Chapter 25: Wrapping up Loose Ends

By the time the ministry officials finally showed up, it was much too late for them to do anything.

Because, well, all of the attackers had already been dealt with. The officials appeared, braced for a fight, and encountered only a still-slightly-burning campsite and a pile of unconscious Death Eaters caught behind the strangest glowing white bars.

There was no sign of who had caused this result.

Well, that's not entirely true. The few witnesses they could find were raving about some mysterious blue figure, glowing with white light, who had simply… taken down the Death Eaters. A figure that had waved their hand and had force follow in its wake. Who had stood calmly as a killing curse flew directly at their face, and then watched as it flew harmlessly into the sky.

So the officials asked their questions again, because surely that couldn't be right.

But the witnesses just shook their heads, perhaps as disbelieving as their questioners, and repeated what they had seen.

It was rather helpful that, at least for the moment, these accurate accounts were being regarded as crazy stories. Conveniently, this assumption of craziness also seemed to slow down those officials. It was all pretty entertaining. Sans—who was monitoring the goings-on from a distance—could certainly appreciate it.

One of the uniformed wizards abruptly walked into frame from outside the edge of the shortcut window, clearly frustrated with his questionee.

"I've talked to three witnesses, and they're all bonkers." The wizard was fuming, his back and forth pacing fueled by annoyed energy. "If the next one spouts the same impossible nonsense, I swear—!" He had been ramping up anger, but now he abruptly deflated back into bargaining."I just want a straight answer, is that too much to ask?"

A voice nearby—and it was actually nearby, not from the other end of his scouting shortcut—pulled his attention away from the spying he had been doing.

"sorry, did ya say something?"

Mrs. Roberts frowned at him, concerned, then whispered, "See, dear? He was off in his own little world. I know he saved us, but he's still only Will's age. He—"

"I know, I know," her husband answered. He, too, kept his tone soft: in consideration of their two sons, both of whom were snoozing on the couch together.

A few minutes ago, Sans had whisked the whole family away from the campgrounds and straight back to their own home. The destination choice was a bit rushed, perhaps, but it was the best he could do on short notice: he'd felt a curious twisting in the fabric of reality, guessed it was because of somebody arriving express from elsewhere, and decided to evacuate.

With the adrenaline finally having a chance to drain away, tension and stress and fear leaving behind exhaustion, it was only natural that Will and Miles both fell asleep straight away. They hadn't even made it to their own beds before passing out. Although to be fair, that probably had at least some to do with them not being willing to leave their parents quite yet.

Slightly embarrassed by their concern, Sans spoke up again. "i'm right here, guys."

"I know," she said, and she nudged a glace of water just a little bit closer to him. Her smile was relieved, but also worried. "That's part of why I said it."

Sans took the offered drink, and he could still hear the distinct sound of his bone fingers clinking against glass. The glamour could only do so much, after all. He stared down into the water, swirling it slowly.

"i'm fine. this wasn't even…" The second sentence petered away, his story dying before it could begin. He couldn't very well explain the whole of his situation—he didn't even want to—but he still needed to say something. "i'm fine," he repeated.

Mrs. Roberts, being a mother, certainly didn't miss that unfinished sentence. She gave him a very stern look, but thankfully didn't press for details. He would have dodged any further questions, of course, but the problem was that he wasn't quite sure he would have wanted to.

He shook himself from his thoughts; he had a question of his own the ask.

"do you…" Sans almost couldn't get the words out his mouth, but, as much as he personally loathed the idea, he had to know. Ignorance is bliss, after all. His memories—nightmares—of dark, deadly, dusty timelines is testament to that. "do you want to forget?"

Mr. Roberts looked momentarily thoughtful, his eyes turning to his quietly snoring sons as he considered the option. His wife, however, answered instantly and with no hesitation at all.

"No," she said, firmly, and there was an almost dangerous glint in her eyes. "This was…" The words stuck in her throat for a moment, and she, too, couldn't help but look over to Will and Miles, reassuring herself that they were fine. "Tonight was horrible— It was beyond horrible. But those—I can't bring myself to call them 'people'. They're dangerous, and I can't let myself forget that."

It wasn't an answer he had expected, but it was certainly an answer he could respect.

"then i'll keep an eye out," he said, and he gestured to the pile of pillows and blankets. "so you can go to sleep too. i 'spect you're exhausted."

"Us? You should be the one in need of more sleep, after everything you did tonight!" Mr. Roberts protested, and his wife echoed that sentiment.

