control at the same time.
"You say that as if you hold all the cards, Narcissa," He replied, his voice laced with resolve. "But remember, even the most untouchable of queens can be brought to her knees." His dark grin gave no doubt about what he meant.
Narcissa's smirk widened, a playful glint in her eyes that surprised him, as she stepped closer to him, her movements fluid and deliberate, he could see in her eyes that she'd decided to surrender to the moment, to try and find a way into control with her womanly wiles. "Is that a threat, Sirius? Or perhaps a promise?"
There was a moment of charged silence between them, the air thick with anticipation as they circled each other like predators in a game of cat and mouse. And though their words were laced with tension, there was an undeniable undercurrent of attraction that simmered beneath the surface.
A mix of frustration and desire fired through his veins. In Narcissa he had met a woman who could tease and tantalize with the best of them, while remaining as untouchable as the stars themselves.
Except… Not as untouchable anymore.
"It is a vow, Cissy." He promised, pushing forward, eyes hungrily devouring her.
If he was going to take this step, to bind them together like this, then he wouldn't take half measures.
"Vows are very serious, Sirius." Narcissa agreed, a playful tilt to her lips, as she stood still and observed him, as he loomed over her.
Seriously, that's what you go with? He thought, almost reflexively, doing a Sirius - serious joke. She almost threw him straight out of the mood there, the building tension that had come about of their wordplay.
Heh, good attempt, Cissy, just not good enough, he acknowledged, mentally.
"You've vowed to serve, Cissy. So why aren't you on your knees?" He growled out, coming to a stop in front of her, brushing a lock of perfect platinum blonde hair away from her face, before grabbing a fistul of that same hair, pulling it tightly into his hand. "Kneel." He ordered, tugging her down with his hold on her hair.
He stopped pulling, but kept his hand in her hair, as she gracefully sank to her knees, making even that motion seem like a queen deciding she'd prefer to sit that way.
"You're very skilled with words, Cissy, to even get this far - you have the silky smooth tongue of the sirens of ages past, I would even say." His fist tightened in her hair, almost painfully, as her eyes lost none of its aloofness, staring up at him through a half lidded gaze. "Show me." He demanded.
…
Narcissa left much much later that evening.
Sirius was sure she wasn't nearly as smug about her chances to run circles around him anymore.
Merlin damn it all! I still forgot to talk to her about how to deal with Zabini!
Author's note:
Poor Fudge doesn't get taken seriously, just constantly mentioned as the puppet or something similar. Poor poor puppet.
So except for the horny - this chapter was mostly set up for the next one where the battle for the Wizengamot begins, which will eventually lead to the election and its conclusion of that arc.
People may agree or disagree on the whole Narcissa thing.
But Imma gonna do it anyway, she sees where things are heading with Sirius, and her goal at all times is the survival and growth of her house, both of them.
And in her mind, what better way to ensure Sirius never lets her go.
Took awhile, unfortunately it's a bit more dry I suppose than my other stories, having more to do with politics and not so much with Hogwarts and Harry, that it's not getting a ton of love on Patron.
I do write for myself in part, but it's admittedly easier to write stories that have a lot of engagement as opposed to stories that do not.
But no matter, because it's here now!
Finally, an election cometh!
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool.
12 Grimmauld place, Black family townhouse.
The Black family was gathering to discuss the upcoming Ministerial election, time drawing close for the climax of all they'd worked for. At the head of the long, dark oak table sat Sirius, the current Lord of the House of Black, his expression as stormy as the weather outside.
Even with all the work they'd done. That he'd done. It was still too close to call. Neither he nor Bagnold could say for sure right now which one would be the winner.
Each of them had votes that drew them about equal, and the few neutrals remaining were playing coy, refusing to show their cards.
Around him were the esteemed members of the family, if you substituted esteemed for crazy bigots… His grandfather Arcturus sitting opposite of himself at the table - the patriarch of the family and the one responsible for its dreary state before he arrived to fix it.
Cassiopeia, the woman whose sharp tongue was feared by many, and yet failed to achieve anything noteworthy, was seated next to his grandfather. She'd helped somewhat, he could grudgingly admit, and compared to Cygnus and Pollux she'd certainly been more effective.
But like most of his family, she'd gotten too used to her family reputation, her skills rusted, her legendary wit not quite as sharp as he'd remembered. A pity.
Pollux and Cygnus were sitting opposite of each other at the middle of the table, both men having contributed very little to Sirius's plans, mostly being a hindrance, if he were honest. If he was more Black than he was, he might have contemplated removing them from play entirely. Like he had Walburga, or something more permanent…
If he became Minister, he might actually have to think on it, because odds were these two idiots would cause a scandal at some point.
Lastly his gaze was drawn to the most useful member of the family. Narcissa. Seated by him, as his most trusted confidant, which didn't say much as he didn't trust any of them, not really.
She was the most useful, however.
As the family members settled into their seats, the tension in the room was palpable. The upcoming election for the Minister of Magic was the primary concern, with Sirius poised to win the popular vote easily. However, the Wizengamot, the powerful governing body whose votes truly mattered, seemed less inclined to follow along.
The popular vote had swayed some members his way, but not enough he thought. He didn't like waiting on the few remaining neutrals, because odds were they'd end up bribed by Bagnold in the end, and in that case it would be his loss.
If it was only money in question, he'd give them half the Black vault if necessary, but the remaining holdouts dealt in favors. And Sirius's goal once he became Minister, would fall apart if he tied so many strings to himself from the old traditionalists.
Sirius looked around the table, his eyes lingering on each family member, gauging their readiness for the discussion ahead. "We are on the brink of something monumental," He began, his voice steady but urgent. "The popular vote is in our favor, we've done good work there, but the Wizengamot remains a challenge. If anyone has any ideas, now would be the time to share..."
Narcissa leaned forward, her eyes flashing with frustration. "Perhaps if you had considered securing a marriage alliance, we wouldn't be in this predicament," She said, her tone accusatory.
Sirius grimaced, but held his tongue back from his immediately snappish response. Narcissa would never understand what held him back from finalizing that particular arrangement.
Cassiopeia nodded in agreement, her lips pursed. "Indeed, Sirius. A strategic marriage could have swayed key votes in our favor. You've neglected this aspect far too long."
Sirius sighed, rubbing his temples, dealing with family gave him migraines and they'd just sat down. "I understand the importance of alliances, but my focus has been on presenting policies that will benefit our world, not on finding a bride." He gave Cassiopeia a dry look, well aware of her single status, "And the ties a marriage alliance would bind me in are no different than some of the favors we've been asked for, and would completely destroy what I'm trying to do."
Arcturus slammed his fist on the table, making the crystal goblets clatter. "Policies! Bah! Policies mean nothing without power to enforce them, and you know it! You should have listened to Narcissa. What use are her womanly wiles if she cannot even secure a marriage alliance for you?"
Narcissa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Grandfather, with all due respect, I have tried. But Sirius is stubborn and insists on doing things his way." She defended herself.
Sirius wanted to sigh, but he allowed his family to keep talking. He'd completely defeat the point of trying to get their thoughts if he took charge completely of the meeting.
It was Narcissa's own fault, really. If she hadn't acted so beautifully smug after their dalliances, then the rest of the family wouldn't have figured out exactly how she was negotiating with him.
Cygnus, for once acting the diplomat instead of the weak fool, interjected. "Enough. We must focus on the task at hand." He said, before sinking into his chair slightly as everyone's gaze turned to him, "Criticizing each other will not win us the election. We need to strategize a plan on how to gain more support within the Wizengamot for these last few days." He trailed off weakly at the end, but it was more backbone than Sirius had seen from him in a while.
Good for him.
Maybe in another decade he'll actually be a useful human being.
Pollux leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. "We have a few avenues left to explore," He said slowly, as if testing the words, seeing if anyone was wont to stop him. "Firstly, we can still attempt to negotiate with the undecided members of the Wizengamot. Promises of political favors or positions within the Ministry might sway their votes." He grimaced and held up a hand before Sirius could say anything, "I know you are against it, but losing is worse than owing some favors…"
Arcturus snorted derisively. "Bribes and promises. The problem with them is that it won't last, these last holdouts are the slipperiest, they won't follow easily, or cheaply."
Pollux continued, ignoring the interruption, with only a slight tightening of his expression. "Secondly, we can use our influence to create pressure from the public. If we can generate enough popular support, some members might switch their votes to avoid backlash."
They did have enormous public support compared to Bagnold's puppet. It in itself wouldn't get them the win, but Pollux wasn't entirely wrong in that some Wizengamot members would be hesitant to do obviously thumb their noses at the public by electing someone even the dimmest of the sheep will recognize had no public backing.
Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "I've been working on rallying public opinion of course. We've held rallies, and I've given speeches highlighting our platform. But we need more. Perhaps a grand event to showcase our vision for the future?" He suggested.
Something that would showcase more obviously to the Wizengamot the risks they ran in so obviously disregarding the public and his hold of them.
Why, if he lost… He had the makings of a revolution on his hands.
He wouldn't do so of course. But it wouldn't hurt to put the thought in some members' ears..
Cassiopeia's eyes gleamed. "A grand gala, you mean? Invite the key members of the Wizengamot, along with influential figures from our society. Show them the strength and unity of the Black family."
Sirius shook his head slowly, "Yes, but also no. Of course we have to invite all those people, but we need to make it an event, give the regular people a chance to be involved - give the lords and ladies a view of how much they adore me."
A ball or gala for the pureblood elite, and perhaps some sort of carnival adjacent, free entry for all the normal citizens, and within perfect viewing sight from the ballroom…
They'd have to expand the townhouse gardens massively, but it was built to be able to handle rapid growth like that.
Narcissa leaned back, a calculating look on her face, she obviously could parse through exactly what Sirius wanted, it's what made her such a useful right hand. "And who will be your date to this grand gala, Sirius? Appearing alone will only reinforce the idea that you are not serious about alliances." She practically purred out, still no doubt considering a possible marriage alliance, if not consummated before the vote.
They didn't have time for that. But the contract could be struck at the eleventh hour.
Sirius's jaw tightened. "I will find someone suitable. But let's focus on the preparations first." He said tightly, avoiding it.
He had decided a marriage with someone he'd likely end up hating wasn't worth it. Especially if he was to end up taking care of Harry Potter. He didn't need that kind of toxic relationship as his role model. The world fucked him enough, and although Sirius didn't care as much for the child as the original had, he was hardly that cruel either that he'd purposely make things worse.
Arcturus glared at Narcissa. "You've knelt before him, worked your charms, but where has it gotten us? You've failed to secure even a single advantageous match. If you cannot use your wiles to benefit this family, what good are they?" The old man seeing his opportunity to grouse now that Narcissa had waded back into the subject.
Narcissa stood abruptly, her hands clenched into fists, her cheeks blossoming red. "I have done everything in my power to support this family. But it's not my fault if Sirius won't play his part!"
Sirius raised a hand to calm her. "Narcissa, sit down. This is not helping." He cautioned, surprised at her emotional reaction, it was hardly like her.
They'd had their dalliance for two months now, and he'd rarely seen her get worked up by anything. Trust Arcturus to find a way to let his grumpiness about everything throw the meeting out of whack.
He sent his grandfather a quelling look, warning him away from any future derails, it was not helping.
Cassiopeia shot a warning glance at Arcturus as well, "This is not the time to tear each other apart. We need solutions, not accusations."
Arcturus grumbled but fell silent, his eyes still burning with frustration. Like Narcissa, he'd been adamant Sirius marry.
Sirius suspected in his case it had less to do with alliances, and more to do with ensuring the line continued.
Sirius cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation, they all seemed in agreement about beginning with this gala, so they'd start there. "We need to assign tasks. Pollux, you will handle negotiations with the undecided members. Cassiopeia, you oversee the preparations for the gala with Narcissa. Cygnus and Arcturus I need you to quell any unrest in the more traditional members that we have swayed, to keep them as such. Narcissa, when you're not helping Cassie, work with our public relations team to maximize media coverage and buy in from the general public. I don't want anyone to miss this party, we'll give the sheep a carnival to enjoy in sight of our reluctant members."
Sirius nodded at his own orders, seeing the reaction of his family, feeling a semblance of order returning to the meeting. "I will continue with the public engagements and speeches for now. We need to show the Wizarding world that we are united and strong and most importantly that I am the only choice for the public."
Cygnus glanced hesitantly at Sirius. "And your date for the gala?" He brought up quietly, no doubt not wanting another argument, but it would be an important choice.
Sirius hesitated for a moment. "I will speak with Isabella Zabini. Perhaps she can support us without needing to bind it with marriage."
Narcissa scoffed, a distasteful expression on her face. "Isabella Zabini, the most enigmatic and ambitious one of the neutrals?"
Sirius sighed, "We can only try." He admitted.
In the days that followed, the Black family threw themselves into their respective tasks. The grand ballroom of the townhouse was transformed into a vision of elegance and power. Invitations were sent out to the most influential witches and wizards, and the event quickly became the talk of the town.
This also trickled down, as the separate event, held at the same time, in the expanded townhouse garden, circulated amongst the magical population.
It was all arranged on incredibly short notice. But magic could fix most things, and due to the upcoming election, his name was in vogue enough that even the stuffiest purebloods would show up, because they couldn't afford to miss it.
The regular people would of course show up based on the fact he'd used the most magical world of them all.
Free.
He wondered if Andromeda would get mad for him co-opting her new charity organization as the organizer of the event…
It did neatly force her to return to the Black home, or face questions on why she was absent from her own charity's event.
Perhaps a bit manipulative of him, but he wanted her back in the fold. He'd been fine with leaving her mostly out of it, but if he was going to succeed, he'd need all hands on deck.
And that included her. And her husband.
And whether she liked it or not, once she was here, the world would see her as back in Black, whether she was or not.
She was going to hex him so hard…
But in the end.
Still his win.
The night of the gala arrived, and the Black family townhouse was expanded to larger than life, more akin to a proper manor on the inside. It was aglow with light and life. Guests arrived in their finest robes, the air buzzing with excitement and speculation. Sirius, dressed impeccably, made his way through the crowd, greeting each guest with a warm smile and a firm handshake.
The carnival had already started out back, the large windows from the ballroom giving a perfect view of the mass of humanity out there, all supporting Sirius Black. And if the free drinks were adding in the chants of Sirius for Minister that spontaneously popped up, well…
It was a small cost to pay.
At his side was Isabella Zabini, her striking figure squeezed inside an elegant tight gown that seemed to shimmer with every movement. She had of course accepted the date. Even at such short notice.
