Author's Note:
Round 4: Forgotten Families
Team: Pride of Portree
Position: Beater 2
Family: The Shacklebolts
Prompts used: 1. (colour) silver
6. (object) fiddle
10. (dialogue) "You got a package for me?"
Word Count: _2999_ excluding Author's Note
This is an alternative universe fic that attempts to imitate the style of old westerns and tries to place Harry Potter characters in the Wild West. It also focuses specifically on Kingsley Shacklebolt as it was allowed by the prompt to use just one member of the assigned family.
Trouble at Deadwater
Remus Lupin, the owner of Deadwater's only store, glanced fondly at his wife Nymphadora who was wiping down the counter, humming a merry tune. He walked over to her with every intention of putting his hands around her and kissing her when the bell at the door rang to signify the entrance of three men in black.
It had been six long years since they moved into the small town in the middle of the desert, and during that time they had prospered. The town was always full of travellers, even if no one really wanted to stay there long. Whether they stayed or not, though, they still brought business Lupin's way. Nymphadora was good with money, better than him even, so they'd saved up quite a bit. Until Deadwater became an obstacle in the way of train tracks to run right through where it stood. That's when the trouble first started.
The owner of the railroad was a man by the name of Tom Riddle. Not much was known about him except the rumours that he always got his way, whatever he had to do to get it. Remus Lupin could attest to that.
He pulled away from his wife and one hand went for the rifle under the counter, but the intruders were quicker. One of them, a tall fellow with messy black hair, already held a six shooter in hand.
"I would not do that if you want your lady to live! I've only come to ask if you got a package for me?"
Riddle did not want to get his hands dirty. It was far easier to drive people out with shakedowns than to explain away disappearances of store keepers and their pregnant wives. Lupin had given away nearly all their savings and yet the goons kept showing up.
Pushing his wife behind him, Lupin stepped forward, hand still brushing the rifle, and shook his head. "You came yesterday. There's nothing left to give!"
The leader was not moved. He shook his head. He was taller than Lupin and looked down on the man. "Surely there's something of value in this dump?"
Nymphadora looked like she was about to say something untoward to the man but Remus put a hand on her shoulder with a sigh. "My grandmother's silverware should do."
A pair of silver spurs touched the scorching sand. The owner of the spurs patted his horse gently and led her to the water before looking around. The town, if it could even be called that, was small, consisting only of one street that stretched lazily into the distance. On that street he could see a saloon, the office of a hairdresser who seemed to double as an undertaker, the sheriff's office and a small store. Giving his horse one last pat, he turned and headed for the store.
The bell rang just as Remus was about to hand the silver over. He froze, looking up to shoo away whoever the unfortunate soul was. The sight was rather unexpected.
The man at the door was tall and dark-skinned, but what made him so imposing was that he was dressed in all black from his boots to his hat and on each side of his waist he had a shiny silver revolver.
The man seemed unphased by the unfolding scene; he stepped right in and walked over to the shelves. Remus's eyes followed him nervously.
The leader's attention also turned on the newcomer. "Heya, friend, can't you see the store is closed?"
"I saw no such sign, friend. You carry out your business, I shall carry out mine, and we need not get in each other's way," the man replied offhandedly.
"I fear that will not do, friend. I must insist that you leave!" The man's hand was still holding the weapon as he turned slowly.
"I must refuse then." replied the stranger.
The goon moved to shoot but he was too late.
The stranger drew his own weapon so quickly it was nearly impossible to see, and fired off two shots. The leader and one of his friends went down. The third reconsidered midway through drawing his weapon and fled. The stranger approached and picked up the fallen weapons
"Nice people you have here in Deadwater!" he remarked. "Would one of you mind fetching the sheriff?"
"He won't do a damn thing. Old Cornelius is easy to bribe-" Nymphadora began. Remus placed a hand on her arm again to silence her.
"Pay no mind to my wife. She is rattled by gunfighting-"
Nymphadora shook her husband's hand away. "No, Remus." She turned to the man. "I love my husband, but he can be a coward. The sheriff doesn't care what any of Riddle's men do as long as Riddle keeps his pockets lined with cash."
"And who is this Riddle?" asked the stranger, kneeling down to check the vitals of the two men he'd shot.
"Who are you to be asking such questions?" asked Remus softly.
The stranger stood. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. Federal Marshal."
"A Federal Marshal? Out here?"
"A warrant brings me here. I am looking for a murderer by the name of Sirius Black. You know where to find him?"
"He's one of Riddle's men," replied Remus slowly. "But you don't want to go poking around there now that you've shot two of his thugs. If I were you, I'd leave town tonight!"
With this grim warning in his ears, Kingsley left the store to find the sheriff.
As Nymphadora Lupin had predicted, the sheriff was of little help. If he had not been carrying his Marshal credentials, Kingsley suspected he'd have spent the night in the jail and faced a hanging judge in the morning. Now, though, he headed for the saloon.