Sans shrugged. "if wizards do show up, i'm best to deal with 'em." Which was a good point that the parents really couldn't argue against. To reassure them, he added, "besides, magic helps with the whole sleep deal."

They still looked none too pleased about the idea.

"at least go lay down, guys." He waved a hand and one of the blankets followed the motion, invitingly beckoning them to come over and sleep. "a lot of sheet happened tonight."

"Language!" reprimanded Mrs. Roberts, but she was smiling a little and her husband couldn't help but chuckle.

Holding up his hands in self-defense, Sans jokingly protested, "but i have im-pun-ity!"

"That doesn't hold in this court, I'm afraid." From the look in his eyes, the dad was setting up for a joke of his own. And indeed: "You'll need to be pun-ished."

"ah, such a good ol' reliable pun," Sans complimented, willfully ignoring Mrs. Roberts dramatic muttering about wanna-be comedians.

The joke seemed to be the best argument in favor of sleeping, and therefore not being subjected to more lame wordplay. So Mrs. Roberts walked the short distance away to claim a space among the blankets, gently settling down beside the couch within arms reach of her children.

But Mr. Roberts, still hesitant, had to ask one more time: "Are you sure?"

"yeah," Sans reassured, perfectly sincere. "i'm fine."

So the man joined his wife, piling up a few more blankets and pillows to soften the floor. As they settled themselves down with their children nearby and safe, finally letting themselves relax a little, it didn't take long for the two adults to swiftly drift off to sleep as well.

Sans kept watch as the minutes slowly ticked by: monitoring the immediate area, the campsite via a shortcut, and the sort of immaterial plane he could feel twisting whenever a wizard or witch tried their Apparate trick.

Like right now, actually.

There was a loud snap, and suddenly there were two more people standing in the living room. The sound disturbed one of the sleepers—he couldn't tell which—but they just grumbled, rolled over, and didn't actually wake up.

"you're lucky they were already snoozing before you just decided to pop in," Sans said, addressing these two newcomers in a tone sharp with implied reprimand.

Both officers looked a bit surprised to see him there, especially the woman: he recognized her, since she was the same person who had tried to wipe the Roberts' memories earlier. She clearly hadn't expected to see him again, even though she was visiting the same family. And for some reason, she seemed a bit uneasy around him.

No clue why that could be the case, though the last time they met he had been a bit… judgmental. Nothing too serious.

(Inside, he was vindictively pleased that she was still a little spooked by him.)

The second officer—a balding, middle-aged man—either didn't notice his partner's anxiety or he just didn't care. "Who's this? I thought there were only two boys, and neither looked, well…"

Sans just smiled, because he was perfectly aware that he looked odd: aside from his clothing, which some would say to be weird in and of itself, he was basically colorless. He was fairly sure that Sirius had planned on adding color later, but had just never gotten around to it.

"He's a, er, friend of the family?" the witch replied, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. "He was here earlier today, too."

"that i am and that i was."

Ignoring Sans entirely, the wizard turned to his partner again. "And he's… one of us, is he?"

"if you mean 'am i magical'," Sans cut in, stealing back the question that really should have been aimed at him in the first place, "then the answer is 'yes'. not that it should matter to you, but i might as well be made of the stuff."

It would seem the old man was unaccustomed to being treated in such a way: that is to say, so bluntly that it was bordering on impolite. Clearly Sans had no intention of treating him as an authority figure, despite his position as a Ministry employee. Testily, he asked, "And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"

Mostly to be a bother, Sans returned, "what part?"

"Mr. Peasegood," the witch interrupted, nervously eyeing the small child staring down her partner. If asked why the boy unsettled her, she wouldn't be able to give a concrete answer: he just did. "Perhaps we ought to just finish up and leave."

"True," he mused, dropping the previous subject entirely. "I suppose we should." The wizard made as if to aim his wand toward the sleeping family, but hesitated when he felt the chill look leveled at him.

"hey now, there's no need for that," Sans said, still smiling. But it was a hollow smile, not doing much to hide the threat behind his otherwise benign words.

For a moment, the room was perfectly silent. There was almost a weight in the air—it wasn't an actual magical force, like blue magic would have been, but… more like a promise. They couldn't see nor hear nor physically feel anything, but both the witch and wizard nevertheless knew there was danger.

It was, somewhat surprisingly, the woman who spoke up next. She gathered her courage, then walked out between her partner and the sleeping muggle family.