She had her own agenda, Sirius knew. And definitely wanted to marry him, holding her votes over his head. This gala was also an opportunity for her to get what she wanted - as it was for Sirius to try and convince her of what he wanted, without giving in to her demands.
The grand ballroom itself was a sight to behold. Chandeliers floated above, casting a soft, magical glow over the room. Enchanted flowers bloomed and changed colors, filling the air with a delicate fragrance. The tables were laden with sumptuous feasts, roasted meats with saffron glaze, enchanted soufflés that changed flavors with each bite, and goblets of sparkling elf-made wine that never seemed to empty.
It all cost a load of galleons to set up so quickly, but money was useless sitting around, only spent to further his ambitions did it have any worth.
Narcissa and Cassiopeia kept a watchful eye on the interactions between members of the Wizengamot, noting the receptive responses from several members. Pollux and Cygnus moved through the crowd, discreetly reminding certain members of the promises made, ensuring that they felt the weight of their potential support.
Arcturus held court with several of the traditionalists, some of which still called themselves neutrals. Standing by one of the tall windows, the backdrop of public support lending aid to his arguments.
The gala was soon in full swing, the grand ballroom of the Black family home filled with the crème de la crème of the Wizarding world. Light from the floating chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elegant décor, the sound of enchanting music mixed with the hum of conversations, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Sirius navigated the sea of guests with practiced ease, yet his mind was elsewhere. He needed to secure more votes from the Wizengamot, and there was one person whose support could tip the balance in his favor, his date, Isabella Zabini.
Sirius had managed to get her to the gala, but now he needed to ensure her support without binding himself in a marriage alliance. He finally found time to drag her to a quiet alcove, away from the bustling crowd, once he'd finished his duties in greeting all the guests.
"Sirius," She said with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Not enjoying your own party? Dragging me off to a quiet place like this could make a woman think naughty things, you realize?"
"Isabella," He responded wearily, used to her flirtatious behavior by now. "In case I forgot to say it when you arrived, I'm glad you could make it, with you on my arm I definitely have the most beautiful of dates. I was hoping we could have a more private conversation now..."
Her smile widened, and she gestured to the empty space beside her. "Of course. I always enjoy our little chats."
Sirius sat down on the ledge, taking a deep steadying breath. "Isabella, I need your support for the election. Your influence in the Wizengamot could make all the difference." He met her eyes firmly, "You know this, and you've been holding out for something that will never happen…"
She tilted her head, regarding him with a sly look. "And what do I get in return for my support then, Sirius? Surely you understand that such a favor does not come without a price." She leaned forward slightly, her cleavage on display, "If I don't get my marriage, what do I get?" She purred, a taunting little smirk on her face.
She was well aware of the position she held. She could in all likelihood break the deadlock, if she tipped over his way, the rest of the undecided would likely follow.
"I understand," He said, his voice steady. "I am prepared to offer you anything within my power. Positions within the Ministry, political favors, resources - name it, and it's yours."
He hated it. He didn't want to do it. But if it was just her… He could potentially live with owing just one of them, this kind of favor.
His family were correct in that his principles on the subject were worth less than hippogriff shit if he lost.
He put himself in this situation due to his reluctance in tying the knot. He'd have to sacrifice some of what he wanted to dig himself out of it.
She leaned closer, her perfume enveloping him in a delicate, intoxicating scent. "Anything, Sirius? You know what I want." She trilled seductively.
He met her gaze, his expression hardening. "I know what you're implying, but I cannot give you that. I will not enter into a marriage alliance." He said, steadfast in that conviction.
Isabella's eyes narrowed, her smile turning into a pout. "Why not? It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your political career would soar, and I would secure a position of influence and some amazing time between the sheets. It seems like a perfect match."
Sirius shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I have my reasons. Marriage should be based on more than just political gain." That wasn't all of it, but he wasn't willing to share more with the Black Widow.
She laughed softly, a musical sound that was both enchanting and slightly mocking. "How very noble of you. But nobility alone doesn't win elections, Sirius. Power does. And a marriage alliance with me would give you that power."
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, not caring about showing his frustration here, this woman already knew as much, he didn't have to keep up pretenses. "There must be something else I can offer. Anything but marriage. You will not get what you want entirely out of this, Isabella." He acknowledged, "But it doesn't mean you have to come away without anything, just name it."
She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. "Why are you so opposed to it? Is there someone else?"
"No," He replied quickly. Merlin knew if he told her about Narcissa she'd likely begin plotting murder. "It's not that. I just... I believe in choosing my own path, not being forced into one."
Isabella sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I understand your sentiment, Sirius, but you must realize that in our world, power and alliances often dictate our choices. You are in a position where personal feelings must sometimes be set aside for the greater good."
Sirius looked away, the weight of her words sinking in. He knew she was right in a manner of speaking, even as he hated those two words, but he also knew he couldn't betray his own principles to that extent. "Isabella, I respect you and the power you hold in this situation. But I can't bind myself in a marriage like this. There has to be another way."
She reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Very well, Sirius. I will… Consider your request. But remember, my support doesn't come easily. You will owe me, and I will collect that debt in due time." Her eyes were colder as she gazed at him, "If I choose to help…"
With that, she rose gracefully from her seat, giving him one last enigmatic smile before gliding back into the crowd. Sirius watched her go, a mixture of relief and unease settling over him. He had perhaps secured her support, but at what cost? And the fact he didn't have a straight answer still left him going forward without a sure resolution. The thought lingered in his mind as he rejoined the gala, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily on his shoulders.
He could solve it all with a marriage contract. It didn't even have to be her. He could choose another one if the neutrals.
He just… It was one step too far for him. Bringing a stranger into his life so intimately only for his ambitions, using them, as they used him.
He would not.
He could not.
The night continued, the music and laughter carrying on, but Sirius felt a shift within himself. He had navigated one hurdle, but many more lay ahead. He glanced around the ballroom, catching sight of the key members of the Wizengamot. Each interaction, each conversation, would be crucial. The stakes were higher than ever, and he knew he had to play his cards right.
The noises from the carnival were infiltrating the ballroom, noise canceling charms deliberately not applied.
He located Andromeda at one of the windows, holding a goblet of wine, staring out at the mass of people enjoying themselves in a far more pleasant manner than this fake environment.
"Ted couldn't make it?" He asked quietly, as he came to stand next to her. His own date off somewhere, politicking or flirting, no doubt.
Andromeda didn't say anything for several minutes, white knuckles holding on to her goblet.
Sirius almost spoke up again, but she finally broke the silence, speaking over the chants of Sirius for Minister from down below them.
"I sent Ted to the carnival with Nymphadora, they'd enjoy that far more than this…" She said, turning his way with an emotionless expression on her face.
"I suppose that's only fair, although I would have ensured his safety here as well. Both of theirs." Sirius said, stepping up to the window, his hands behind his back.
As Lord Black he held complete power over Andromeda in this building, and she knew it. Part of why she had no intention to return, no doubt. The least he could do was to appear non threatening, and keep his hands far away from his wand.
Especially considering he'd forced her to come.
"Why won't you leave me be? There was no reason to use the charity for this event. You would have had the same response if you'd just called it a Black family gala." Andromeda asked, still entirely coldly and emotionless.
He didn't doubt she was heavily occluding right now.
He sighed, "Deep down you already know why, Andi, this family needs you, needs your perspective, your skills. We have to change, and who better than the one who already changed, to show us how?"
There was silence between them again for a while, as they simply listened to the party going on below.
"That's pure hippogriff shit." Andromeda replied bluntly, "You're not running for Minister for any other reason than power." She scoffed, showing some actual emotions, "If you really wanted to change the family, you wouldn't have directed their course on taking over the Ministry of Magic."
Sirius really wondered how on earth she'd become so jaded - and so against him in particular. He could understand the rest of the family, but why him?
"Is there nothing I can do to convince you, Andi? This gala alone will have brought your charity thousands of galleons, is this not for the good of everyone?" Sirius tried, a perturbed look on his face.
He'd known she'd be hard to convince, but he hadn't expected her to show up with not even a chink in her armor.
Andromeda looked at him, before placing her untouched goblet down on a nearby table, "No." Was all she said, before she swept away, leaving him standing there alone.
Sirius wouldn't give up. He'd forced her to be here, he could understand her reluctance. Hopefully the fact he did not use his powers over her would eventually sink in, and begin the process of showing her that he did not intend to ruin what she had with Ted and Nymphadora.
The night continued on, Sirius spending it with the cream of the wizarding world, wishing he could kill at least half of them.
The gala and the carnival ended up a success in almost every way in the end. And he did see some progress.
Yet still, he could not say for certain he'd be Minister.
He couldn't wait and hope for Zabini to choose him, he'd have to simply try harder elsewhere.
There would be no rest for him.
He'd have to ask for help.
He wasn't so prideful that he'd lose the vote for something as simple as bending his neck slightly.
Even if it would be infuriating.
The day after, late evening, Hogwarts Headmaster's office,
The flickering flames in the hearth of the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts cast long shadows on the walls, as Sirius moved inside with a purposeful stride, his face set in a mask of determination. The usual fake warmth that accompanied a meeting with Dumbledore was absent, replaced by a palpable tension.
"Good evening, Sirius," Dumbledore greeted, his voice gentle but firm. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Sirius did not waste time with pleasantries, Dumbledore already knew exactly why he was here, no matter what he'd say. "We need to talk, Albus. The election is right around the corner, and the votes are not where they need to be. Your public support has been helpful, but it's not enough. We need you to do more."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered Sirius's words. "I have already spoken out on your behalf, and my faction within the Wizengamot is aligned with your campaign. I have made my position clear." He said almost gently, peering at him over his half-moon glasses.
"That's not enough!" Sirius ground out, his frustration over the last two months, boiling over. "We're teetering on the edge of losing this election. We need more votes from the neutral families, and you have the influence to sway them. You could lobby for us, press them to support our cause."
Unsaid between them was the fact that wizards respected power more than almost anything. Dumbledore actively pushing would make some of them fold. Which was why the old man never actually went ahead and did that. His own principles in play.
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed slightly. "I understand your urgency, Sirius, but I have given you my support. My public endorsement and the alignment of my faction are significant gestures. I cannot go beyond that." He restated, more firmly this time.
Sirius's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Why not? You have the power to tip the scales. These neutral families respect you, they listen to you. A few words from you could change everything." You owe me…
Dumbledore's expression remained calm, though a hint of sadness touched his features. "I have already committed to speaking out publicly and aligning my faction with yours. That is the extent of what I can offer." He repeated, not even bothering to talk around it.
It said something when Albus Dumbledore wouldn't engage in even a debate, just repeating his point. He was not going to move one inch.
This had been a mistake. Sirius had hoped for some leftover guilt or shame to push the envelope. But there was nothing.
Sirius took a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger. "So that's it, then? You're just going to sit back and watch as we potentially lose this election? After everything we've done, after all the sacrifices?"
Bagnold and Fudge would hardly forget where Dumbledore had aligned himself, a loss would hurt the old man too, yet he wouldn't step onto the field…
Dumbledore's gaze did not waver. "You must understand, Sirius, that my influence is not limitless. Each individual in the Wizengamot has their own dreams, their own agendas. They are not merely pawns to be moved at my command. My public support is a powerful statement, but I cannot force their hands." He stressed, "That is one step away from tyranny."
Sirius felt a surge of frustration and bitterness. "I expected better from you, Albus. You, of all people, should understand what's at stake here. This isn't just about politics; it's about the future of our world."
He'd actually expected him to do more. He didn't know why, but he'd expected Dumbledore to take this chance to get someone aligned with his views into the hot seat.
And yet at the finishing line he'd quibble over a few Lords pressured, really?
Dumbledore sighed softly, his eyes reflecting a deep well of experience and understanding. "Sirius, if you truly wish to be Minister, you must remember this moment. Leadership is not about coercion or manipulation. It is about inspiring others to follow you because they believe in your vision. Trying to squeeze more from those who have already given much will not win you loyalty or respect."
Sirius's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting together. "I will keep my word, Albus. But mark my words, I had expected more from you."
Dumbledore watched him shrewdly, "As had I of you, Sirius, or in this situation perhaps it's more appropriate to call you Lord Black?"
Sirius growled low in his throat, "Albus, I can't understand you, this… This sitting on your hands bullshite is how everything went to hell last time around!"
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "And perhaps one day you will understand the reasons behind my actions. Power is a delicate thing, Sirius. It is not about bending others to your will, but about guiding them towards a common goal."
Sirius turned away, the weight of Dumbledore's words pressing heavily on his shoulders. He had come seeking more support, more influence, but instead, he was leaving with a lesson in leadership that he was not yet ready to accept, couldn't afford to. He needed to win. He paused at the door, looking back at Dumbledore one last time.
"This isn't over," He said quietly. "I will find a way to win this election. With or without your help."
Dumbledore inclined his head, his expression inscrutable. "I wish you the best of luck, Sirius. Remember, true power lies not in what you can take, but in what you can inspire others to give, winning isn't everything my boy, the journey can be as rewarding as the end."
Sirius left the office, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He knew Dumbledore was right in some ways, but the urgency of the situation demanded action, not philosophical musings. The path to victory seemed narrower than ever, and the weight of the future bore down on him with relentless pressure.
The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet as he made his way out, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The school held so many memories for him from the original, both good and bad, and now it seemed to stand as a silent witness to his struggles. He needed to find another way to secure the votes they needed, and quickly.
As he stepped out into the crisp night air, he took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. The stakes were too high to allow frustration and anger to cloud his judgment. He had allies, resources, and a vision for the future. He just needed to harness them effectively.
His conversation with Dumbledore played over in his mind. The old man's words were infuriatingly wise, and yet Sirius couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment. Tonight had revealed a gap between them that seemed wider than ever.
Perhaps it was for the best.
Once he took custody of Harry and left him in Remus' care, while technically under himself - Dumbledore would become, if not an enemy, an opponent at least.
The night was silent, save for the distant hoot of an owl. Sirius stood outside Hogwarts for a moment, gazing up at the stars. Each one represented a hope, a dream, a promise of a brighter future. And he was determined to make that future a reality.
Someone needed to change the magical world. And he was the only one with the proper motivation and means to do it.
With a final, resolute nod, he turned towards the gate and headed out. There was much work to be done, and the clock was ticking. He couldn't afford to waste any more time.
The election loomed closer with each passing day, and Sirius knew that every decision he made now would shape the outcome. He had the support of his family, the backing of Dumbledore's faction, even if it wasn't as fully as he'd wished, and he had the drive to see his vision through. Now, it was a matter of turning those assets into victory.
