Hello everyone. It's been… quite some time. Almost two years. I hope everyone's been keeping sane. Requests for one-shots in this 'verse are always accepted.
Harry stuck his hand out, shoving all of his self-doubt behind the thick walls Uncle Bob had taught him how to build a week ago. "Hello, Mr. Black, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said, rather stiffly.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, glancing between everyone in the group, and back to Harry, before smiling softly. "Harry, please, Mr. Black was my father. Call me Sirius. It's been quite some time since I've seen you." He murmurs, stepping close to give Harry a small hug. "Introduce me to your surrogate family?"
Harry straightens up now, willing the warm feeling in his chest to be locked up and saved for a rainy day. "Sirius, this is my mom, Sarah Connor. My brother, John. And… Uncle Bob, as John and I apparently called him." He introduces, pointing to each person in turn. Sarah and John shake Sirius' hand, but Bob just stares briefly before nodding stiffly. He's getting better, Harry thinks. Two weeks ago, he would've just stared, until the other person would ask what's wrong with him.
"Are you ready for your trial?" Bob asks. Even with all of their combined knowledge, no one can place his accent. Bob doesn't know either.
Sirius nods. "Evidence is gathered, witnesses prepped, lawyer confident. Ready as I'll ever be." He explains, glancing back to the busy courtroom just a doorway away. There's a pair of Aurors just outside their room, and several teams guarding the courtroom, because of all the riots Sirius' innocence ignited. The public demanded to know why this happened, how did it go on for so long, if the head of an ancient and noble house gets thrown in jail with no trial, what can happen to me?
"Lord Black, we're ready for you." A new voice calls out. The group turns as one, and Sirius grimaces.
"That's my lawyer. You lot better get seated, and hopefully, we'll all walk out of this courtroom together."
"A free man, Sirius. What do you want to do first?" Sarah asks. They're safely tucked away behind the wards of Grimmauld Place- well, as safe as you can be in a house of the Black family- eating together and planning.
Bob doesn't eat, he explained one day. His energy is all internal, nothing in or out. He doesn't require sunlight, or batteries, or recharge time. But he can die.
Sirius pauses his hand bringing up another forkful, and thinks for a moment. "Get this house cleaned up. Merlin, it's bad in here. Kreacher!" He calls out. With a quiet pop, a small, humanoid figure appears near the table. He- Harry assumes they're male- is hunched over in a dirty towel/toga outfit, large ears pinned back in what is obviously distaste.
"Bad master calls?" He hisses. Sirius grimaces, before steeling his resolve.
"Kreacher, as you may know, I've been released from Azkaban. The years I've been there do not excuse the state this house is in. What would Walburga think? It's filthy, ridden with dust mites and doxies- honestly!" He rants, gesturing around with his fork. Kreacher sneers.
"Bad master thinks Kreacher does nothing, but bad master brings in filthy muggles, and mudbloods, and-" Here, Kreacher stops. Harry glances up to see him staring at Bob, wide-eyed and obviously confused. After a moment, Kreacher pops away, and they can all hear the faint sounds of cleaning coming from the top floor.
"House elves have always found terminators intimidating. They never know what to do around them." Bob explains, one eyebrow ticked up ever-so-slightly. It's a start, Harry thinks.
"It's better than him just muttering about doing what he's supposed to," Sirius grumbles, throwing a thankful look at Bob before they return to their food.
"Kreacher." Bob speaks up one day, not long after they've settled into Number 12. "Bring the necklace your previous master left with you." He pauses. "Please."
Kreacher's already wide eyes widen further, his gray cheeks paling to a mottled white. The house elf glances back and forth between Bob and Sirius, as if unsure what to do, but Sirius cuts in before Kreacher can speak up.
"Do as he says, Kreacher. He knows how to officially destroy it now." Kreacher hunches in on himself slightly, before finally popping away for a moment. He pops back in, holding the silver necklace they sought. Bob holds his hand out, and waits.
"Good master commanded Kreacher to destroy this." Kreacher croaks, unwilling to part with the last thing Regulus gave him, but unable to ignore his current master's command.
"And this is us, destroying it, Kreacher." Sirius replies. "Bob explained everything to me, and you can watch us destroy it. Now, give it to him." With that final, direct command, Kreacher places the necklace in Bob's gloved hand reluctantly, and steps back. Bob closes his hand over it, clutching it tight, and turns to Sirius.
"We will need to go to the basement, as it has the most heavily warded room. I will step into the safety ward, you will cast Fiendfyre on the necklace, and you will step out of the safety ward. You will not enter the ward until the Fiendfyre is gone." Bob's voice is still almost emotionless, but losing it's monotony.
Sirius nods, and glances down to Kreacher, who nods as well. They make their way down to the basement, locking the main door and the door to the summoning room behind them. Kreacher stays near the door, but Sirius and Bob both cross the circle carved into the floor, causing it to flare to life and create a dome over their heads. "I will require a pot of cold water after this is done." Bob says, and Kreacher pops away to bring a bucket of water, leaving it just outside the summoning circle. Bob goes to the middle of the circle, necklace still clenched in his right hand, while Sirius stays right at the edge, wand clutched tightly in his own hand.
"Run me through this one more time, please?" Sirius requests, nerves obviously getting to him. Bob ticks an eyebrow up, but responds.
"Once you cast Fiendfyre, you need to flick it onto the necklace. The curse will seek out the soul within the pendant, burning it and the necklace away. Since it will find no other accessible living soul, it will dissipate. My fake skin will be burned away, and my metal endoskeleton will need to be submerged in water to prevent permanent damage."
Sirius nods one more time, takes a deep breath, and raises his wand arm.
"Fiendfyre."
Out of his wand pours a living flame, white-hot and angry. Sirius quickly flicks it at Bob's right hand, and backs out of the summoning circle, giving the flame no other fuel source than the necklace. The curse quickly takes the shape of a falcon, flying talon-first into the necklace. With an other-wordly screech of soul and fire, a piece of Voldemort's soul dies.
But the fire-falcon doesn't fade.
Perched on Bob's hand, the curse remains, tilting its head from Kreacher, to Sirius, before dismissing them as being too far, before turning to Bob. Bob ticks both eyebrows up now, as surprised as he's ever been, before the fire-falcon finally screeches and dissipates.
"Water, now." Sirius shakes himself from his stupor, and slides the bucket of water to Bob. The Terminator dunks his hand into the water, the sudden steam filling up the room quickly.
Once the steam fades, Bob is standing up once more, studying his burnt hand. The fake skin is gone from tip to wrist, as was expected, but Sirius had never seen his endoskeleton. Rapidly cooling metal shines under the low light of the summoning circle's protective dome, so very alien to anything Sirius has ever seen. He glances down to the floor, sees the mixture of molten silver, burnt fake skin, and a single, untouched emerald, and shudders.
"No damage," Bob murmurs, finally turning to the other two in the room. Kreacher is terrified, but relieved. "Your task is done." The house elf nods, and pops out. Bob steps out of the circle, and the dome fades.