The saloon was a big building that looked like it would fall over at any moment. There had once been big, bright letters over the door forming the name of the establishment. By the time Kingsley laid eyes on the building, all that was left was "OG EAD."
After an unsuccessful attempt to piece together what it had said, he shrugged and entered. The saloon was as unimpressive inside as it had been outside. The decor was shabby, and to further the mood a lonely musician was plucking away at a fiddle as if it were a chicken that she was trying to rid of feathers. This led to the music being uneven and added yet another pathetic layer to the atmosphere .
Behind the bar stood a man about as disheveled as the establishment itself, wiping away at a glass that he was consistently making dirtier and dirtier. Kingsley took off his hat and approached the bar. The man left the rag on the table and glared at him with two unusually piercing blue eyes.
"Do you have any rooms for the night?"
"I don't want any trouble." The man measured him up and down. "This is a respectable establishment." Then after a moment of consideration he nodded. "Room four is free. As long as there's no trouble." He held out his hand and Kingsley dropped a few coins into it. Nevertheless, as the man was handing over the key he reiterated: "No trouble!"
"Pay no mind to old Aberforth!" A young woman smiled at Kingsley from behind her own drink. She was tall and pretty, and her sequined dress, which mostly consisted now of sequin-less patches, implied that she was the other part of the evening's entertainment.
Kingsley took his key and walked over to her. "What's with this town then? Why's everyone so nervous?"
"Buy me a drink, handsome, and I'll tell you."
A few cheap whiskeys later, the girl, who went by the name of Angelina Johnson, had told Kingsley the entire story of how Riddle had begun terrorizing the town and how most people did not dare to do anything about it. She herself was a singer trying to find her way out. Once she'd even dreamt of studying biology, but with her wages going to Riddle's goons she was stuck in Deadwater with no place to go. Incidentally, he also learned that Deadwater was, surprisingly, a sanctuary for frogs. An oasis with the widest selection of species this side of the sand ocean.
"So, handsome, you going to be the hero that frees us all?" she asked as her speech became slurred from the whiskey. "We could use one, you know!" She leaned in close and grinned.
"I am here to do my job, Madam." he replied simply as he turned to excuse himself. She had provided valuable information but now she was becoming an inconvenience.
"Well, I heard what you did at the store. Our trouble is your trouble now. Just don't let old Aberforth catch you bringing trouble here-" The girl hiccuped and shook her head. "Hates trouble, he does!"
As if on cue, trouble raised its ugly head. Before Kingsley could respond, a woman entered the saloon and sauntered over to where he was standing. To be more precise, trouble had quite a pretty head, attached to a fit body in a tight corset and high-heeled boots. Kingsley's years on the job had taught him that some women just reeked of trouble, and she was no different. Her hair was a wild crow's nest of black curls and her eyes shone with a mad twinkle. Angelina gave the lady one look and, despite her inebriated state, was out of her chair and gone in a flash.
The newcomer stared at Kingsley and shook her head so that the crow's nest seemed to come alive with motion.
"The boss wants a word with you!" she declared without an introduction.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I don't usually meet people at such a late hour. What is this about?"
"It is about the two men you killed at Lupin's when they were there on legitimate business." She stepped closer and the stiffness in her movements indicated she was probably armed. That, or her corset had been laced improperly tight.
"Well tell the 'boss' that I don't do nighttime meetings. If he wants to discuss those two dead goons he can talk to the sheriff!" At his answer, the entire saloon fell silent. Even the musician gave her poor fiddle some rest. From the corner of his eye, Kingsley saw Aberforth reach for something under the bar.
The woman opened her mouth and let out a cackle. "I say you go now!"
Kingsley considered her for a moment. Then, he considered the implications of bringing trouble to Aberforth's impeccable saloon. Finally, he nodded and motioned for the woman to lead the way.
The night had fallen on the desert in one smooth motion as if someone had tucked the land in with a black feather blanket. One could hardly see a hand in front of their face. Drawing a gun was nearly unthinkable. The woman led Kingsley further into the soft darkness and he began to get a bad feeling about it. Fingers played at the gun on his hip and he inhaled deeply.
A few steps more and he could scarcely see a thing. He reached out to see if he could touch the woman in front of him when a gleaming blade struck out at him. Only due to his training as a Marshal was he able to dodge it and pull out his revolver, but it was of little help against an unseen enemy. He dared not fire off a shot for fear of hitting some poor bystander. The knife, though, struck again. He thought that the wielder surely must have the eyes of a demon to see her target.
Kingsley tripped over something in the dark as he tried to dodge the third blow. The blade tore at his flesh and he fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. The knife rose again and…
...Never came down. A piercing screech slashed the darkness and was followed by a soft thud. With shaking fingers, Kingsley went for his revolver again, as a figure emerged from the darkness. Then he lost consciousness.
With tremendous effort, Kingsley opened his eyes to see a man with shaggy black hair standing over of him.