Same night, Staffordshire.
Burke the elder stepped out of the emerald flames, brushing soot from his robes as he arrived home. The familiar surroundings of his sitting room greeted him, and he began to relax, until he noticed the figure already seated, calm and composed, in his favorite armchair. Lucius Malfoy, with his distinctive platinum hair and cold, piercing eyes, held his cane with a casual air that belied the tension in the room.
"Good evening, Burke," Lucius said smoothly, his voice as cool as ice. "I trust your journey was uneventful."
Burke stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he took in the intruder. "Malfoy," He replied, his tone biting. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you enter my home uninvited?"
How did he enter? The wards… They're still up? Those filthy Goblins! Did they sell him out? How dare they!?
Lucius raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. "I have come to discuss a matter of some urgency. The upcoming election, to be precise. I believe it is in your best interest to lend your support to Sirius Black."
Burke's lip curled in disdain. "Support Dumbledore's pet? Spare me, Malfoy. I have no intention of pandering to your family's whims, nor his."
He'd never support anyone of Arcturus' spawn no matter the relation, whether they were light, dark or neutral, it didn't matter. He would not stand for a Black in the Minister's seat.
Lucius's expression remained unchanged, but a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. "Sirius Black is a Pureblood Lord, a far better choice than the likes of Fudge, who is nothing but a puppet for Bagnold. Your support would ensure the stability and continuity of our way of life." He counseled smoothly.
Burke knew Malfoy didn't care about anything but himself, so he was hardly convinced by such a limp argument. Besides, his vote alone wouldn't be enough, not that there was a point in arguing that, because it wouldn't happen.
Burke sneered darkly, his posture rigid with defiance. "I owe you nothing, Malfoy. I will not be coerced into supporting someone simply because you deem it advantageous."
Just because he somehow got into his ancestral home, did not make him lesser. He was the Lord, his power here was absolute. If Lucius tried something, he'd come to regret it quickly.
Lucius leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "I do many things for my wife, as she does for me. Narcissa has a vested interest in her cousin's success, and she would be most displeased if he were to fall at this crucial point. You will vote as I suggest, Burke." The threat in his voice was unmistakable.
Burke's face contorted with anger, though a flicker of fear danced in his eyes. Why was Lucius so confident? How did he get in? "You dare threaten me in my own home? Do you know who you're dealing with, Malfoy?"
Lucius remained composed, his grip tightening on his cane. "I am fully aware, Burke. But it seems you do not understand the gravity of the situation. Narcissa's displeasure is not something to be taken lightly." He tilted his head, eyes coldly assessing him, "My darling wife has asked for something, I intend to give it to her."
Burke's fear transformed into fury, and he reached for his wand. "I will not be bullied by the likes of you. Get out of my house!" He snapped.
Lucius's eyes narrowed, and in an instant, his own wand was drawn, the tip gleaming ominously. "I suggest you reconsider your stance, Burke. This is not a negotiation."
What is he even doing? He can't overpower me in my own home? Burke thought, eyes flickering wildly to and fro, as he tried to understand where this confidence came from.
The air in the room grew thick with tension, the two wizards locked in a silent battle of wills. Burke's hand trembled slightly, the reality of his predicament sinking in. Lucius Malfoy was not a man to be trifled with, and the consequences of defying him were severe. He held the advantage due to his home, but Lucius' confidence was throwing him off, making him wonder.
"You think you can intimidate me?" Burke spat, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear. "I will not bow to you or your family."
Lucius's wand remained steady, his gaze unwavering. "This is not about bowing, Burke. This is about survival. The future of our world hangs in the balance, and your vote could tip the scales. Make the wise choice, or face the consequences."
Burke's bravado faltered, the weight of Lucius's words pressing down on him. He knew the Malfoys had considerable influence and resources, and crossing them would be a dangerous move. His defiance slowly crumbled, replaced by a reluctant acceptance of the reality before him.
"Very well," Burke muttered, lowering his wand. "I will cast my vote for Black. But know this, Malfoy - I do this not out of fear, but because it aligns with my interests. Do not think you have won."
Lucius inclined his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Of course, Burke. I am merely ensuring that our interests align. Your cooperation is appreciated."
With that, Lucius stood, smoothing his robes as he prepared to leave. He had accomplished what he had come for, and there was no need to linger, the thought was obvious to Burke as the man moved. As he walked past Burke, he paused briefly, his cold eyes locking onto Burke's once more.
Burke's hand clenched into a fist as he watched Lucius, a surge of defiance rising within him, why was he bending anyway? This was his home? "No, Malfoy. I won't be your puppet. I won't support Black." He said, having regained his courage.
His home. His rules.
Lucius stopped, turning slowly to face Burke again. His expression was unreadable, but a dangerous glint shone in his eyes. "I was hoping we could come to an understanding, Burke. Unfortunately, you've left me no choice."
Before Burke could react, Lucius raised his wand and uttered, "Imperio."
Burke's eyes widened in horror as the spell took hold, it should be impossible, why weren't his wards working! His will bent under the overpowering force of Lucius's command. His defiant stance crumbled, replaced by a vacant, compliant expression.
"You will vote for Sirius Black," Lucius commanded, his voice calm and authoritative. "And after the vote, you will take a vacation. Leave the British Isles and do not return, you will give your Lordship to your nephew, not your son, you will make that very clear in your will."
Burke nodded mechanically, his mind no longer his own. "I will vote for Sirius Black. I will take a vacation and not return, my nephew will be made Lord Burke, explicitly laid out in my will"
Lucius lowered his wand, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Good. Now, go about your business as if nothing has happened. We wouldn't want anyone to suspect anything, would we?"
Burke, still under the spell, nodded obediently. Lucius watched him for a moment longer, ensuring that his commands had taken full effect, before turning and striding towards the fireplace. He tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames, stepping into the green glow and disappearing from sight.
The room fell silent once more, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Burke stood there for a moment, his mind foggy and controlled, before slowly resuming his routine as if nothing had happened. The tension of the confrontation lingered in the air, a testament to the power struggle that had just taken place.
…
As Lucius emerged from the fireplace in his own manor, he allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. The pieces were falling into place, and the Malfoys would not be denied their influence. The election was far from decided, but with every move, they drew closer to securing their position.
The night was silent, the stars twinkling in the sky as if watching over the unfolding events. Lucius knew there were more challenges ahead, more obstacles to overcome, but he relished the fight. Power was not given; it was taken, and he was determined to seize it for his family.
For now, he would return to Narcissa, sharing the news of his success and plotting their next move. The election loomed ever closer, and with it, the future of the wizarding world. Lucius Malfoy was ready to shape that future, one spell, one vote at a time.
Morning after,
Sirius Black found himself standing before the austere, uninviting facade of Bartemius Crouch Sr's home. The house was a clear reflection of its owner - stern, utilitarian, and devoid of any warmth. The manicured lawns were perfect to a fault, the hedges trimmed with military precision, and the gravel path leading to the door was meticulously even. It was the kind of place that shouted order and discipline, leaving no room for frivolity or comfort.
How very apropos.
Sirius knocked, and after a moment, a house-elf opened the door, its demeanor as stiff as its master's. "Master Crouch is expecting you," It squeaked, leading Sirius through the cold, echoing hallways lined with portraits of severe-looking ancestors. The interior was just as unwelcoming as the exterior - barely decorated, with a color palette of grays and browns that seemed to suck the life out of the rooms.
Dear Merlin, this is depressing…
Bartemius Crouch Sr, awaited in his study, a room that could have doubled as a courtroom. It was filled with dark wood furniture, all meticulously polished and arranged. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick tomes on law and governance, their spines unbroken. Crouch himself sat behind a large mahogany desk, his back ramrod straight, and his face set in a permanent scowl. The atmosphere was suffocating, and Sirius felt a pang of regret for having to endure this meeting.
"Lord Black." Crouch greeted him with a curt nod, his voice as rigid as his demeanor. "Sit."
Sirius took the proffered chair, resisting the urge to make a flippant remark about the warmth of the welcome. Instead, he settled into the seat and waited for Crouch to speak.
He was an ally, of sorts, even if an expendable one (not that he knew that).
"I have to say, Lord Black," Crouch began, his eyes flashing with irritation, "You are throwing this election away on sentiments and dross. Do you realize how close you are to losing? A wife could have pushed you above the threshold, but you - "
Sirius raised a hand, cutting him off, not about to take this from him as well of all people. "I appreciate your concern, Barty, but marrying for political gain would leave me indebted to a family that could later demand their own benefits. Imagine if they wanted their own people in the Ministry, replacing you. Would you still agree to the marriage?" He said, finishing slightly mockingly.
Crouch's face contorted with anger, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of his chair. "That's preposterous! The stability of our governance should come first."
Sirius leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Crouch's. "Exactly. And what stability is there if I owe my position to another family's influence? Your career would be over if Bagnold and Fudge win. It would also be over if someone owns me as I win… Is that what you want?"
Crouch's scowl deepened, but he couldn't deny the logic in Sirius's words. "You make a fair point," He grumbled, his tone begrudgingly conceding. "However, it doesn't change the fact that your chances are slipping away."
"Which is precisely why I'm here," Sirius replied, his voice cool and controlled. "I need you to lean on some of the neutral families you have a good rapport with. We need their votes, and you're in a unique position to persuade the last of them."
Crouch sighed, the sound filled with exasperation. "And what do I get out of this? My career is at stake, as you pointed out, if I push them they'll ask me for favors."
Sirius allowed a small, calculating smile. "Ensure our victory, and your position is secure. Fail, and we both know what happens." He met his eyes, "Once we win, what favors you had to give won't matter…"
It won't matter because I have no intention of letting you remain in MY ministry for long. He thought.
Barty Crouch was as much of a part of the problem as other old traditionalists were. If he could force the man to give up some favors in his stead, then all was well. Because he himself wouldn't need to make them happen once Barty was out of the picture.
It wouldn't even be hard. Not with his son locked up here…
Crouch stared at Sirius for a long moment, weighing his options. "Very well," He said finally, his voice tight. "I will do what I can. But you had better deliver, Lord Black. My future is in your hands now." He did not look pleased about it.
But he'd come this far, Sirius knew he couldn't get off this ride at this point. He needed to go all in.
Sirius nodded, his expression sincere. "I understand, and I will not let you down."
Inwardly, Sirius felt a surge of disdain at even doing this play acting. He had no intention of keeping Crouch in power once he secured the election after all. The man was too rigid, too inflexible to support the kind of progressive changes Sirius intended to implement. But for now, he needed Crouch's influence, and so he played the part of the grateful ally.
Even if it made him want to puke in his mouth a little.
Crouch leaned back in his chair, the tension in his posture easing slightly. "I'll speak to a few key families, see if I can sway them. But remember, Lord Black, politics is a game of give and take. You will owe me for this." He said sternly.
"Of course," Sirius lied smoothly, hiding the flicker of annoyance that crossed his mind. "I understand how these things work."
The room fell into a strained silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Sirius glanced around, taking in the austere surroundings once more. This was a man who lived and breathed order, whose entire existence was built around control and discipline. It was no wonder he was so infuriated by Sirius's more unconventional approach to politics.
And no wonder why Sirius could see no place for him in the new world order.
"I should be going," Sirius said, rising from his chair. "Thank you for your time, Crouch. I'll leave you to your work."
Crouch nodded curtly, already reaching for a stack of papers on his desk. "See yourself out."
As Sirius walked through the house, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at leaving the oppressive atmosphere behind. The meeting had been tense, but it had gone as well as he could have hoped. He had secured Crouch's begrudging support, and that was a step in the right direction.
With Crouch willing to barter favors and influence, it should tilt things in his favor. He'd set up the board the best he could.
It was time to see where it would take him…
The heavy oak door of 12 Grimmauld Place creaked open, and Sirius Black stepped inside, shrugging off his cloak and hanging it on the ancient, iron hook near the entrance. The house, despite his best efforts, still held a shadow of its former gloom. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint tang of something.
Probably dark magic, at least it's last vestiges, as the house was transformed into something new, something better.
He made his way to the sitting room, where Remus was waiting. The room, with its dark paneling and heavy drapes, was illuminated by the warm glow of a fire crackling in the grate. The flickering light was comforting, and gave a nice sense of warmth to the room, giving the space an almost homey feel - so unlike how the place had been just a few months ago. Remus sat in one of the high-backed armchairs, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his lined face.
He'd started looking better, now that he'd had time with Harry, but old scars still healed slowly.
"Sirius," Remus greeted, his voice warm but tinged with the weariness that seemed to follow him like a shadow.
He still didn't agree with much of what Sirius did, but accepted it anyway, happy in the knowledge he could look after Harry if nothing else.
Once the election was won, he would look after him as more than a teacher too. Remus would get to help raise Harry, and for that, he would not move against Sirius no matter how much he disapproved of the darkness inherent in politics.
Sirius smiled, a genuine expression that seemed to brighten the room. After all the bullshite, it was honestly refreshing to just talk with Remus at this point. "Remus," He replied jovially, moving to the sideboard where a decanter of firewhisky awaited. He poured himself a generous measure and joined his old/new friend by the fire. The chair creaked under his weight as he settled into it, the familiarity of the moment bringing a sense of comfort.
His memories were a jumble at the best of times, but he did have fond memories of just sitting by the fire with friends.
For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the occasional clink of glass as they sipped their drinks. Outside, the wind howled, the British weather rattling even the magically enforced windows and adding to the sense of isolation that Grimmauld Place seemed to exude.
"I've been thinking, Remus," Sirius began, his voice breaking the silence. "About what happens next. Now that the election is almost over and once I get the Minister's seat."
Remus raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. "You've certainly got your work cut out for you. Changing the Ministry is no small feat." He acknowledged, his expression sinking slightly at the topic.
Sirius nodded, swirling the firewhiskey in his glass. "That's true. But there are specific things I want to focus on, things that I think can make a real difference. One of them is the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
Not for Remus, not really.
He just thought it was all handled in the most retarded way possible.
Remus's expression turned wary, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "What about it?"
Sirius leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I want to overhaul it. Make it something that actually helps magical creatures rather than just regulating and controlling them. And I was wondering if you might want to be involved."
Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Sirius, you know how I feel about the Ministry. And besides, my priority is Harry. He needs someone to be there for him, to guide him. I can't split my focus like that." He sounded almost pleading.
Willing Sirius to understand, they'd had similar discussions before, Sirius gently prodding him, but now was not the time for gentleness.
Sirius nodded, understanding but undeterred. "I get that, Remus. I do. But hear me out. I'm not just talking about a regular Ministry job. I have a specific idea in mind, something that could make a real difference for werewolves and other marginalized magical beings."