Sans quirked a brow at that, but did nothing other than keep a careful eye on her.

"It's fine," she said, looking very uncomfortable with suddenly being the center of attention. "Probably. I imagine somebody's already dealt with them, right? I mean, why else would they be at home already?"

Interestingly, it seemed as if she didn't even quite believe her own words: he could see it in the way her eyes couldn't settle, heard it in the way the question lilted upward unsteadily at the end.

He wasn't sure what she was trying to pull—if anything—but Sans decided to roll with her suggestion. "yeah, ages ago. isn't it better to not wipe minds… unnecessarily?"

She nodded, genuinely in agreement, and his opinion of her rose a few notches.

The man, annoyingly enough, looked unconvinced. Scowling at the sleeping family as if somehow this whole situation was their fault, he again raised his wand. "Better safe than sorry. Obliviate."

Mad enough to whack him over the head with a femur—it took all of his reset-trained control to refrain—Sans simply ground his teeth together. He flicked out his own magic and tore away all the intent and power from the spell, and it became nothing more than the light it gave off.

Oddly, the woman was giving him a rather peculiar look. Almost as if she knew what he had just done—or was at least suspicious that he had just done something. She didn't say anything about it, though, so he elected to ignore her.

"There," the man said, gustily. "Now we know for sure."

She hummed noncommittally, but still nodded. He seemed to take that as complete agreement, and, with one last glance at Sans, decided his business was done. Turning sharply on his heel, there was that strange sensation of reality twisting and a sharp pop. He was gone.

Hesitating and gathering her courage, the woman took a step toward Sans and held out her hand. "My name's Matilda Nettlebane."

A little perplexed at this sudden introduction, Sans nonetheless shook her hand. "i'm sans."

"Nice to meet you," she said, apparently both as a belated greeting and a goodbye. "And good luck."

Then, with a pop, she vanished as well. The room at last returned to restful silence.

But only for a moment.

"Well," whispered a small voice from the other side of the room. "That was scary."

"'Terrifying', Will," replied the older brother, just as softly. "The w-word you're looking for is 'terrifying'."

Sans hummed in agreement, remembering somewhat too late that he should be trying to keep it quiet so as not disturb anyone. "how long were you up?"

The two boys shared a glance, trying to recall the time in the conversation that they had tuned in, which Sans took to mean 'long enough'. He carefully made his way over, mindful of the sleeping parents, and perched on the arm of the couch.

After a long, only slightly uncomfortable silence, he said, "…i'm sorry."

Miles sighed. "Are we gonna have to go through this again?"

Will shook an angry fist at him, and it was somehow less threatening than the first time earlier when his brother had tried the same move. Probably because the kid was trying to hold back a yawn, meaning he was making a funny face.

Smiling at them—though, given how dark the room was, they probably couldn't see it very well—Sans shook his head. "nah, i geddit. but still."

"Fine," said Miles, and he very slowly levered himself up into a sitting position. "You can be sorry, so long as you know you're being silly. You'll get over it eventually."

"perhaps." Frowning slightly, Sans watched as Miles gently readjusted the blankets. The kid was moving very carefully, as if he was… "hurt," he murmured. "you're hurt. or were hurt… but i don't see any—"

He put up his hands, as if he could physically pat away the concern. "I was, before. It hurt, but d-didn't actually do a-a-anything but hurt."

The stutter was back, brought by the reminder to recent memories. And with it was a smile that tried to hide deeper pain: easily recognizable. Sans could pull it off flawlessly, after all.

Practice makes perfect.

"can i… would you mind if i CHECK that you're really okay?"

"Check what?" Will asked, before his older brother got the chance to. "And why?"

Sans rested a hand over his chest, picking his words carefully. "just to be sure. i can look a little… deeper than most."

Eyes wide with amazement, Will whispered, "You have x-ray vision?"

"what? no!" He managed to keep the surprise quiet, and he had to swallow back a laugh. "…though that would be cool. no, it's a different sorta thing."

Both kids seemed slightly disappointed, even Miles. "Oh. Well, If you think it m-might help."

"this… may feel a bit weird."

Sans briefly considered using a full CHECK, which would give him statistics without drawing out the boy's SOUL. Then again, if the problem wasn't something physical, the numbers might not show anything. It could be like his encounter with those Dementor things had been: none of his stats had changed, but there had definitely been an effect.