"Don't try to sit up just yet." The man offered him a glass of water and Kingsley thought there was something very familiar about him.
"The woman?" he croaked.
"Ah yes, you met dear Bella, my lovely cousin. She's tied up in the back, recovering."
"Bella?"
"Yeah, you had the honour of meeting and surviving having met Bellatrix Black!"
Bellatrix Black was an outlaw. A woman rumored to be twice as vicious as any man and fiercely devoted to death and destruction. Kingsley knew all that and cursed himself for not having realized it. Then something else struck him and his hand went down to his hip. "Cousin? That must make you Sirius Black?"
The man gave a tired bark of laughter. "Must it really? I know you're a Marshal with a warrant."
"And you saved my life. Is this some sort of trick? To make me beholden to Riddle?"
At the mention of that name, something in Sirius's face changed and he snarled grimly. "Riddle? I have nothing to do with that murderous bastard. I'd sooner kill him than do him a favor."
"Well, the law wants you for something and I have to bring you in." Kingsley's hand brushed his revolver. Surprisingly the outlaw had not taken it off him.
Sirius considered it for a moment. "And you'll just leave the townspeople to die at Riddle's hand? He'll keep sending people. As long as he pays well, there will be cutthroats to do his dirty work."
Kingsley shot up from his position on the bed, causing a sudden pain to course through his shoulder. "I am just a lawman! What can I do?"
"You can be a lawman and stop Riddle! I might have something that will save the city if it finds its way into your capable hands. If you are willing to… say… look the other way while I pack up and leave?"
"Your help would depend on your freedom?"
Sirius shrugged. "I owe the town nothing. They abandoned me."
"You have no honor-"
Sirius's hand clenched. "I spent twelve years in prison for their lies! For a murder they said I committed when it was Pettigrew from the beginning!"
"I am a Marshal. I don't make deals with criminals. I don't know who Pettigrew is or what they think you did but the judge will set it straight." Kingsley got up slowly and pointed the gun at Sirius. "Go on, then. Against the wall!"
Before Sirius could react, the door opened and a third man slipped in. He was tall and his black hair reached his shoulders. The man stared at the scene in disgust, indicating he'd heard at least the end of the conversation. "I would appreciate it greatly if you would lower your gun. As much as my associate might deserve a bullet, he has not yet outlived his usefulness."
"Same to you, Sni-Snape!" Sirius barked back. He turned to Kingsley: "Snape here has something that will save the town. Provided you let me go."
Kingsley turned to Snape who nodded. "Quite. There are bigger things at play here; much bigger than one mangy drunk dog."
Kingsley hesitated. He was a gunfighter and a lawman; he was not used to making deals with criminals. To him, the warrant was everything.
"You can save the town? If I let Sirius go?"
"As I believe I said already."
"Come on, we'll even throw in Bella. A different, much better warrant!" coaxed Sirius.
Kingsley fought with himself trying to choose between sparing the man that had saved him or doing his duty. "No promises."
Sirius shrugged. "Give him the paper, Snape."
Snape handed the Marshal neatly folded papers. Kingsley looked them over and shook his head in surprise.
"FROGS?" In an uncharacteristic display of rage, Tom Riddle's teacup shattered against the wall, sending shards everywhere. "I cannot build my train tracks because of tree huggers fighting for FROGS?"
Peter Pettigrew shook in his boots, wishing to be anywhere else. "Y-y-yes sir, I am afraid so…" It was amazing how little a human life was worth out there in the vast plains of sand, and yet now there were at least two dozen protesters behind Riddle's window, chanting about frogs.
Riddle forced his voice calm and emotionless as his eyes turned to his most trusted lieutenant, Severus Snape. "And how, may I ask, did they get their hands on my confidential frog report?"
The man shrugged. "Bellatrix must have had it on her when she was captured. She can be… careless."
Riddle's eyes narrowed. "And this lawman, who alerted the environmental agency?"
"Kingsley Shacklebolt, sir. He also caused trouble for you in town!" Pettigrew hastened to state.
Hatred shot through Riddle's eyes. "Then I shall look forward to meeting this… lawman… again!"
"You know he'll come after you now," remarked Sirius as Kingsley pushed Bellatrix up on his horse.
"And I will beat him again," replied the lawman simply. "Where there's a will, there's a way." He glanced down at the man. "You never told me, what's the deal with you and Snape. Why he'd help you?"
Sirius grinned: "Perhaps there are others that want to take Riddle down. He's hurt a lot of people. As the greasy git said, I'm useful to someone."
Kingsley considered it and sighed: "You'd have saved the town regardless of what I did. That's why Snape came to you."
Sirius shrugged: "Maybe. Can't fault a man for trying to save his own skin too though."
Kingsley nodded. "Good luck then. Now I will close my eyes and count to ten. I hope no outlaws disappear during that time."
The last he heard of Sirius was a harsh bark of laughter, but he had a feeling their paths would cross again soon.