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I want to set up werewolf sanctuaries. Whole forests and villages where werewolves can live without fear of persecution, where they can work and contribute to magical society. Imagine it, Remus - fields and greenhouses where werewolves can grow magical plants, harvest ingredients for potions, and produce goods that benefit everyone."
It would allow them to not only make a living, but have a positive use for the wizarding world. It was easy to hate someone who was basically destitute and homeless as all werewolves were doomed to become in the magical world. It was a lot harder to hate people making plenty of galleons, and more importantly making you lots of galleons.
Not only plants, but magical animals could be harvested by the sturdy werewolves. Even the muggle werewolves that survived the change would be able to help.
Remus looked skeptical, but there was a glimmer of interest in his eyes. "And how exactly do you see this working?"
Sirius leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "We'd start by acquiring land in remote areas, places where the transformations wouldn't pose a risk to others. We'd build secure, comfortable housing and provide access to Wolfsbane Potion, so the transformations can be managed safely - with the profit we earn back in taxes it's manageable. The residents would work the land, growing magical plants and herbs that are in high demand. We'd sell these products to potion makers, apothecaries, and other magical businesses. The profits would go back into maintaining and expanding the sanctuaries, and the werewolves would earn a decent wage, gaining financial independence and security."
And they could ward such areas too… Keeping them safe, as well as making it so they couldn't leave around the full moon. Ensuring there would be no more "accidents.'
Remus's eyes widened slightly, a spark of hope flickering to life. "It sounds… idealistic. But you know as well as I do that prejudice runs deep. Do you really think you can change people's minds?"
Sirius's gaze was unwavering. "I know it won't be easy. But I believe it can be done. If we show the magical community that werewolves can contribute positively, that they can be an asset rather than a threat, we can start to break down those barriers. And it's not just about werewolves. The sanctuaries could be a model for integrating other magical beings who are marginalized - centaurs, goblins, even house-elves who want to be free."
Although he seriously doubted the last one would ever happen. And the Goblins were little shits too, so fuck that being likely for them to accept. They had their caves, and tunnels, he'd be unlikely to win them over.
But it was worth a try, eventually.
He needed a success story before he touched any of that. And werewolves would be easy. Because most of them were actually harmless the rest of the time.
And it would make it easier to hunt down the actual offenders.
Remus was silent for a long moment, his expression pensive. He took a sip of his drink, staring into the fire as if seeking answers in the dancing flames. "It's a noble idea, Sirius. But why me? Why do you want me to be involved?"
Sirius smiled, a warm, genuine expression that softened his features. "Because I trust you, Remus. Because you understand what it's like to live on the fringes of society, to be judged for something you can't control. And because I know you care. You care about making a difference, about helping others. You'd be perfect for this."
I don't trust you one hundred percent… Not yet. He thought, having white lied a little. But he trusted him enough.
Remus looked down at his glass, his fingers tracing the rim. "I don't know, Sirius. It sounds like a lot of responsibility. And like I said, Harry - "
"I know," Sirius interrupted gently. "And I'm not asking you to abandon Harry. This is something we can build over time. You can be as involved as you want, as much as your time with Harry allows. But having your support, your guidance, would mean a lot. Not just to me, but to everyone this project could help."
The room fell silent again, the weight of Sirius's words hanging in the air. Remus's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The idea of a sanctuary, a safe haven for werewolves, was something he had never dared to dream of. It was almost too good to be true.
"Sirius," Remus began slowly, choosing his words with care, "I don't want to give you false hope. The prejudice, the fear - it runs so deep. I've seen it my whole life. Even with the best intentions, changing that won't happen overnight."
Sirius nodded, his expression serious. "I know. But we have to start somewhere. And I can't think of anyone better to help me start than you."
Remus took another sip of his firewhisky, the warmth of the liquid spreading through him, loosening the tight knot of anxiety in his chest. "Alright," he said finally, his voice steady. "I'll help. But my main focus will be Harry. I want to make sure he has the support and guidance he needs. If I can balance that with helping you, then I'll do what I can."
Sirius's face lit up with a smile, a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Remus. That's all I can ask. Together, we can make a real difference. For Harry, and for so many others."
He'd be using Harry's name like that often in the future. Just like he'd used the Lily Potter foundation, like he'd use Remus to gather the werewolves. It was all altruism…
But if he managed to fix things, make the world a better place, did it really matter if he was faking some of the emotions on the way?
The fire crackled and popped, filling the room with its warmth and light. The two old/new friends sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
As the evening wore on, Sirius began to outline more of his plans, his vision for the werewolf sanctuaries becoming clearer with each word. "We'd need to start by identifying suitable locations," He said, his eyes bright with pleasure of a plan coming together. "Places that are remote enough to ensure safety during full moons, but also accessible enough to allow for trade and interaction with the broader magical community."
Remus nodded, his interest piqued despite himself. "And what about funding? Setting up something like this won't be cheap."
Sirius's smile widened. "That's where being Minister comes in handy. I plan to redirect some of the Ministry's budget towards this project. And we'll seek donations from private benefactors, businesses, and anyone who believes in what we're trying to do. I think there are enough people out there who want to see change, who would be willing to support something like this."
He knew he could get Albus onboard, as distasteful as it was to continue to lean on him. The man himself wasn't wealthy, but he had many friends who were. Flamel would be one…
Although that was likely wishful thinking.
"And the residents?" Remus asked. "How do you plan to recruit werewolves to live and work in these sanctuaries?"
"Word of mouth, at first," Sirius replied. "We'll reach out through the werewolf network through you, let people know there's a safe place for them. We'll offer security, decent pay, and most importantly, respect. Once we have a few success stories, I think more will come."
Once things got going, a sanctuary capable of producing magical reagents consistently would only be a boon to the magical community and his tax coffers.
It would pay back all the flack he'd face for the first few months of the program. He'd have to spin it differently to each group. A way to gather all the werewolves in one place for quick elimination in case of issues - would probably be how he'd have to lay it out to the dark faction.
Remus leaned back in his chair, contemplating the enormity of the task ahead. "It's ambitious, Sirius. But if anyone can pull it off, it's you."
Sirius chuckled, a hint of his old mischief returning. "I'll take that as a compliment. But it's going to take all of us, Remus. You, me, and everyone who believes in this cause."
They continued to talk long into the night, the fire burning low as they discussed the logistics, the challenges, and the potential rewards of the werewolf sanctuaries.
By the time they finally called it a night, the first light of dawn was creeping through the heavy drapes. Sirius felt a sense of satisfaction, a feeling that they were on the verge of something truly transformative.
The werewolf sanctuary would be his first step to showing everyone the world could be changed.
And his first proof of concept.
Showing that he could navigate the Wizengamot and the Ministry and get it passed.
Success bred more success.
And wizards and witches more than any breed of creature were drawn to people who succeeded at the impossible.
He would make it happen!
He only needed to win first…
The ancient, ornate chamber of the Wizengamot was filled with an air of anticipation and tension as its members assembled for the pivotal vote. The walls, lined with dark, polished wood were specifically adorned with tapestries depicting significant moments in magical history for this occasion only, the room seemed to pulse with the energy of the countless debates and decisions made within these halls.
The election wasn't for another week. But here, today. Here was when the Minister was truly elected.
The popular vote was a formality, a show for the masses. Although it was unusual for the two to be completely separate, as there usually wasn't such a sharp divide between the two as there was this time.
Sirius stood at the edge of the chamber, his gaze sweeping over the gathered members. Each witch and wizard present was robed in deep purple, their silver insignias glinting in the torchlight. The room was arranged in a semi-circular fashion, with tiers of seats rising from the central floor, where the presiding officer stood ready to oversee the proceedings. This wasn't the main Wizengamot chambers, this was one specifically used for things like this.
Tiberius Ogden was the one who held the role to administer the vote today. It was ceremonial, so having one of Albus' allies as the master of ceremonies wouldn't give him any benefits. But he chose to see it as a good portent
Sirius's heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and determination. The weight of the Black family legacy, the hopes of his supporters, and the ambitions he harbored for the future all pressed heavily upon him. This was the moment that would decide his fate, the culmination of months of intense campaigning, strategic maneuvering, and relentless effort.
If it all fell apart here, just at the cusp of things. He wasn't sure what he'd do. But it wouldn't be pretty.
He'd ingested his all into this, and he wasn't sure he had anything else to live for if he didn't succeed.
His family were… Not enough. He only felt anything at all for a few of them, even Remus was only now starting to become an actual friend. He didn't have enough connections to hold himself steady if this failed. His ambitions were everything.
The murmurs of conversation hushed as Ogden raised his wand hand, calling the assembly to order. His calm, authoritative presence filled the room, commanding respect from even the most rowdy of the Wizengamot members. "Today, we gather to cast our votes for the next Minister of Magic," He announced, his voice resonating with a measured gravity. "The candidates are Cornelius Fudge and Lord Sirius Black. May we conduct ourselves with the decorum and integrity befitting this esteemed body." He stated solemnly.
As Ogdens words echoed through the chamber, Sirius felt a surge of resolve. He had faced countless challenges to reach this point, and now he stood on the brink of achieving his goal. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering to the rows of seated members, each one holding the power to sway the outcome.
He'd done almost everything he could. He had fought hard to overcome the general idiocy of purebloods, and he'd reached this goal without having to give away countless favors and bribes that would invalidate his entire tenure.
He just hoped it was enough in the end.
The voting process began, each member stepping forward to cast their vote in a magically sealed urn, sliding their wand inside, completely theatrical, it served no other purpose than to turn red for one candidate ( Fudge) or Blue for the other (Him), well that and confirming the caster is who they said they are. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable sense of suspense, every movement scrutinized, every expression analyzed. Sirius watched intently, his mind racing with thoughts of who might support him and who might not.
He cast his own vote quick enough, the magical world not having any issues with a candidate voting for themselves. One advantage he had over Fudge, as he held no vote.
As the urn began to glow with blue lights, Sirius's thoughts drifted to the alliances he had forged, the promises he had made, and the strategies he had employed. He couldn't help but worry about the undecided votes, the neutrals who had held their positions close to their chests, their intentions inscrutable. His gaze shifted to Isabella Zabini, seated among the neutrals, her expression enigmatic. She had the power to sway the vote, and her decision could make or break his chances.
He still didn't know what way she'd lean in the end. And it bothered him.
Minutes felt like hours as the voting continued, each member's step echoing in the silence. Sirius's mind raced with a mix of hope and dread. He thought of Narcissa's words, the arguments and discussions that had led to this point, and the pressure he had faced from his family. He couldn't afford to fail, not now, not after everything.
Finally, they came towards the end, everyone having kept close count, the Urn shining with the amount of blue and red lights it held. The chamber was silent, the tension almost unbearable. Sirius's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Tiberius Ogden carefully examine each vote, his expression unreadable.
He knew the count himself already. So did everyone else. They all stated at the urn, in consternation. All but one person.
Ogden's voice rang out, clear and steady, as he announced, "Sirius Black leads Cornelius Fudge by one vote, there is one votee still missing…"
A collective gasp rippled through the chamber. The result sent shockwaves through the assembled members as they all knew who was left, their whispers and murmurs growing louder. Sirius felt a cold knot of fear settle in his stomach. One vote in the lead in this case meant uncertainty, and uncertainty was dangerous.
Because the last vote… The last vote held more than one house. Had more than one vote. Whichever candidate received the vote… Would win.
Ogden raised his hand again, calling for silence. "There is one vote remaining," He announced, his gaze sweeping over the assembly. "Lady Zabini."
Sirius's eyes locked onto Isabella as she rose from her seat, her movements graceful and deliberate. She held the final vote, the power to decide the outcome, and the weight of that responsibility was evident in her demeanor. She moved to the center of the chamber, all eyes on her, and paused, her gaze meeting Sirius's.
At that moment, time seemed to stretch, the air heavy with anticipation. Sirius's heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts a whirlwind of hope and fear. Isabella held his fate in her hands, and he could only wait, his breath caught in his throat, for her decision.
He'd refused her advances, gone so far as to practically beg for her help, but refusing her only conditions.
Had it been enough? Did she want to punish him for his temerity to turn her down?
His life, his ambitions, the magical world's future. It all hung on this one moment.
On the choice of the Black Widow.
Isabella's lips curved into a coy smile, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She held Sirius's gaze for a heartbeat longer, then turned to Ogden, her voice clear and unwavering as she put her wand in the urn. "I cast my vote for Sirius Black!"
A collective exhale swept through the chamber, the tension breaking like a wave. Sirius felt a rush of elation, his heart soaring with relief and triumph. He had done it.
He was the new Minister of Magic.
Dumbledore was the first to stand up and clap, breaking decorum, but no one seems willing to challenge it, the chambers erupting in applause as his allies went wild, and his enemies and detractors politely applauded, already no doubt sharpening their knives for a good fit for his back.
The look on Bagnold's face though, the sheer shock and fear, was enough to bring joy to his heart. Take that you absolutely twat!
The sound of applause reverberated off the walls. Sirius stood tall, his eyes shining with pride and determination. He had achieved his goal, and now, the real work would begin. The future of the magical world was in his hands, and he was ready to shape it, one step at a time.
His eyes met Isabella's.
The smug look on her told him enough, not that he didn't already know it.
You owe me.
Author's note:
So after like 100k he's finally Minister of Magic.
So now the real story can begin, working on reshaping the ministry and the magical world.
Yeah, yeah, I know, my pacing is too slow. It is the evil I can never seem to defeat.
Also get to finally see some of what Sirius would want to change or add to the Magical world, his ideas for werewolf sanctuary defeating the lycanthropy plague and the way people treat anyone infected.
A lot of things are going on in the background here, Sirius will definitely have an interesting time ahead of him.
Here we go, another Mischief chapter, didn't win on Patron, I just had time since it was the next on the list of the stories without an update lately.
Hopefully it's enjoyable.
The time in the Ministry begins!
Although the major reshuffles and such won't be seen until next chapter - this one has the first major promotion that will vastly change canon for some people.
As always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her pool.
Ministry of Magic, day after the official election.
Sirius stood in the center of his new office, surveying the space with a critical eye. The room was grand, as befitting the office of the Minister of Magic, yet he had managed to imbue it with a subtle elegance that spoke more to his own tastes than to the ostentatious displays of wealth that might have been expected of him.
Each Minister brought their own flair, and it was expected to such a degree that he'd only invite headaches if he went too austere in the decorations. Playing as a man more interested in getting the job done might work with the public, but in the Ministry and with the noble Lords - he'd just make himself look pathetic and subservient if he went that route.
