For HSWW: Assignment 1: Care of Magical Creatures
Assignment: Write about a pacifist having to defend someone or something.
Birthday Fic: Aldira
Kingsley could leave this place and pretend like this never happened. No, Arthur Weasley didn't trap him in the restroom and demand five minutes of his time. The two stood in separate stalls and never made eye contact. And if this wasn't strange enough, after Kingsley insisted he either whip one out or continue on his way, Arthur played with a contraption called a blackboard. Kingsley, adept and to the point, stayed a man of few words. He listened, careful not to interrupt because the man covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time. After the spiel, Kingsley said neither yes nor no. Instead he went for chuckles after washing his hands in the basin and wrote a word on the. Muggle teaching tool.
Yes.
Of course, since Arthur remained all hush hush and fed him table scraps, Kingsley knew he'd had no idea what he agreed to. As he stood outside Number Twelve, Kingsley readied himself for anything and everything. This dwindled down to essentially nothing; he hated walking in on a scene blind. The dated wallpaper and gas lamps didn't scare him. In case he ended up in the ghetto, Kingsley changed from his robes into jeans, trainers, and a knit jumper he found in a secondhand shop. Still not entirely sure he wasn't in the ghetto, Kingsley kept his wand nearby.
A man with greying hair and a lined faced Apparated right beside him. Smiling slightly, he held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender and gave his name. They clasped hands briefly. Kingsley felt an odd sensation of deja vu, for he couldn't shake the feeling he'd crossed paths with this man. Remus passed pleasantries with the time, and Kingsley, uncertain again, shut up like a clam.
Of course, this was nothing compared to when he headed into the cold basement kitchen. He walked straight into the house-elf. The house-elf, not even making eye contact, switched to bountiful and colorful language. Kingsley apologized. The man with the shoulder-length hair held eye contact with. Kingsley after barking at the house-elf to leave. The wizard's wand lay on the table, though he didn't reach for it. Kingsley froze and listened to indistinct voices upstairs.
"Are you all right?" Sirius looked from Kingsley to Remus. The woman bustling around the kitchen stopped in her work and introduced herself as Arthur Weasley's wife. Kingsley, still mute, imagined this ending up badly. Placing his hands behind his head, Sirius spoke to Remus. This mass murderer made himself at home. "He's not okay. Does he speak English? I want the bastard in charge of dragging me back to hell to be qualified."
"*Je parle Français," said Kingsley, jarred a little. His tone changed a little as he switched tongues. This wasn't, strictly speaking, true, for he wasn't fluent in French. He knew enough to get by. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Kingsley couldn't tell whether he was impressed or bored to death. He went with the second guess.
"Good thing I wasn't in France," grumbled Sirius, picking at something on the table with his fingernail.
"Sirius." Remus sat next to Sirius and turned to thank Molly when large bowls of soup appeared in front of them. "Shut up."
Sirius shrugged as if to say he meant nothing by it. He leaned on the back legs of his chair. "Arthur tracked you down?"
"Tracked me down?" Kingsley didn't like the sound of that.
"Yeah," sighed Sirius languidly. He grinned, energy returning to his once sunken eyes. He appeared to get regular square meals. Sirius seemed to guess along the lines of where Kingsley went. He gestured around the kitchen and helped himself to a dinner roll from a bread basket conjured by Molly Weasley. "I am the one being held hostage."
Kingsley nodded, not really following this conversation. "What makes you think I won't drag you in?"
"Sit down, Kingsley. May I call you Kingsley?" Sirius returned Kingsley's nod, though Kingsley stood stock still as if trained by military. "Albus Dumbledore asked for you. I dunno …he said I need someone. Apparently I need …. You're my person, all right? Listen. If you don't want in, someone will Obviliate you. Like Mad-Eye."
"Mad-Eye?" Aghast, Kingsley scanned the cavernous kitchen, expecting to see the retired ex-Auror. He wasn't there. If he hid under an Invisibility Cloak, which Kingsley wouldn't put past him, Mad-Eye didn't let himself known. He linked his fingers together, tired of the games. "What does this have to do with Arthur Weasley? I do not spend my time gluing model airplanes."
Molly unscrewed a beer and handed it to him. Sirius and Remus laughed.
"No, offense, ma'am," added Kingsley hastily. "Pardon my French."
"That's what he's known for," said Molly, wiping her hands on her apron and charming the dishes into washing themselves.
Kingsley liked his little private world. He kept his nose down and he kept his mouth shut. There were no photographs of his wife littering his cubicle; he stared at photographs of Sirius Black and his friends all day. Kingsley knew Sirius probably more intimately than he knew his own wife, and the two men had never met. He signed the memorial outside the place in Godric's Hollow. At the time he wrote some line about righting a wrong. It probably got written over by scribbles and signatures.
"Okay." Kingsley chose not to touch his food and spread his hands. "Tell me what happened."
"Everything?" Sirius put his chair back on the ground. He told his spiel one, two, three, four times before Kingsley made the slightest interruption. Kingsley wrote nothing down because he didn't want his man distracted. Listening, Kingsley paced the kitchen or closed his eyes. Once or twice, a redhead popped in and got shooed out by their mother.
"Stop." Kingsley held up a hand the fifth time Sirius told his tale and got to the part about arriving at the Potters' place. "Why did it not occur to you to get in touch with him?"
