Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own these characters. J.K.R. created them all, and I just sit around making up bizarre scenarios to put them in.
Prison was the most boring place in the world. Sirius Black could testify to that.
However, his house was proving to be a close second. Even with his best friend Remus keeping him company most of the time, they had nearly run out of things to keep themselves entertained for the months Sirius had spent inside.
"Check it out, Moony." Sirius held up a dusty book entitled 99 Muggle Inventions Worthy of Wizards. He bought the book when they were fifteen, and it inspired him to purchase his beloved motorbike.
Remus lifted his head from the novel he had been reading and smiled. "You still have that?"
"Found it behind the shelf," Sirius replied as he pulled another pile of books off the antique bookshelf. He was in the process of arranging all the books in the house by size. Sure, he had just sorted them by title a month ago, and by author a month before that, but he liked how the activity kept him useful for a full day.
"I think that was the inspiration for some of our best work ever." Remus dog-eared the page he was on and closed his book, sitting up and facing his friend. "Remember the firecrackers-
"And how we strapped them to the remote-control cars and got them into the Slytherin Common Room?" he finished. "That was definitely worth a month of detention. I'm surprised it wasn't more."
Remus moved over so Sirius could join him on the couch. "And do you remember how everyone always reacted the same way when we got caught?" Sometimes Remus found it hard to keep Sirius's spirits up, so he was relieved at the way all the life seemed to return to his face when he brought up details from their Hogwarts years. Remus decided keeping it up would be just what his sullen friend needed that afternoon. "Wormtail'd always be the first to talk, whining about how he didn't do it and barely even knew us."
"Still true," grumbled Sirius, "the worthless bastard."
"And James," Remus jumped in, trying to steer the conversation away from the reason they were stuck home in the first place. "Damn right I hexed Snape and stole his wand. So?" he bragged in an imitation of James's cocky tone, running his hands through his hair and mussing it up dramatically for emphasis.
This made Sirius laugh, really laugh, for the first time in too long.
"What?" joked Remus, reverting to his regular voice, but keeping his hair the way it was. "I think I actually make a pretty good James."
"Yeah, if James was a girl," joked Sirius. "Besides, you were always the one to—"
The words were interrupted by the ringing of an alarm, and immediately after, a nearly deafening shriek.
The alarm came from the kitchen, where a pot of soup was finished broiling. Remus was gaining more and more anxiety every day between the state of his best friend and the state of the Ministry, which was currently proving to be less trustworthy than ever, covering up the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and had found that the most calming activity for him was not reading, but classic, Muggle-style cooking.
The screaming had come from the portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius's mother, who had ensured her presence in the house with a permanent sticking charm on the wall before she knew her disowned son would be returning.
"I WAS SLEEPING! I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR NONSENSE IN MY HOUSE—" she screamed.
"YOUR HOUSE!? YOU'RE DEAD, OR HASN'T KREACHER BROKEN IT TO YOU YET?" Sirius retorted, now heated.
"YOU BETTER HOPE I'M DEAD, BECAUSE IF I WERE'NT I WOULD DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO—"
Remus, not as accustomed to this banter as Sirius, took it upon himself to set everything straight. After he had shut off the timer, he dashed halfway up the stairs to fix the slew of insults echoing throughout the mansion.
"Sorry for interrupting your sleep, Mrs Black," he spoke in an even toned, comforting voice. "Sirius is just grouchy, you know he's still adjusting after all that time in prison and I think he still needs some time to get—"
"MOONY, GET YOUR ARSE BACK IN HERE!" Sirius shouted from the other room.
"Sorry again, Mrs Black. You can go back to sleep now," he finished before scurrying back to Sirius's side.
"You," said Sirius, continuing the conversation they had been having earlier and apparently unfazed by the interlude of chaos, "you were always the one to suck up to adults."
At first he made to protest, but decided it was true. "Yeah, well at least I took a better approach then you, Padfoot. You always wanted revenge."
Sirius grinned in response. "You loved my revenge, Remus. Don't pretend you're above it."
"I'll admit, it was your best talent, and I used to get a kick out of it." Remus sighed, "I miss all of that."
"Yeah, those were the days. I just wish I could get out of this bloody house so there was someone we could… wait…" Sirius had a faint twinkle in his eye and a crease in his brow that Remus would never cease to recognize. (Insert quotation mark.)
"Sirius Black, I know that look. You can't pull anything on me. Don't think I don't know you and your looks." Remus began, scooting away from Sirius on the couch and holding up his hands.