The walls were paneled in rich, dark wood. There were no portraits of famous wizards or family crests, as might have been typical. Instead, Sirius had chosen to hang a few carefully selected pieces of magical artwork - one depicting a serene forest glade, another showing the quiet, glassy surface of a lake under the moonlight, and a third that shifted between various constellations, a subtle nod to his own name. All hideously expensive, made by long dead artists, hence acceptable to decorate his office.
His desk, a massive structure of polished Elderwood, dominated the room without overwhelming it. The surface was mostly clear, save for a few neatly stacked parchments, a set of intricately carved quills, and a single silver inkpot. The chair behind it was upholstered in deep green leather - neither his Gryffindor red nor Slytherin green, but a dark green so dark it was almost black, a more neutral, rich color that still hinted at things.
It was a chair that invited comfort but also commanded respect. The other furniture in the room followed this same philosophy, two low armchairs of similar design faced the desk, with a small table between them that held a delicate crystal decanter and matching glasses. A larger seating area was arranged near the fireplace, which crackled with a low, steady fire.
The large, arched window behind the desk that he'd ordered put in, provided a spectacular view. It had been enchanted to show Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest as they were at this very moment. Sirius found a particular comfort in this - an immediate connection to the place that had shaped so much of who the man he'd been was. The castle stood tall and proud in the distance, its spires reaching into the sky, while the forest loomed darkly to one side, its secrets hidden in the shadows of its ancient trees.
The scene changed subtly as the day progressed, the light would shift, the clouds would move, and if one watched long enough, they might even catch a glimpse of students moving about the grounds or a creature darting through the forest. The magic that made this possible was complex, but it was a luxury Sirius allowed himself, a reminder of the simpler, if not always safer, days of his youth - the days mostly stolen from him by the Dementors.
The floor was covered in a thick, dark rug with a subtle, swirling pattern - neither explicitly magical nor particularly mundane. It was the kind of detail that might go unnoticed at first, but on closer inspection, it was clear that the design was not merely decorative. It was, in fact, a complex array of protective runes, woven into the rug itself, a precaution that only the most observant might recognize. Sirius had always believed in a balance of safety and subtlety - too much of either was as good as an invitation for trouble.
The entire room was designed with the concept of balance in mind. It was neither too dark nor too light, neither too modern nor too traditional, neither too magical nor too muggle. It was a space where one might feel at ease, regardless of their background or beliefs. That was important to Sirius. He knew that as Minister of Magic, his office needed to be a place where witches and wizards of all kinds could feel comfortable, whether they were allies or adversaries, light or dark, or somewhere in between.
He was navigating a very treacherous path that necessitated allying with all sides at different points. So the appearance of a more neutral bent only helped him. Wizards were prone to take in and react to such minute details unconsciously, Hogwarts having primed them.
So he'd created an office where whether you were a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, the office decoration and colors would not cause offense. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs thankfully weren't an issue in that way.
And of course, the rug wasn't the only thing that was warded or trapped to all hell and back. It was just the one a more discerning eye might catch, and think themselves smug for realizing, not noticing the myriad of other traps, ward tripwires or dangerous artifacts.
A shelf on his right side, just off the desk and window held some books to give it a purpose of being there - and a myriad of cute little trinkets, holding the appearance of simple gifts. They were more like Dumbledore's little coterie of gadgets - Black family style.
He'd gotten them out of the deepest recesses of the family vault, some of them were pretty nasty. But they all held very useful enchantments, including one that detected all lies spoken in this office, he'd tied it to his ring, which would vibrate every time someone told him a lie.
His favorite however was probably the voice controlled artifact that was linked with the wards for a circular spot in the ceiling right above the seating area in front of his desk. Chimaera acid was a horrible surprise for anyone trying something on him - and having that fall down by just one word out of his mouth - would ruin an assassin's day - for the few seconds before they were a puddle.
This all had taken only one day to set up, Merlin he loved magic somedays…
As he took a final look around, the door to the office opened quietly, and his secretary, a young witch named Evelyn Hastings, stepped inside. She was efficient, with a quiet demeanor that belied her sharp mind. Sirius had chosen her for precisely those qualities - she was unassuming, but she missed nothing.
She was also a pureblood, appeasing the snobs, while from a progressive minor family, appeasing the muggle lovers. The amount of thought I need to expend just for a simple thing like hiring a secretary is ridiculous…
"Minister, Madam Bones and Auror Moody are here for your first appointment," Evelyn said, her tone respectful but not overly formal. Sirius appreciated that too. He was not one for excessive deference.
Well… Not from innocent Ministry workers anyway. There was some enjoyment in making rich overly important purebloods realize they were beneath you.
"Thank you, Evelyn. Send them in, please," Sirius replied, moving around to stand behind his desk. He took a moment to steady himself. It was his first official meeting as Minister. Not surprisingly, he'd chosen to begin with the two people he could expect above all to do their jobs no matter what any side said. Including him.
The door opened again, and Amelia Bones entered first, followed closely by Alastor Moody. Amelia was as composed as ever, unlikely to treat him much differently then she had when he'd 'just' been Lord Black.
Something he knew he'd come to appreciate soon, once all the brownnosers began trying to compete over who could crawl up his ass the furthest.
Moody was as grizzled and battle-worn as ever, looking like he just came from a spot of trench warfare. His magical eye whirred and clicked quietly as it scanned the room, taking in every detail, from the enchanted window to the runes in the rug - to the artifacts on the shelf.
It said something about his preparations that Moody only let out a low grunt, and didn't offer any complaints about his security. It really wasn't paranoia when everyone really was out to get you.
He'd honestly be surprised if it took over a month before his first assassination attempt.
"Amelia my sweetheart, Mad-Eye, my brother from another mother, welcome," Sirius said, inclining his head slightly in greeting. "Please, have a seat." The wide grin on his face and the wink he sent at them both detracted from the serious setting, setting them all at ease.
Amelia moved to one of the armchairs in front of the desk, settling herself with a small, approving nod, even as she rolled her eyes almost imperceptibly at Sirius's means of addressing her. Moody, after a moment of further scrutiny, took the other chair, after poking it thrice with his wand.
Once they were seated, Evelyn appeared again with a tray of refreshments - a pot of tea, a carafe of coffee, and a selection of biscuits. She placed it on the small table between them and quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Moody immediately hit everything with a bevy of detection charms.
"Help yourselves," Sirius offered, gesturing to the tray. "I thought we might have a bit of refreshment before we get started." He made a face as Moody continued to send charm after charm at the tray, "If Moody here finds it acceptable…"
Amelia nodded in thanks and poured herself a cup of tea, while Moody, finally finished and apparently satisfied, opted for the coffee. At their looks, he grunted, "If anyone poisoned anything beyond my charms ability to detect, they would have done it to the tea." He said succinctly, fully serious.
Sirius poured himself a cup of tea as well, taking a moment to enjoy the familiar ritual, ignoring Moody. He had come to find comfort in the simple act of making tea - a small anchor of normalcy in the often chaotic world he inhabited. Not that Kreacher allowed him to do so often.
Of course, Kreacher still served him here at the Ministry too, Sirius wasn't about to trust Ministry elves who weren't tied to him specifically.
For a few moments, they sat in a companionable silence, each of them sipping their drinks and gathering their thoughts. Sirius took the opportunity to observe his guests more closely. Amelia Bones was, as always, impeccably composed. Her hair, which was graying at the temples, was pulled back into a neat bun, and she appeared in a somewhat good mood. She was a formidable witch, one who commanded respect both for her intellect and her integrity - a very rare thing in the Ministry, a very valuable thing. Sirius knew that she would be a valuable ally going forward, but also one who would not hesitate to challenge him if she thought it necessary.
Which was good, because he knew himself enough to realize that he sometimes would cross the line if his eyes were too focused on the target to see the consequences of everything around him.
Moody, on the other hand, was a different sort of ally. His loyalty was more questionable, due to his ties to Dumbledore, and his methods were often unorthodox, to say the least. Sirius respected Moody's tenacity and his unyielding commitment to the fight against dark magic, but he also knew that Moody's distrustful nature could be a double-edged sword.
He could be very very useful, but he could also be an anchor to his administration if he went out of bounds too much.
"So," Sirius began, setting his cup down on the desk, "Thank you both for coming. I know it's early days yet, but I wanted to meet with you to discuss our strategy moving forward. There's a lot to be done, and I want to make sure we're all on the same page."
Amelia put her cup of tea down, eyes intent on him, "The promised budget increase?" She asked promptly.
Sirius nodded, "It is yours, it will take a few weeks to reorganize everything, but start planning out a recruitment drive and a reorganization of the DMLE, we'll shake loose some more galleons by cutting out the chaff."
Moody grinned, the look frightening on his scarred face, "You'll set off fireworks with that, none of the families that paid for these tossers to get in will be happy."
Amelia gave him a look, eye tightening under the monocle, "Alastor, we have no proof of that." She cautioned mildly. Notably she also didn't say he was wrong.
Sirius tapped the desk with his lordship ring, "It won't matter, they all voted against me, this is how the game is played, as long as I keep it to that, they'll just take it on the chin and roll with it as one of the costs of doing business with a regime change."
"Lad, there is no way this is all you're planning to do…" Moody said, voice thick with skepticism.
Sirius grinned dangerously, "No, it isn't." Moody's return grin was dark, and viciously satisfied.
"Oh dear…" Amelia sighed, reaching up to adjust her monocle, "I'm not going to have to be the first ever DMLE Director to arrest a sitting Minister, am I?" She asked.
Sirius gave her a wounded look, "You'd arrest me? But we're practically married, you and I?" He said, a hand to his heart. Also, seriously? The first? I refuse to believe no Minister was ever arrested in office!
Amelia picked her cup of tea up again, taking a sip, looking like she wished it was something stronger, before giving him a stern look, "Delusion aside, I notice you also didn't actually answer my question."
Sirius waved her off, "Nothing illegal, my dear Director, in fact, I'm helping you out, I'm taking Moody off your hands!"
Amelia blinked slowly, "Done!" She said, Moody sending her a long look.
"I haven't even told you for what." Sirius said amusedly.
Amelia serenely sipped at her tea, "You're Minister now, no take backs."
Moody scoffed, rolling his normal eye, before stabbing a finger forward towards Sirius, "What nonsense are you signing me up for?"
Sirius grin was shark-like, "A new department, internal revenue. Your job is to audit everyone, Director Moody." His grin widened as both of them visibly blanched, "That's what it will say on the tin, anyway. And you'll do that job too, but it's a cover for you to sniff through the Ministry and identify every spy, malcontent, and corrupt worker in the building."
"You'll have everyone panic. It will be a madhouse, especially when they all find out Alastor is in charge…" Amelia pointed out, looking pinched. At least Sirius was happy to note that she didn't look at all worried that the DMLE would face an audit as well.
Which meant she wasn't skimming off the top.
Not that he'd thought she had anyway, but it was good to get confirmation.
Moody did not seem overly impressed, "I'm an Auror…" He growled out at Sirius, "Not a Merlin damned bureaucrat!"
Sirius waved that off, "You'll have a staff to do all the math for you. Your job, and that of the people you hire - is to be somewhat the secret Auror service. Safeguarding the sanctity of the Ministry's operations." He turned his gaze to Amelia, as Moody chewed on that, a thoughtful frown on his face, "And I want them to panic, because as long as people within and without think that my concern is pinching every knut, they'll focus on cleaning their books and tidying up their expenses - instead of what's really going on."
Amelia narrowed her eyes, "And what exactly are you intending to hide beneath this hunt for galleons?" She asked.
Sirius smiled enigmatically, before completely ignoring her question, turning to Moody, "The Wizengamot has limited oversight of department business, so feel free to draft all rules and regulations for the department of revenue yourself."
Moody's previously grumpy look suddenly turned devious, as Amelia set her cup of tea down with a loud clink, "Minister!" She protested vigorously.
"Hmpfh, fine then lad, to begin with, I want authorization to use veritaserum and to be allowed to obliviate knowledge of interrogations from uncooperative targets." Moody said, looking ready to rattle off a whole list.
Sirius noted the absolutely deadly stare Amelia Bones sent his way, and smiled somewhat awkwardly at Moody, "Within the law only, we still have to be lawful, old chap."
Luckily in this case, British law was bloody well permissible for most actions against anyone not a Pureblood Lord.
Moody would get his authorization, the Ministry would get a full audit. And then…
Sirius would know what he had to work with.
Ministers office, approximately two hours later,
Sirius was in high spirits as he waited for Arthur Weasley to arrive for their meeting. The conversation with Amelia and Moody had gone well, setting a strong foundation for what was to come, and now he was ready for the next step in his plans. He had always liked Arthur - there was something genuine about the man, something decent. But today, it wasn't just Arthur's decency that interested Sirius - it was his utility.
And quite frankly how easily the man could be led, as horrible as it was to say.
He leaned back in his chair, absently running his fingers over the smooth wood of his desk. The enchanted window showed a light drizzle over the grounds of Hogwarts, the gray skies lending a quiet, contemplative mood to the scene. But Sirius felt no such calm within himself. There was a deep, roiling energy in his chest, a feeling of impending action, and he was eager to get started.
It would take weeks simply to work through the Ministry and figure out budgets, redundancies, traitors and corrupt officials. Then the real work could truly begin. However, like any good plan, the groundwork could be laid long ahead of time, and that was the reason for this particular appointment.
The door opened, and Evelyn appeared, her expression as unflappable as the day he hired her. Which was yesterday, so he supposed it was possible she was actually flappable generally and was just having an off day. "Minister, I have Arthur Weasley here to see you."
"Excellent, send him in," Sirius replied, flashing her a grin. He stood up as Arthur entered the room, his smile broadening. This job is going to require way too much smiling for my liking.
Arthur Weasley stepped inside, looking a little harried, as if he wasn't quite sure why he had been summoned to the Minister's office. His robes were, as always, a bit frayed at the edges, but meticulously clean. His thinning red hair was neatly combed, and he clutched a worn briefcase under one arm. Despite his slightly disheveled appearance, there was an air of humility and warmth about him that had always endeared him to his co-workers.
Despite how he'd never had the pull of the top brass of the Ministry, he was well regarded in general throughout every department in the Ministry, and the lower the rank an employee sat on - the more they liked Arthur. Which could be a heady benefit if properly used.
Being a Gryffindor and a Weasley, Arthur had of course never actually used that. But that was fine, Sirius could use him for him, and for himself.