Kingsley pointed at Remus. Remus stayed as a buffer or to deescalate the situation. He worked on devouring a slice of chocolate cake and appeared as confused as Sirius. Kingsley knew Sirius Black like the back of his hand. He wasn't a Marauder. In fact, he was three years older than James and his gang of friends, and he probably would've found them annoying and demeaning back in the day. Kingsley asked for seconds. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Sirius and Remus simply sat there.
"I ran this through my head a thousand times," said Sirius hoarsely, weary of the interrogation. He got to his feet. "Break."
"No." Kingsley scratched with his fingernail, imagining the wallpaper. He performed interrogations all the time, so this was nothing. Sirius used choice words, and Kingsley, tired after a long day's work, got pushed to his limit. He slammed a fist on the table, upsetting his lukewarm beer. He took a deep breath, cleaned up his mess and dismissed Sirius with a curt nod.
"Sirius," said Remus quietly.
"Sirius has to fight for himself here." Kingsley got to his feet. He didn't mean to come off rude, but he needed Sirius to stand on his shaky feet. When Sirius came back, Kingsley suggested the scenic route. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
"Not a dog." Sirius took his jacket off the back of his chair and pulled it on. Next moment, he shifted into his dog form, completely ignoring Molly when she said he ought to stay put in Grimmauld Place.
"Are you coming?" Kingsley followed Sirius and turned towards Remus. He stopped, studying him again, his thoughts wavering. Remus wore shabby clothes. "I know you."
"Yeah. Soup kitchen in the East End. You fed me soup on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day when I caught the flu nine years ago." Remus shuffled his feet a little, acting like he didn't want to admit this. Things got better when they stepped outside. Remus smiled, shrugged it off as Sirius trotted along a little ahead of them. "Thank you. You saved my life."
"It's nothing." Kingsley smirked when Sirius, finally able to stretch his legs, chased a cat. He came back. Kingsley reached in his back jeans pocket and tossed Remus his wallet. Remus went straight for the photographs."The woman with brown hair and blue eyes?"
"Patti." A soft smile touched Remus's lips.
Kingsley flashed his hand, realized too late he wore nothing there because he'd taken off his wedding band to play a divorced man and found it hanging around his neck. Sirius gave a barking laugh.
"You're married? Oh, you were the fiancé who messed up the stations! Mordecai stuck you on sandwich station." Remus shook his hand again. He acted like an old friend, all acquaintance awkwardness evaporated since they'd been in the weeds together. Remus slept in the shelters and worked himself into the ground. "How's Patti?"
"Good, good. Mordecai has her on speed dial. That's a Muggle phone feature." Kingsley added this last bit, wondering if Arthur Weasley would know this. "He finds us every Christmas."
"I'm actually good at using a phone," said Remus. They stopped by a bus stop and Sirius shimmered back. Remus showed him the photograph of Kingsley's wife. He stomped his feet, mirroring Mordecai George's girth. "He's this big black fellow. Talks to everybody … takes care of the East End. He's an attorney."
"Muggle attorney," guessed Sirius. He sat on a bench. None of them said anything for a while. Sirius patted the empty spot in the bench. "I don't like you."
"Okay." This didn't phase Kingsley at all. "But I'm all you've got. And believe me when I tell you, Sirius, you want a good man in your corner. I'm not a fighter until I'm pushed over a line, yet I will go down swinging for you."
"You don't believe me." Sirius crossed his legs.
"Why would you not go find Remus? Or when push got to shove, why didn't you ask for an attorney?" These words, common sense to Kingsley, pained him. Sirius sat here, stuck somewhere between twenty-one and thirty-four, his life put on hold since his incarceration. Kingsley searched Sirius's blank face. "Do something. Say something! Anything!"
Sirius, quick to anger, struggled to control his emotions. Remus frowned. "How the hell am I supposed to know that? I was a kid! He faked his death. I didn't…. I didn't know. Where the hell were you fourteen years ago?"
"In training." Kingsley patted him on the knee, surprised this man let him touch him. They laughed, though neither of them knew at what exactly. Sirius, spent, drained from questioning, wiped tears from his eyes. He cried, his body shaking, and Kingsley let him borrow his shoulder. Sirius deserved something, though empty words probably meant nothing to him. Kingsley leaned on reassurance. "It is your right as a human being to ask for legal representation no matter what. God gives you that right. I don't care if It's Cornelius Fudge. In fact, if it ends up being Cornelius Fudge… you ask for me and Mordecai George."
Remus grinned, no doubt picturing Mordecai storming through the kitchen. "May I witness this?"
"He's a beast." Kingsley offered Sirius his hand and heaved him to his feet.
Kingsley needed time, lots of time since the government wasn't ready to see they made a wrong. Sirius wiped his eyes on his sleeve and shifted shape again. Kingsley decided to hit the ground running. Once Cornelius Fudge opened his eyes, this would go down in a hurry. He couldn't add fourteen years to the clock or bring James and Lily Potter back. If he could take the attention off the search for Sirius, he wanted to give him a shot. Kingsley picked his wallet off the ground, emptied it, and handed his gold and Muggle money to Remus.
Remus tried to give it back. "I don't need this."
"My wife said if we ever cross paths again to give you everything on my person. Not my wedding band. Not this." He slipped this treasure back on his hand. "I choose life."
*"I speak French."