So, with a deliberately slow gesture to telegraph what he was doing, he beckoned the SOUL. There were two awed gasps, though one sounded slightly uncertain: the process did feel peculiar in a way that just couldn't be explained.

"What is it?"

"it's your… uh…" Sans wondered if he should maybe just say it was a representation, like a health meter or something, rather than just straight up telling him that it was the core of his very being. But then, honesty is the best policy. "your SOUL."

Neither boy seemed to know how to respond to that.

The SOUL was vibrantly orange, the solid color a typical characteristic of youth. A little small, perhaps, but that, too, is normal for children. It wasn't covered in sludge or darkness, it wasn't cracking apart or hung up by strings or any other blatantly obvious sign that something was wrong.

But he knew a thing or two about SOULS, and he could see that it was bruised. Battered.

"What's wrong?" Miles asked, a little nervous: the soft orange glow was enough light for him to tell that Sans was frowning.

"nothing much," he answered. "just annoyed that i'm not better at green— er, healing magic."

Will, who had been distracted from his worry by the glowing heart, immediately turned back to the actual matter at hand. "What's that mean? Is he okay? He is okay. …Right?"

Sans smiled, reminded of his own brother. "he's fine," he reassured. "but i can't help him along."

Or at least, he couldn't help him heal.

Cupping the small orange SOUL between his hands, he channeled one of his most familiar colors: cyan. A glimmering bubble formed around the heart, creating a shield that would destroy anything that might try to pass through.

And, with pure enough cyan energy, that includes curses and other spells.

Which was, of course, his end goal.

The flow of pure magic made the glamour over his fingers go slightly transparent, which earned appropriate responses of astonishment. He didn't particularly mind, focusing instead on completely enclosing the SOUL in the protective bubble. Only then did he sit back and stuff his hands into his pockets.

Without him holding it in the visible spectrum, the orange heart simply faded back to where it belonged.

"That was so cool!" Will exclaimed with all the energy he could cram into a near whisper. "And a little creepy, but mostly cool!"

Miles rested a hand on his chest, as if checking that everything was back to normal. "That was so weird feeling."

"told ya."

"Your hand did that thing," continued Will, "like when you put it over a torch and can see the bones!"

Sans chuckled a little, and wondered how they would react if he dropped the glamour entirely. He didn't, of course… but, a little hesitantly, he did pull his hands back out of his pockets. They still weren't entirely solid looking, more like colored glass than skin.

"Woah."

"it's really neato, right?" He wiggled his fingers at them. "no bones about it."

Even as they watched, it was almost like his skin came back into focus. After a minute it was back to being a normal, albeit pale, hand.

Miles blinked, then asked, "So… what'd you do?"

"stuff and things," Sans replied, before turning to Will. "and you're next."

The younger boy scooted a little closer, interested despite the lack of concrete answers. "Okay, but… what was that stuff?"

It was probably too dark for him to have clearly seen the expression Sans made, but Miles guessed well when he preempted, "And don't just say 'magic'."

"fine, fine. it's a shield." As he explained, he reached out to Will's SOUL. "i'm gonna shield all of you. that way i won't have to worry when i leave."

A small blue heart shimmered into visibility, healthy and bright with life. Sans smiled, relieved, and again he gathered cyan light in his hands.

"Is that really my soul?" Will leaned closer. "Why's it blue?"

It was hard to talk and focus at the same time, so Sans didn't answer until the bubble was in place. "means you're honest, will." He almost said 'kiddo' instead, force of habit, but given he currently looked the same age that would be a bit weird.

"And orange?"

"bravery."

Miles shot his brother a smug look, pleased with his trait, and Will rolled his eyes.

Although he was really beginning to feel the effects of all the magic he'd used in the past day, Sans pressed on. He wasn't anywhere near his limit yet, after all, and there were still two more SOULs to shield.

Then maybe he could turn his attention to whatever trouble Sirius might have—or rather, certainly gotten caught up in.

=X=X=X=

After all was said and done, it had taken Sans a good few hours before he got around to figuring out where Sirius and the rest had ended up. Of course, most of that time had been spent keeping watch while the Roberts family finally got some sleep. He was getting pretty tired himself, but keeping them protected from anyone that might want to rip memories out of their skulls was more important.

Figuring out that shield spell trick was really the only reason he left as early as he did—he set it up around all four of them, managing to not disturb the snoozing parents when he shielded them. Then he waited for the boys to fall back asleep, wrote them a note to explain things, and finally bid them a one-sided farewell.