"Arthur! Good to see you!" Sirius called out cheerfully, striding around the desk to greet him with a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
Arthur blinked, clearly a bit taken aback by the warmth of the welcome. "Minister, it's, uh, it's an honor. I wasn't expecting to be called in so soon after you've taken office..." He trailed off awkwardly, unsure of the situation.
"Please, none of that 'Minister' nonsense between us," Sirius said, waving off the formality. "It's Sirius, alright? I've always preferred it that way."
He couldn't get too stuffy with a purebred Gryffindor like Arthur, or he'd always be distant. It was better to remind him they had both been Gryffs, both been in the Order - Bring some familiarity in.
Arthur nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Of course, Sirius. What can I do for you?"
Sirius motioned for Arthur to take a seat in one of the armchairs by the desk. As Arthur settled in, still looking a little unsure, Sirius poured them both a cup of tea from the pot that Evelyn had thoughtfully left behind again. He handed Arthur a cup, then sat down across from him, leaning forward with an eager expression.
"Arthur, I've been thinking a lot about how we're going to move forward with this administration," Sirius began, his tone conversational but carrying a weight that suggested this was more than just idle chatter. "And it's become clear to me that I need someone by my side - someone I can trust, someone who knows the ins and outs of the Ministry, and someone who's respected by everyone. You know who came to mind?"
Maybe a little heavy-handed, but I'm not dealing with the brightest bulb here, for all that he's genuine, he's also painfully naive about some things - or willfully looking away from it.
Arthur shook his head, clearly not following where this was leading, big surprise there... Sirius thought, even as Arthur spoke up, "No, I can't say I do…"
"You, Arthur," Sirius said, grinning broadly. "You're the perfect man for the job. I want you to be my Senior Undersecretary." Be my Dolores Umbridge, Arthur...
Arthur's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to process what Sirius had just said. "Sirius, I… I don't know what to say. Senior Undersecretary? That's… that's a tremendous responsibility. I'm not sure I'm qualified…"
Considering the only qualification seems to be having a brown nose, pretty sure you're vastly overqualified actually, he thought, but didn't say.
"Nonsense!" Sirius cut him off, still smiling but with a sharpness in his tone that brooked no argument. "You've been with the Ministry for years, Arthur. You've helped out in multiple departments despite having your own responsibilities, you've handled sensitive matters, you know how things run better than most. And more than that, you're a good man. People trust you, they listen to you. That's what I need - a man who can bridge the gap between the different factions in the Ministry, someone who can keep things running smoothly."
Someone who everyone knows is a decent man, which means they'll never suspect anything underhanded from that direction. Sirius thought, watching him. Arthur would of course be a spy in a way, even if he wouldn't realize it himself. Dumbledore would invite him for tea every weekend no doubt, subtly pumping him, hence why Arthur would never touch anything truly important.
But having him there was a boon in many ways. The light would be happy, they'd trust him and through that, they'd trust Sirius more just for his presence there. The dark and neutrals, they'd think they had his measure, and would attempt to bypass him, allowing Sirius to use Arthur unknowingly to great effect as they'd never suspect Arthur Weasley of having anything to do with anything nefarious.
Of course the challenge would be to use him in a way that Arthur himself had no idea he had anything to do with anything nefarious.
Arthur looked down at his tea, clearly overwhelmed. "But Sirius, I've always worked in more… Modest positions. I've never had that kind of authority. I'm not sure I'm cut out for it."
Sirius stood up and walked around the desk, laying a hand on Arthur's arm in a gesture of reassurance. "Arthur, you're exactly who we need. Modesty isn't a weakness - it's a strength. It means you'll approach the job with humility, with a sense of responsibility. That's rare in our world, and it's exactly what we need right now." The fact I have to beat you over the head to get you to accept really shows how much of a unicorn you are…
If the magical world had more Arthur Weasley's, they wouldn't need Sirius to come in and violently rip it up by the roots and replant it into something worth keeping.
Arthur still looked uncertain, but Sirius could see the idea beginning to take root in his mind. He pressed on, his voice full of encouragement. "Think about what this would mean for your family, Arthur. The salary, the benefits… You and Molly wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. You could provide for your children in ways you've always wanted to. And the respect you'd earn - it's more than deserved."
Arthur looked up, his expression softening as he thought of Molly and their children. "I… I don't know what to say, Sirius. This is… It's an incredible offer."
"It's the right offer," Sirius said firmly, going back to his seat, leaning back with a satisfied smile. "You've done so much for the Ministry over the years, Arthur. It's high time someone recognized that. And as Senior Undersecretary, you'll have the chance to really make a difference. We can do great things together."
He met his gaze intently, "Let's make Magical Britain great again, Arthur."
Arthur was silent for a long moment, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at Sirius, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and lingering doubt. "If… If you really believe I'm the right man for the job… Then I accept. I'll do my best, Sirius. I won't let you down."
Sirius's smile widened, it was so nice when things went as planned. "I know you won't, Arthur. I have every confidence in you. You're going to be brilliant." He effused warmly.
With Arthur closer to him, Dumbledore might not even completely lose his crackers once he took Harry from the Dursleys. He could probably arrange Weasley playdates that the old man could gatecrash to inspect his little savior to ensure Sirius hadn't corrupted the boy.
Politically, things could get dicey if Dumbledore protested too much, but with the Weasley's tied in - he might choose to keep playing the long game, his favorite game.
At least Sirius hoped that would be a secondary effect of this hire.
Arthur nodded, still looking a little dazed by the whirlwind of the conversation. "I'll, uh, I'll need to tell Molly, of course. She'll be… Well, I think she'll be shocked, but proud."
"Of course, of course," Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. "Take the rest of the day to go home, tell her the good news. Give her my best, will you? And the children too. I'm sure they'll be thrilled." Suppose as a side-effect, Percy might grow up a little less of a tool.
It was a shame this was indeed so long before the so-called canon, he would have loved to have been a fly on the wall as Draco Malfoy joined Hogwarts and had to treat the Weasley's nicely because their father was the Undersecretary to the Minister. Oh well, I'll have to settle for building a world where Draco Malfoy will have to be a better person, because the type of people his father and their friends are - will be properly leashed by functioning laws and consequences.
Arthur stood, still clutching his teacup as if it were an anchor. "Thank you, Sirius… Minister! Truly. This… This means the world to me."
Sirius stood as well walking forward again around his desk to seem approachable, clapping Arthur on the shoulder in a friendly, almost brotherly manner. "The pleasure's all mine, Arthur. We're going to make a great team."
As Arthur made his way to the door, still looking a bit shell-shocked, Sirius watched him with a calculating gaze. Arthur was the perfect choice for Senior Undersecretary, not just because he was competent and well-liked, but because he was safe. Trusted by everyone, respected by many, and yet… Utterly harmless. No one would question Sirius's actions with Arthur as his second. No one would suspect the depths to which Sirius was willing to go to achieve his goals.
Sirius's smile faded as Arthur disappeared through the door, and for a moment, his expression was cold, almost ruthless. Dumbledore might not need another spy in the Ministry, but Arthur Weasley would serve his purposes perfectly. He would handle the day-to-day operations, the mundane tasks, the public face of the Ministry. He would make everyone feel at ease, give them a sense of normalcy and stability. Meanwhile, Sirius would be free to work behind the scenes, to maneuver as he saw fit.
Arthur was too good a man to question Sirius's motives, too loyal to ever imagine that he was being used. And that was exactly why Sirius had chosen him. He needed someone who would never suspect, never look too closely at the shadows.
As the door clicked shut behind Arthur, Sirius moved back to his desk, sinking into the dark green leather chair with a sense of satisfaction. Everything was falling into place. Arthur would be a perfect cover, a shield behind which Sirius could operate freely. And in return, Arthur would receive a handsome salary, a prestigious title, and the security he had always longed to provide for his family.
No one could say Sirius wasn't generous. He'd given Arthur everything he could ever want - and in return, he'd take everything he needed.
Sirius's lips curled into a smile, but this time, it wasn't a kind smile. It was a smile of victory, of cold calculation. He had Arthur exactly where he wanted him, and the man could hardly complain. After all, he was about to become one of the most important figures in the Ministry, second only to the Minister himself.
If only because he'd allow the role to take on that much power. Most Ministers didn't like to share. But he'd empower his undersecretary, to allow him to run the mundane boring dross.
Sirius leaned back in his chair, the Hogwarts scene still playing out in the window behind him, the students laughing and going about their day, blissfully unaware of the wheels turning in the world of the adults. The rain had stopped, leaving the grounds fresh and green, a peaceful backdrop to Sirius's increasingly dangerous thoughts.
I'm just setting the stage…
Soon… Soon I'll go to war within my own Ministry…
Then when they're all properly slotted in, doing the work they're supposed to, properly.
Then…
The Wizengamot.
Minister's office, 2 am,
The night had settled deep over the Ministry of Magic, and most of the interior had long since emptied of its usual bustle. The only sounds that filled the corridors now were the soft footfalls of patrolling Aurors and the occasional rustle of papers from the Minister's office, where Sirius still worked tirelessly. He had sent Evelyn home hours ago, telling her to get some rest while he continued to pour over the latest reports and draft plans for the Ministry's future.
When you were planning to change the entire infrastructure of how the Ministry worked, gutting some departments, creating others, moving people around, firing others, hiring new blood. It was extensive work. And due to the risks of it all being undermined if leaked - it had to be done by him.
At least now as Minister, he had a better shot at forcing the Daily Prophet under his aegis. The family that had hidden from him, the ones owning the largest slice of the Prophet pie… They still received Ministry owls.
He'd taken the liberty of drafting several internal memos for different departments across the Ministry. By this time tomorrow, the Briarwood's would find out that all their apparation licenses have sadly expired, also including the portkey license Lord Briarwood held. Their floo access had also been revoked due to discrepancies, something which he'd love to have them come in and talk about…
They'd also accumulated over fifty thousand galleons in fines. That if not contested in person would go through.
Once contested, it would show it was simply all a misfiling about a totally different family of course.
But then they'd be here, within Sirius reach. And he'd get that paper, by hook or by crook.
The enchanted window in his office, showing Hogwarts under the moonlight, was a calming presence as Sirius worked, his brain tiredly chugging along. The stars were bright against the dark sky, and the Forbidden Forest loomed like a shadowy sentinel, full of secrets that seemed to whisper through the glass. It was peaceful yet dark, so fitting for a Black like him.
As he sat alone in the quiet of his office, he found himself relishing the solitude - it had been a long day of meetings. The Ministry was his now, and every move he made was setting the stage for what was to come. The pieces were falling into place, but the game was far from over. And if there was one thing Sirius had learned over the years as an equalizer back when, it was that the most dangerous moves often came when you least expected them.
His quill scratched against the parchment as he finalized a note to Madam Bones regarding funding for additional security measures, a slight frown on his face as he considered the implications of how easily she'd gone along with things so far. He was just about to set the parchment aside when a sharp knock at the door broke the silence, jolting him from his thoughts.
Sirius's head snapped up, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. Who would be visiting the Minister's office at this hour? Especially without an appointment? His Auror guards were supposed to keep this level secure after hours, and the fact that someone had managed to reach his door without prior notice was concerning, to say the least.
Before he could call out, or activate the charm on the door that would allow him to see through it, the door opened slightly, and one of his Auror guards stepped in, his face a mask of professional neutrality but with a hint of unease in his eyes.
"Minister, apologies for the interruption, but… There's a visitor here to see you," The Auror said, clearly uncomfortable. "Lady Isabella Zabini."
Sirius's brows lifted in surprise. Isabella Zabini? The last person he'd expected to show up at this hour. She enjoyed an audience too much to try skulking through shadows.
"Let her in," Sirius said after a moment's pause, though his voice was calm, his mind was already calculating. He would have to deal with this breach in security first thing in the morning. "And send word to your Auror Captain in the morning that we need to tighten up security - no one should be able to just walk in this far, at this time of night."
If it was anyone but Isabella, he'd probably have just had them arrested, but he was well aware he owed her. And that her multiple votes could still quickly screw him in any Wizengamot vote if he refused to play ball.
"Yes, Minister," The Auror replied with a sharp nod, stepping back and opening the door wider to allow Isabella Zabini to glide into the room.
She moved with the grace of a panther, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the light of the enchanted lights and glinting with an almost liquid sheen. Her robes were a deep, velvety black, fitted to her slender yet curvaceous frame, and as she walked, the material whispered against the floor in a way that was almost hypnotic. She carried herself with an air of confidence and mystery, the kind that made men turn their heads without realizing why.
Succubi could take lessons from her on how to present oneself, he thought with wry amusement. He knew what she was doing, and he still couldn't stop admiring her.
"Minister," Isabella purred as she stepped into the office, her voice soft and smooth as silk. She cast a glance back at the Auror, who was still lingering in the doorway, as if daring him to question her presence. "Such diligent guards you have… Though perhaps not as effective as you might hope." She teased, a little smugly.
The Auror immediately closed the door, going back to guarding it from the outside, hopefully there wouldn't be any other late night visitors.
Sirius snorted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he gave her another once-over. There was no denying that Isabella was an exceptional woman - clever, beautiful, and dangerously ambitious. "That much is clear," He said dryly. "But then again, I suppose everyone can agree that you're not easily deterred."
A sly smile curved her lips as she turned back to face him, a spark of amusement in her dark eyes. "A woman has to be exceptional in this world, Sirius. Otherwise, she's just… Ordinary."
"There's never been anything ordinary about you, Isabella," Sirius replied, his voice laced with a hint of weariness. He gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat. I assume you didn't come all this way just to test my security?"
She laughed softly, a musical sound that seemed to fill the room as she slid into the chair, her movements languid and deliberate. Her robe parted slightly as she sat, revealing a long, graceful leg and the shimmer of stockings beneath. She stretched out, splaying herself across the chair in a way that was both seductive and commanding, her gaze never leaving Sirius's.
"You assume correctly," She said, her tone playful but with an edge that hinted at the seriousness beneath. "I came to discuss our… Mutual interests. Specifically, why I chose to cast the deciding vote in your favor to become Minister."
Sirius leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. He had wondered about that. Isabella was a Slytherin through and through - calculating, shrewd, and always playing the long game. She didn't make decisions lightly, especially not ones as significant as this.
And he had continuously rejected her conditions. By any metric, she should have sunk him, hard.
"Indeed," Sirius said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "I've been wondering what made you place your bet on me, Isabella. What do you stand to gain?"
Isabella's smile widened, a flash of teeth as she tilted her head to one side, regarding him with a gaze that was both seductive and predatory. "Oh, Sirius, you know I love a good bet on a stud. And I always bet on the horse I think is going to win."