"Relax, Moony, I've got a better plan," replied Sirius, shoving his friend for good measure. "Have you got any makeup?"
"Why in Merlin's name would I have makeup?
"Dunno, just wondering," answered Sirius too suspiciously. "Nevermind, I think we've got some markers in the cabinet."
"Why do you need—" Remus started, but the other wizard had already left.
When Sirius returned, permanent markers in hand, he had an air of anticipation and an uncommon energy about him.
Sirius smirked. "Come on, Remus. We're about to make up for sixteen years of hell."
"We?"
"Hey, weren't you just saying how much you missed the good ol' days? This'll be fun."
"Fine," Remus said with a sigh of compliance that was oh-so-familiar to his best friend.
Only two hours and a generous sum of money later, the men were back at Grimmuald Place, carrying in so many bags of loot they could barely see around them. The two of them had spent their time marauding around the local muggle toy stores and home goods stores, Sirius under a disguisement charm- though he doubted he'd run into anyone he knew- looking for the most muggle-est of objects they could find. They must have looked ridiculous,
staring ecstatically at the scanners, cash registers, and even the lightbulbs, but they had more on their minds. In their overflowing shopping bags they carried an impressive percentage of the 99 Muggle Inventions Worthy of Wizards, along with some probably unworthy ones.
Before their work had even begun, Remus and Sirius were already giddy with anticipation. They got out bottles of Firewhisky, just because they agreed the moment called for it, and tore open their boxes and bags like it was Christmas morning.
"The package says this need bate-ar... batteries," Remus remarked once he was done sorting through his stash and sitting in a puddle of cardboard and plastic. "How are we going to work it?"
"Ohh, you're right... Hmm, what do we have that could make an object work the way we want it to if we don't have baretties? Shucks, this is a toughie. I just wish I could... oh, I dunno, poke it with a stick or something, and it would magically-"
"Okay, I got it," Remus interrupted, exasperation in his voice but a smile on his mouth nonetheless.
It was another hour from there, full of teasing, spell-casting, painting, tinkering, laughing and arranging until the masterpiece was complete.
Standing before them was an "improved" portrait of Walburga Black. Below her new curly French mustache were black, unsmiling lips, and she also sported several new tattoos, including an eyeball resembling Moody's, a refrigerator (Sirius's favourite muggle invention), a Dark Mark a smiling daisy emerging from its mouth as opposed to a snake, and an I Kreacher.
To flatter her figure, as her altruistic son insisted, Walburga had been decked out in Gryffindor apparel, stuck in a red and gold hat and tie for the rest of eternity. Naturally, she protested with the nature of a grindylow being placed in a volcano, but with every complaint came a new gadget to drown out her cries. There were coo-coo clocks that chimed on the half-hour, spinning mobiles to clink along, jack-in-the-box's popping up at varied intervals and closing themselves back up to start all over again. The contraptions lined the stairs below the portrait, making an aisle including whirring blenders and toy telephones that made beeps and animals sounds all by themselves.
By the time the boys' work was complete, so was Walburga's melt down. She had moved on to a full blown panic attack, unable to speak through hyperventilation that turned her red in the face.
"You don't like it, Mum?" Sirius whined, his mouth in a mock-pout. "How about a little boost for your complexion, yeah?"
Remus handed over the disposable camera, and his accomplished snapped a photograph, letting the flash hit his mother right in the face. Beyond words, she wheezed louder.
"Portraits hate that the most," Remus said into Sirius's ear. "They don't let you do it in the museums, but they never tell you why."
"Good to know," replied Sirius. "Ready for the finishing touch?"
"Let's do it."
And with that, Sirius hit play on his boom box, blasting the Sex Pistols (a band much beloved by both Sirius and Remus), volume turned up to eleven. The friends clinked Firewhisky bottles and sang along to Anarchy in the UK, laughing at the sight of the work of art they had created.
"Think she likes our choice of soundtrack?" asked Sirius with a tone of concern.
"I'm not sure it's her thing," Remus replied, looking puzzled at the prospect. "Maybe we could try reading her a story later to calm her nerves. The Muggles wrote a pretty good one called 'The Bible'. I'm sure it'll be right up her street."
A/N: I apologize if this felt a little messy and rushed. I got really excited about this plot when it came to me, and when I started writing I went braindead. I hope you found some enjoyment in it nevertheless.
ReillyJade deserves a huge thank you and all 99 Muggle Inventions, for helping me come up with the majority of gimmicks employed to bother dear old Walburga, and for helping me on short notice.
Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 8, with the character Walburga Black. I am a Keeper for the Chudley Cannons.