He was perfectly willing to stick with them until the coast was clear, as it were. But, well, he did have other friends he might have to bail out.

And he was really tired, by this point.

Sirius was surprisingly easy to find, once he actually started looking. Though the reason it was so easy was because he was with Harry, and Harry was found just by scanning the area then following where most of the commotion was. It worked like a charm.

The commotion in question had had something to do with a temporarily stolen wand that had been used to cast that big floating skull-with-snake image earlier. And the wand in question was Harry's, because of course it was.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Sirius was actually trying to stay at the fringes of the argument. It was a good choice: disguise or no, he was still a wanted man.

Sans waited for the argument to cool down, then a little bit longer for the people to begin heading off their separate ways. He rejoined them just before they reached their tent. One quick shortcut and he was keeping pace with his friend.

"sup'. anything interesting—"

He was interrupted by a discombobulated mess of surprised noises as Sirius nearly tripped over himself and knocked into Harry. Who, in turn, stumbled into Ron. Luckily the red-head kept his footing, though he still loudly proclaimed his annoyance.

"Sans!"

"Sans?"

"What?"

"guys calm down."

"Calm down?" Sirius demanded. "Where have you been?! You just vanished after the whole… uh," Realizing he probably shouldn't be so loud about this, he was left with gesturing vaguely upwards. "You know…"

Sans shrugged, then yawned. "just keepin' an eye-socket—" He must be more tired than he thought. "er, keeping an eye on some friends."

Sirius frowned slightly, likely catching that slip-up as well. "How are you feeling?"

"ugh, tired."

Looking between the tent and his clearly exhausted friend, Sirius considered his options. Then he turned to his godson. "We should probably get going."

The trio had been silently watching this exchange, feeling very much unsure how to respond to any of it. After all, they knew just who had taken care of the Death Eaters. Even if he did look like a sleepy, harmless kid right now.

Harry swallowed. "You don't mean just back to the tent, do you."

Sirius shook his head.

"Well." He took a breath, then smiled. "Okay. I'll hear from you soon, right?"

"'Course, pup."

Sans yawned again, and was very much thankful that they would be heading home and not just claiming the most comfortable patch of floor in the tent. He closed his eyes, taking the chance to unfocus a little while they said their goodbyes.

He zoned out so completely that he almost didn't notice when Sirius set a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go, lazy-bones."

Sans waved a sleepy farewell. "see ya at school, guys."

Then they were gone.

The shortcut deposited both of them on the front steps, grim Grimmauld looming before them; Sans could probably have taken them directly inside, but he was tired enough that doing so would have significant risk of sending them into a wall or something.

Pushing through the front door and calling out a cheerful greeting to anything that would listen, Sirius took off his colorful jacket and floppy hat to hang up by the entrance. His glamour fell off with the removal of the hat, leaving him looking like himself again.

There was a sound of a door opening somewhere else in the house, and a few seconds later their resident werewolf—looking like he hadn't actually gone to sleep yet, despite wearing pajamas—poked his head around the corner at the top of the stairs.

Remus quirked his head to the side, pointedly looking at the condition their clothes were in. "It was rather exciting, I take it?"

With a half-shrug-half-wave that clearly indicated that Sans was disinterested in explaining, he turned and slumped off to his room, exhausted and sore from all the goings on of the past day. Stopping time, stopping crazy wizards, stopping mind-wipes: it had taken a lot out of him.

Sirius just nodded, and didn't bother with a more detailed answer. It will all be in the news tomorrow, anyway.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

So, remember how last chapter I warned that the next few chapters might be a bit short? Yeah. It seems that wasn't the case for this one. I don't know how this happened, because I really was planning on keeping it short to have time for school stuff.
Anyway, next week is finals for me. Good luck to everyone in the same boat.

Also, AMAZING NEWS! SarcasticBeanie drew some fanart for this story! It looks amazing, and I cannot possibly express how happy it's made me. Links never work on this site, but you can find it at the end of the Ao3 copy of this story.
Thank you so much, SarcasticBeanie! You're the best!

For more fun news, if you wanna see more art I drew a scene from the last chapter to celebrate just passing 900 follows!
It can be found on my deviantART account (same username as here).

Sorry this update was a bit later in the day, I only just finished it up this morning.

Updates on the first of the month.
Thanks to everybody who has read and enjoyed, and I hope you continue to do so!

See ya on the flipside, everyone!