"But why me?" Sirius pressed, his tone becoming more serious. "You had plenty of other options - lucrative options. You must have a reason for taking this risk."
Because Sirius was never going to give in and marry her, so her main goal in courting his interest was already dead in the water.
She leaned back further in the chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs slowly and drawing his attention to the elegant lines of her body. Her fingers traced the armrest idly, as if she were considering her words carefully. "You intrigue me, Sirius. You're not like the others in this little world of ours. You're unpredictable, and that makes you dangerous… but it also makes you interesting. I like interesting."
"Is that all this is to you? Entertainment?" Sirius asked, his voice hardening slightly. "Because if you're expecting me to dance for your amusement, you might be disappointed."
Isabella laughed again, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, no, Sirius. It's much more than that. I'm throwing down a bet, and I do so love when men owe me. There's nothing quite like the power that comes with being owed a favor… Especially by someone in your position."
Sirius regarded her silently for a moment, weighing her words. He had no illusions about Isabella's motives - she was playing her own game, just as he was playing his. But the fact remained that he did owe her. Without her vote, he wouldn't be sitting in this office right now. And that meant he had to tread carefully.
"Fair enough," Sirius said finally, his tone measured. "I won't deny that I owe you. But I'd caution you not to get too greedy, Isabella. I'm a man who pays his debts, but I don't take kindly to being manipulated."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward, her lips curving into a sultry smile. "Oh, Sirius, I wouldn't dream of manipulating you. I'm merely… Collecting on my investment. And I think you'll find my terms quite reasonable."
He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he gestured for her to continue. "Alright, then. Let's hear it. What's the price of your support?" And you better not say bloody marriage!
Isabella's smile deepened as she settled back into her chair, one hand resting casually on her knee while the other trailed along the armrest. She seemed to consider for a moment, her gaze locked on his with a half-lidded stare that was both alluring and dangerous.
It really should be illegal to be this hot, he thought. Magic must be involved somewhere, because normal women didn't get like this.
"Three dates," She said softly, her voice like honeyed wine. "That's half my price. Just three little evenings together - dinner, perhaps, or something more… Intimate. I'm not picky."
Sirius's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind racing as he considered the implications of her request. Three dates? It was almost too simple, too straightforward. There had to be more to it. Three dates did not tie them together, it was fleeting, something over too quick.
What would she get out of that? Did she think she could break him in three dates? Make him bend the knee?
"And what's the other half of your price?" He asked, his tone dry, though there was a note of curiosity in his voice. Because amongst all of his enemies, allies, and those in-between, Isabella was the only one who managed to constantly have him second guessing everything.
Isabella's eyes glittered with amusement as she giggled, a light, almost girlish sound that seemed out of place in the heavy, serious atmosphere of the office. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, Sirius, a lady must have some secrets. But don't worry - when the time comes, you'll know exactly what I want."
Sirius snorted, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You expect me to help you for a favor I know nothing about? That's a tall order, even for you, Isabella." Or in another word. No.
She tilted her head, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged. "Trust me, Sirius. When the time comes, you'll help plenty… And you'll be glad you did."
That's not ominous at all…
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension in the room thickening as the unspoken power play between them hung in the air. Sirius kept his expression carefully neutral, masking the mix of curiosity and wariness that Isabella's words had stirred in him.
He leaned forward in his chair, studying her with a calculating gaze. "You're asking me to make quite a leap of faith, Isabella. Trust isn't exactly something I give freely." Or at all.
She smirked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward slightly, her posture languid but poised, like a cat waiting to pounce. "It's not trust I'm asking for, Sirius. Just a willingness to keep the door open. And really, what do you have to lose? A few pleasant evenings with an exceptional woman?" Her voice was velvet, smooth and beguiling, with an undertone of challenge.
I dare you, she seemed to say, what are you? Chicken?
Sirius tilted his head, considering her words. He knew better than to take Isabella's request at face value. There was always more to her games, layers of intrigue and deception woven into her every move. But as much as he disliked the idea of being beholden to anyone, he also understood the value of keeping someone like her close. Better to have her where he could see her, and perhaps even use her, than let her slip into the shadows where she could become a threat.
He allowed a small, sardonic smile to tug at the corners of his lips. "Three dates, then. I suppose I can afford that much. But don't think for a moment that I'm blind to what you're doing, Isabella. You're not the only one who likes to keep a few secrets."
Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sirius. In fact, I'd be disappointed if you didn't have a few surprises up your sleeve. That's what makes this so much ~fun."
She shifted in her seat, reclining with the confidence of someone who knew she had won the first round. "But I'm not greedy, Sirius. All I'm asking for is a little… Reciprocity. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. And who knows? Maybe we'll both come out ahead." She licked her lips slowly, smiling.
Sirius regarded her in silence for a moment, weighing his options. She was clearly up to something, but that didn't necessarily mean it was something that would harm him. In fact, if he played his cards right, he might be able to turn this situation to his advantage.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers in front of him. "Alright, Isabella. I'll play along - for now. But understand this - I don't owe anyone anything for long. If you try to push me too far, you'll find that the price for your little wager will be higher than you expected, don't try and hold this against me for too long before you reveal what the rest of my favor is." He warned.
Her smile was slow, sultry, and filled with a promise of something darker. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Sirius. I'll lay myself fully bare before too long…"
She stood up gracefully, her movements fluid and elegant, and smoothed her robes with a casual air of someone used to being in the halls of power. "I'll be in touch about our first… Engagement," She said, her voice light and teasing. "I'm looking forward to it." She touched her cheek with one hand, eyes glittering, "Why I feel like a little schoolgirl on her first date!"
With that, she turned and made her way to the door, her hips swaying slightly as she walked, fully aware of the effect she had on those around her. As she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at him, her eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the office.
"Goodnight, Sirius," She purred, her tone holding a note of promise. "Sweet dreams."
And then she was gone, the door clicking shut softly behind her, only the scent of her perfume remained.
Sirius eyed his artifacts, frowning at their stillness. She hadn't lied, at least not obviously. The things could be fooled if there was enough truth in a lie. But one artifact was glowing, only to his eyes.
With a wave of his wand, the air in the office was sucked out, more pushing in to replace it, throwing his parchments all over the place. But it had been necessary.
According to his artifacts, she was steeped in magic. Blood magic. Her perfume was likely altered with something to sway lesser minds. That was only his guess however. It could be something else, his artifacts didn't specify what, only that it was.
For a moment, Sirius remained seated, staring at the door with a contemplative expression. His mind was already racing, considering the implications of their conversation and what her true motives might be. Isabella Zabini was dangerous - of that he had no doubt. But she was also a valuable ally, at least for the time being. And in this game, he needed all the allies he could get.
But he would be a fool to trust her completely - especially now that he realized her charms weren't entirely unaided. No, trust wasn't part of the equation. He'd play along with her game, but he'd do so on his terms. The three dates she'd requested were a small price to pay to keep her close, to watch her, and to learn what she was really after.
As for the second half of her price - the secret favor she'd hinted at - Sirius wasn't too worried. Not yet, anyway. Whatever it was, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he had more pressing concerns.
And there was always the choice to just say no.
He rose from his chair, stretching his arms above his head to relieve the tension that had settled in his shoulders. The night was late, and despite the unexpected visit, there was still work to be done.
As he sat back down and picked up his quill, his thoughts were already shifting back to his plans, his mind working through the possibilities, the contingencies. He would use Isabella, just as she intended to use him, and when the time came, he'd ensure that it was he who came out on top.
The smile on his lips lingered as he resumed his work, the steady scratch of the quill the only sound in the otherwise silent office. Outside, the magical view of Hogwarts remained peaceful, a contrast to the brewing storm in the world of wizarding politics.
And somewhere in the night, Isabella Zabini was likely smiling too, believing she had just set the stage for something grand.
But Sirius Black had never been one to follow someone else's script. He was writing his own, and in this story, he intended to be the one in control.
The game was on.
There could only be one winner.
Two days later,
Sirius strode purposefully into the grand, imposing halls of Gringotts, flanked by Barty Crouch Sr, who wore a perpetual scowl as though the very air of the place offended him. The goblins, for their part, eyed them both with thinly veiled suspicion, their sharp eyes glinting like the gold they so zealously guarded. The atmosphere was charged, a sense of ancient, simmering tension hanging in the air, as it always did when wizards and goblins met to discuss matters of importance.
Sirius had been forced to push quite hard to get this meeting so quickly. Usually any diplomatic efforts between the Goblin nation and Wizarding Britain could take weeks to just set up the meeting to discuss where the first meeting would take place.
He'd spoiled that by just agreeing to meet at Gringotts. He didn't need a power play of home turf to get ahead, like other, weaker Ministers.
Gringotts was a fortress as much as a bank, its labyrinthine corridors and heavily warded vaults a testament to the goblins' craftsmanship as well as their mistrust of their wizarding clients. Sirius couldn't help but feel that they only harmed themselves with their attitude, even more progressive wizards refusing to back them due to their universal reputation as nasty little blighters.
Barty, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his disdain. "This is absurd," He muttered under his breath, his voice laced with irritation. "We should have summoned them to the Ministry. Making the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of International Cooperation come to them is a disgrace."
Sirius should have taken the Goblin liaison, but they really hated that guy currently, so he'd felt Barty was a good minion for him to play good cop bad cop with.
And he needed to get some use wrung out of the guy before he hung him out to dry. He hadn't forgotten Barty's part in his imprisonment. He'd just delayed the revenge due to practicality.
Sirius smirked, inwardly imagining Barty's comeuppance, though he kept his gaze forward, giving no clue to his compatriot. "Sometimes, Barty, it's better to come to the negotiating table on their terms. Makes them feel like they have the upper hand. Besides, this way we can gauge their reaction more closely." And without ten ministry busybodies trying to poke their overly large noses in.
"Or we can waste our time pandering to a bunch of greedy, arrogant -" Barty's tirade was cut short as they approached a set of ornate double doors, guarded by two goblins who barely reached Sirius' waist but carried themselves with a dangerous air.
The goblins exchanged a glance, then one of them pushed the doors open, revealing a dimly lit conference room beyond. Several goblins were already seated around the table, their expressions a mixture of boredom and disdain. As Sirius and Barty entered, the goblins didn't bother to stand or greet them - they merely stared, as if appraising how much trouble they were about to cause.
"What does the Ministry want this time?" One of the goblins sneered, his voice high-pitched and grating. He was shorter than the others, with sharp, pointed features and a permanent scowl etched into his face. Sirius recognized him as Ragnok, one of the more influential middle manager goblins within Gringotts, known for his particular dislike of wizards.
Not that it was odd for goblins to be that way. Ragnok simply took it to the next level. Including a cold case in the Auror office that had him as a suspect in two different murders of wizards.
So a nice chap to negotiate with.
Sirius smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "We've come to discuss a proposal," He began, his tone smooth and diplomatic. He took a seat at the table, ignoring the goblins' rudeness, and gestured for Barty to do the same. Barty sat down with a huff, clearly unhappy about being here, but Sirius was undeterred.
"We all know that Azkaban is… An institution with a troubled history," Sirius continued, choosing his words carefully. "It's served its purpose, but with the recent issues, it's clear that a change is needed. A new prison - one that is secure, hidden, and capable of handling the most dangerous magical criminals - is what I'm proposing."
The sooner they stopped feeding Dementors, the better. And he'd personally cast the damn Fiendfyre to eradicate that island once they no longer needed it.
The goblins exchanged looks, their eyes narrowing as they listened. Ragnok snorted derisively. "A new prison? And you expect us to care about this, why, exactly?"
Sirius leaned forward slightly, his smile never wavering. "Because I'm offering you the chance to be more than just bankers. You could be the architects and jailers of this new facility, which I propose to be built underground, deep within the earth - where goblin magic is at its strongest."
The goblins' interest was piqued, though they tried to hide it behind their sneers. "Underground, you say?" another goblin, slightly taller and more imposing, spoke up. "And what makes you think we would want to involve ourselves in your affairs? We have no interest in guarding your criminals."
"Ah, but you would be more than mere jailers," Sirius replied smoothly. "The Ministry has always placed limits on goblin magic, through various treaties and laws, restricting your use of wards and enchantments that are your birthright. But I'm willing to negotiate a deal where those restrictions would be loosened - specifically for this new prison… And perhaps your warrens? You would be allowed to set up wards that no wizard can interfere with - the wards that prevent any wizard magic. The Ministry would pay for the upkeep of the prisoners, and you would have full control over their containment." He titled his head slightly, his smile a bit colder, "While following the law of course on their treatment."
The goblins sat up a little straighter, though their expressions remained skeptical. Sirius could see the wheels turning in their minds. He had them hooked on the possibilities, but they were far from reeled in. The goblins were nothing if not shrewd negotiators, and he knew they would push back hard before they even considered agreeing.
Ragnok's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what guarantees do we have that the Ministry wouldn't interfere in our affairs? You wizards have a long history of going back on your word."
"That's why I propose that the goblins who run this prison be entirely separate from those who deal with wizards in any capacity," Sirius said. "No goblin who interacts with the surface world, with wizards, will be involved. The jailers will be those who prefer the depths, who live and work beneath the earth. This way, there's no chance of corruption or undue influence from either side."
At this, the goblins' expressions darkened. They exchanged angry mutters, clearly insulted by the implication that they could be corrupted or swayed. Sirius knew he was treading on thin ice, but he had to drive the point home. They had to believe that this arrangement would be both in their control and beyond reproach.
Ragnok's voice was low and dangerous as he leaned forward. "You dare suggest that we could be corrupted? That our kind could be bought or swayed like common wizards?"
You basically live for gold, don't kid yourselves… Hence why he'd make it more difficult by requiring the isolation of the jail. Most goblins never as much as saw a wizard to begin with, those types would be suitable for the job.
Barty, who had been simmering with barely contained irritation, seized the opportunity to interject. "You lot wouldn't be the first to take a bribe," He said with a sneer. "But make no mistake - this deal is your chance to prove otherwise. Or would you rather we continue using Azkaban, and you can sit here, where the only thing goblins are good for is counting galleons?"
The goblins bristled at Barty's words, several of them looking ready to leap across the table. Sirius shot Barty a warning glance, but the older man merely crossed his arms and glared at the goblins, clearly uninterested in smoothing over the tension.
Sirius quickly stepped in, raising a hand to forestall any further escalation. "Gentlebeings," he said, his tone calm and measured. "Let's not allow emotions to cloud our judgment. The point is that this is an opportunity - a unique one - for your kind to demonstrate your unmatched skills in a new arena. The wards you could place, the enchantments, the security measures - none of it could be replicated by wizard magic. It would be entirely in your hands. And if successful, we can revisit other… Requests. Perhaps even wand rights."
Yeah, no. But it's a nice carrot to dangle…
The prisoners would of course be under Goblin dominion if they went to war again, but the likelihood of that was extremely low. It wasn't well known to the general public, but the goblin nation was essentially broken, pushed under so many magically binding laws and contracts signed during their defeats, that they could no longer win or even attempt to in another rebellion.
Hence why even Voldemort taking over got not a peep from the goblins. Either way, the prisoners would also be criminals, so the risk of being chopped up by goblins in the event of war between nations, was still preferable to using Dementors as prison guards.
At his offer, the room fell silent. The goblins stared at Sirius, a mix of shock and suspicion on their faces. Wand rights had always been a sore point between goblins and wizards - a demand that had been consistently denied, but never fully forgotten. Sirius had dangled a tantalizing carrot in front of them, one that they couldn't ignore, even if they likely knew it would never materialize.
Ragnok's eyes narrowed, his voice cold. "And why should we believe that you would ever follow through on such a promise? Wizards have always kept us from wielding wands, fearing what we might do if we had the same power as you."
Barty scoffed, leaning forward aggressively. "You think we'd just hand you wands and let you have free rein? Don't be ridiculous. This is about the prison. Prove you can deliver, and maybe, just maybe, we'll entertain the thought. But until then, don't get ahead of yourselves."
Unexpectedly helpful there Barty, thank you.
Sirius held up a hand to silence Barty, his smile turning icy as he faced the goblins. "What Barty means is that such discussions would be pointless if we can't even get this project off the ground. Show us what you can do, make this prison the most secure facility in the world, and then we'll talk about other matters. Until then, let's focus on the task at hand."
The goblins muttered among themselves, clearly torn between their outrage and their intrigue. They knew this was an opportunity - one that didn't come around often - but they were too proud to admit it openly. Sirius watched them carefully, reading the subtle shifts in their expressions, the way they glanced at each other, the unspoken communication that passed between them.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ragnok looked up, his expression grudgingly agreeing, though still tinged with suspicion. "We'll need to consult with our superiors," He said slowly, his tone measured. "This is not a decision we can make on our own. We were only sent to listen, to see what nonsense the Ministry wanted to push on us this time. But this… This is different."
Sirius inclined his head, acknowledging their position. "Of course. Take your time. We'll return to the Ministry soon though, so if you can't come to a decision, we'll have to look elsewhere."
The goblins rose from the table, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they were still processing what had just been proposed. Sirius and Barty watched as the goblins filed out of the room, their muttering growing louder as they moved into the hallway. The door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving the two wizards alone in the dimly lit conference room.
Barty was the first to break the silence, his voice dripping with disdain. "Consult with their superiors? What a load of rubbish. They're just trying to drag this out to see if they can squeeze more concessions out of us."
Sirius leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, the strain of holding the delicate balance between placating the goblins and keeping Barty's temper in check. "That may be true," He admitted, his voice calm, "but that's how negotiations work, especially with goblins. They won't make this easy, but we have them hooked."
Barty snorted, clearly unimpressed. "You're too soft on them. We should be dictating terms, not bending over backward to make them feel special."
Sirius shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "This isn't about making them feel special, Barty. It's about giving them something they want - something they can't get anywhere else. We need their cooperation, and they need to feel like they're getting the better end of the deal. It's a game of pride and power, and if we push too hard, they'll walk away."
Barty frowned, still clearly unconvinced. "And what about this nonsense about wand rights? You're not seriously considering giving them that, are you?"
Sirius's expression hardened, the smile fading. "Of course not. But it's a carrot, Barty. Something to keep them interested, to make them think there's more to gain if they play along. The moment they believe they have something to lose, they'll start negotiating in earnest. For now, it's enough to keep them engaged."
Barty leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I still don't like it. Goblins with wands… It's a recipe for disaster."
"Which is why it won't happen," Sirius said firmly. "But they don't need to know that just yet. Let them think it's a possibility. It keeps them at the table, which is where we need them."
The two men lapsed into silence, the weight of the discussion hanging between them. Sirius knew that Barty's reservations were well-founded—goblins with wands could indeed upset the delicate balance of power in the wizarding world. But he also knew that the goblins were too savvy to fall for an empty promise. They would demand something real, something tangible, and Sirius had to be prepared to offer them enough to secure their cooperation without giving away too much.
As the minutes ticked by, the door finally swung open again, and the goblins returned, this time accompanied by a taller, older goblin who exuded an air of authority. His skin was more weathered, his eyes sharper and more calculating. Sirius immediately recognized him as Gringotts' Chief Director, Thurnok, a goblin known for his ruthless efficiency and shrewd bargaining skills.
He'd also ruled the goblin nation ever since tearing the head off the goblin who'd failed in the last rebellion, and had signed the treaty that effectively neutered them for eternity.
Thurnok took his seat at the head of the table, his eyes flicking between Sirius and Barty before settling on Sirius with a piercing gaze. "Minister Black," He said in a voice that was surprisingly deep and resonant for his stature. "I have been briefed on your proposal. I must admit, it is… Intriguing, if it's true."
Sirius inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the words, but he knew better than to relax. Thurnok wasn't the type to be easily swayed by flattery or vague promises. He would want specifics, and he would push hard for every advantage.
"I'm glad you think so, Chief Director," Sirius replied smoothly. "This project has the potential to benefit both our communities in ways that go beyond mere gold. It could redefine our relationship, establishing a new level of cooperation and mutual respect."
Well it could, but he found it unlikely. Really, he just wanted a nice safe place to stash criminals, and the goblins were his best bet.
Thurnok's expression remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with interest. "And what, exactly, are you proposing? We've heard the outline, but the details… Those are what concern us."
Sirius nodded, expecting the question. "As I mentioned, the new prison would be built deep underground, in a location of your choosing. The goblins would be responsible for the construction and maintenance of the facility, as well as the imprisonment of the inmates. The Ministry would cover all costs, and in return, the goblins would have full autonomy over the prison's operations, within the bounds of our agreement and following wizarding law for the treatment of inmates."
Thurnok steepled his fingers, his gaze never leaving Sirius's. "And what safeguards would be in place to ensure that the Ministry doesn't interfere in our affairs? We have long memories, Minister. We remember all too well how wizards have reneged on their promises in the past."
"The wards," Sirius answered without hesitation. "The wards around the prison would be crafted by goblins, using goblin magic. No wizard could alter or break them. This would ensure that the prison remains under goblin control, without the possibility of interference from the Ministry. Additionally, the goblins assigned to the prison would be those who do not interact with the wizarding world, further ensuring that there is no conflict of interest."
They'd have to have clauses that allowed for the odd inspection of course, to ensure laws were followed and prisoners were not mistreated. Penalty clauses for both sides not doing their parts - something the goblin nation should be willing to sign, as they only ever got contracts with penalty clauses on their side of the field.
Thurnok considered this, his eyes narrowing as he weighed the proposal. "And what of the prisoners themselves? What assurances do we have that we would not pay if one of them dies on his own without our hand being involved, or what assurances do we have that the Ministry would not attempt to interfere with their sentences?"
"The prison would be designed to mitigate some of that, house elves could be utilized to ensure they are always fed and watered," Sirius replied confidently. "With your expertise in underground fortifications and wards, I have no doubt that it will be the most secure facility in the world either way so safety should be guaranteed. As for interference, the terms of the agreement would be legally binding, with severe penalties for any breach by the Ministry, or you. We have no interest in jeopardizing such an important partnership."
For Azkaban's destruction he was willing to go pretty far. It would be tough to get it through the Wizengamot, but if he could frame it properly, he should get away with it. No one really wanted to go to the Dementors after all.
The goblins muttered among themselves, their interest clearly piqued, but Thurnok's gaze remained sharp, scrutinizing Sirius for any sign of deception. "This is a bold proposal, Minister. But there is one more matter that must be addressed."
Sirius tensed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. He had been expecting this. "And that is?"
"Wand rights," Thurnok said, his voice firm. "If we are to undertake this task, to build and maintain a prison that serves both our peoples, then we must be granted the right to carry wands. This is non-negotiable."
Barty's face darkened immediately, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Sirius cut him off with a raised hand. He leaned forward, his gaze locking with Thurnok's. "Chief Director, we are asking you to do something that has never been done before. If you succeed - if you can build this prison, secure it, and maintain it without fail - then we can revisit the matter of wand rights. But until then, it would be premature to make such a promise. Let's focus on the task at hand, and see where it leads us."
Thurnok's eyes narrowed, his gaze turning cold. "You ask much of us, Minister. And you offer little in return."
Sirius smiled faintly, a cold, calculated smile. "I offer the opportunity to prove your worth, to show the wizarding world what goblin magic can truly achieve. And I offer the chance to lay the groundwork for something greater - something that could change our relationship for the better. But that future depends on the success of this project. If you can deliver, then we can talk about wand rights and more. But until then, let's take it one step at a time."
Was it nice? Pushing them on this, knowing he would never allow them to begin another rebellion by setting them free? No, but he wasn't nice. This was necessary.
The room fell silent as Thurnok considered Sirius's words, his gaze never wavering. The goblins around him watched with bated breath, waiting for their leader's decision. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Thurnok inclined his head slightly, a gesture of reluctant acceptance.
"Very well, Minister Black," Thurnok said, his voice carefully controlled. "We will consider your proposal, and we will discuss the matter further. But know this - we will not be swayed by empty promises. If we agree to this, we expect results. And if we do not receive what we are owed, the consequences will be severe."
Empty threats, if you accept, you'll be bound, like we will, to see it through. But he could understand posturing in front of your minions.
Sirius met his gaze evenly, his expression unflinching. "You have my word, Chief Director. We will do this right, or not at all." Oscar goes to…
Thurnok rose from his seat, and the other goblins followed suit. "We will contact you with our decision," he said, his tone curt. "Until then, Minister, I bid you good day."
With that, the goblins filed out of the room, leaving Sirius and Barty alone once more. As the door closed behind them, Barty let out a long, frustrated sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.
"They're going to bleed us dry with demands, Minister," He muttered, rubbing his temples. "And if we give them an inch, they'll take a mile."
"Perhaps," Sirius replied quietly, still staring at the door. "But if we pull this off, Barty, we'll have secured something no one else has managed before. A prison that even the most dangerous wizards can't escape from - and without the soul sucking demons involved. And if that means dealing with the goblins on their terms, then so be it."
Barty looked at Sirius, his expression still doubtful, but there was a hint of grudging respect in his eyes. "You're playing a dangerous game. I hope you know what you're doing." He muttered grouchily.
His own reputation was tied to him now, having bet his career on Sirius. A bad bet all told because Sirius was going to ruin him, but it was nice that he was trying.
Sirius stood, straightening his robes. "Come on, Barty. Let's get back to the Ministry. There's a lot to prepare for, and we need to be ready for when the goblins come back with their terms."
Barty rose with a sigh, shaking his head as they made their way out of the conference room. "And what if they refuse? What if they decide it's not worth the risk?"
"They won't refuse," Sirius said confidently as they walked down the corridor. The marble floors echoed with their footsteps, a stark contrast to the silence they had left behind in the negotiation room. "The goblins are too pragmatic for that. They know the potential benefits of controlling a prison like this. It's more than just gold - it's about power, influence, and the ability to show the wizarding world that they are more than just bankers."
"And wand rights?" Barty pressed, his voice tinged with skepticism. "You don't actually think they'll let that go, do you?"
Sirius shook his head. "Of course not. But we don't have to deal with that right now. It's a long game, Barty. We give them a taste of what they want, but keep the rest just out of reach. As long as they believe there's something more to gain, they'll stay at the table. We just need to keep them focused on the immediate task - building the prison and proving they can manage it."
He wondered if Barty knew he had a privacy charm attached to his ring that kept a bubble around them and kept their discussion private, or if he truly always was this open in the middle of enemy territory. Even in the conference room Sirius had activated it when the goblins had left both times. You never knew, Sirius certainly would have placed listening charms if he was in their shoes.
As they reached the main hall of Gringotts, they were met by the same goblins who had escorted them in. The goblins nodded curtly, their expressions unreadable, and led the way back to the grand entrance.
The bustling streets of Diagon Alley greeted them, the familiar sounds of shopkeepers calling out to customers, the chatter of witches and wizards going about their business, and the distant hoot of an owl delivering a letter. But even in the midst of this lively scene, Sirius felt the weight of the negotiations bearing down on him. The goblins would take their time, deliberate carefully, and then come back with demands that would test the limits of what the Ministry was willing to concede.
As they walked down the steps, his Auror guard stepping into line, having been left outside Gringotts, Barty glanced at Sirius, his brow furrowed in thought. "What's your next move, then? How do you plan to get this through the Wizengamot? They're not going to like the idea of goblins having more control over anything, let alone a prison for wizards."
Sirius smiled faintly, his mind already working through the possibilities. "We present it as a necessary measure - Azkaban has failed with an innocent Pureblood heir of all things suffering under Dementors, and we need a new solution. We emphasize the security aspect, how the goblins' expertise in underground construction and wards will make this prison inescapable. Play up the fear of a mass breakout or the Dementors defecting, again, and how this is the only way to prevent it."
Barty grunted, still not entirely convinced but unable to argue with Sirius's logic. "And if they push back? If they start asking questions?"
"Then we answer them," Sirius said simply. "We give them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but not so much that they feel the need to interfere. It's all about balance, Barty. Keeping everyone happy enough to go along with the plan without giving away too much."
They continued down Diagon Alley, weaving through the crowds of witches and wizards. Sirius's mind was still turning over the details of the negotiations, considering the angles, the possible objections, and how to counter them. He knew the Wizengamot would be a challenge - they were a conservative, often stubborn group, and any proposal involving goblins was bound to raise eyebrows. But Sirius was confident that he could navigate those waters.
He would find a way.
Azkaban would cease to exist.
So he swore.
So mote it be.
Author's note:
So the Ministry time begins, most of it within this chapter happening in one day, but it's setting up the most important people going forward outside of the Black family for the next little bit.
Sirius is still hunting for the Daily Prophet, not quite ready to pull the trigger on grabbing Harry yet.
There's an interlude of Isabella on Patreon, which kind of brought up some of the same things seen here. She is a dangerous woman.
Most of the time I've seen the Black Widow written into a story, it's been as either a complete slut, or a vampire/succubi of some sort.
Here she's just a very dangerous and accomplished witch, a quintessential Slytherin, of the kind the house doesn't produce anymore.
And goblins are shits, but they can't be worse then Dementors.
