Chapter 21

Grimmauld Place was—ironically enough—no longer at all grim.

Albus had assured me that the house was thoroughly searched and scoured in the years following Sirius's release. Unlike in the original timeline, the cleaning efforts were not carried out in secret but with the aid of professionals trained in dealing with infestations of dark magic.

Thankfully, most of the layers of security were left intact allowing the house to once more be the headquarters of the Order. Once it was placed under the protection of the Fidelius Charm, anyway.

As Sirius led me to my room among the upper floors I examined the walls I passed. Where once they had been dirty, peeling and 'decorated' with various relics of the Black family history, the walls were now clean, whole and coloured a pleasant shade of pink with gold-coloured edgings. I quite liked it, though I preferred my flat.

"And here's your room," Sirius said, stopping to open one door and flamboyantly gesture inside. Harry's godfather was in a better place mentally and emotionally than he had been originally, something that showed in the occasional flairs of humour other than sarcasm. I smiled in thanks and stepped past him, withdrawing my luggage from my coat pocket.

My assigned bedroom in Grimmauld Place was almost half the total size of my own flat, much to my dismay. I had a window overlooking the square outside covered by clean white curtains. The floor was made of dark, wooden boards that felt warm to the touch while the walls were covered in rose-patterned wallpaper. The bed itself was king-sized with a canopy, all done out in shades of red and gold.

I also had a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a desk—complete with a comfortable chair—all picked out in the same shade of wood. I set my luggage down on the floor with a smile and set it to the task of unpacking itself with a tap of my wand.

"Thank you, Mr Black," I said, turning back to my host. "This looks quite comfortable. Far moreso than my own place, to be honest."

Sirius laughed, a loud barking sound.

"Say what you will about my family, but they knew how to live in comfort. When I moved back in I upgraded even further, so it can be quite swanky. Definitely a step up from Azkaban I assure you." Sirius gestured expansively as he talked, carefully masking the hate that had shone momentarily at the mention of his family. He was still hurting, that was for certain, but he was healing. It was a good sign, I hoped. "Incidentally, if I recall our last meeting correctly, you're rather good with security spells?"

"I like to think so, why do you ask?"

"Well, as sound as the house is, I don't feel entirely comfortable relying on my dear father's protections. Dumbledore has given the place the all-clear, but..." He shrugged.

"But you'd rather be safe than sorry?" I guessed. I actually suspected the real reason was a combination of being less reliant on his family's legacy and wanting to find some grounds with which to interact with me.

"Exactly!" Sirius smiled again, more lightly this time. "But let's talk about this downstairs. To the kitchen, perhaps? I doubt you've had a chance to eat yet."

I acquiesced gladly—to my stomach's relief—and followed him back down the stairs.

This time, as we trekked through the house, I examined the hallways with a different purpose in mind. Rather than looking at where the previous ornamentation wasn't, I looked with an eye to how I may go about adding security features. Various Dark Detectors at regular intervals to start with of course, but the hallways were carpet, which presented an opportunity to place some of what I considered to be a magical cross between a pressure pad and a land mine.

There were occasional alcoves in the hallways that I imagined might once have held vertical display cabinets or maybe statues. Now they could potentially hold statues bewitched to come to life in defence of the house on command. That could be a hard sell to Sirius, however. Setting that aside, I began to think on what spells could be put on the perimeter and broached the topic to my host.

By the time we reached the kitchen, I was in the middle of explaining one of the more interesting spells I'd put on my own flat, one that linked two portals on opposing sides of a building—such as windows or doors—such that unauthorised entrances through one would step straight out of the other. For best effect, it should deposit them from a higher level and let them land in some kind of pre-prepared trap. In the case of my flat, intruders were dumped out of my bedroom window into a tub of water that froze solid upon someone landing in it. It only really worked properly the first time, but the principle was sound.

Sirius laughed uproariously at that idea, drawing a glare from Kreacher as he scuttled in with a tray of sandwiches.

"Merlin's beard... You have met Mad Eye already, right?" Sirius eventually managed to gasp out.

"Indeed I have," I said, trying not to be too embarrassed at the older wizard's amusement. "He had some very good pointers. We had a good discussion about how to properly conceal more, ah, active defences. I believe he applied some of the techniques I suggested to his dustbins."

"Only Mad Eye would rig his dustbins to attack people wandering onto his lawn," Sirius remarked, still grinning while swinging back on his chair.

"Well, to be fair, it isn't actually a bad idea. Dustbins are ubiquitous enough that even a wary intruder is unlikely to give them a second glance. Moreover, they have sufficient size to be an effective brute-force deterrent and have the added bonus of creating a racket in the process. A simultaneous attack on an intruder and an alarm to notify the owner."

Sirius swung the front two legs back onto the ground. He was still grinning but seemed to be keeping better control of it now.

"I stand corrected then. Clearly, there're two of you that would come up with an idea like that."

I just sighed and selected a ham and cheese sandwich from the tray, nodding thanks at the house elf, who summarily ignored me as much as Sirius was ignoring him. While Sirius's treatment of Kreacher was far from ideal, it was a good sight better than being verbally and physically abusive, as he had in the original timeline.

"Fine, fine," Sirius chuckled after I glared at him for a few minutes whilst I ate. "I guess you're more than entitled to a touch of paranoia considering what happened to your place. While I still don't particularly care for this house, I like the sound of some of your ideas. What do you say we get to work after this?"

"Getting restless?" I asked, one brow arched. Truthfully, I could sympathise. I'd never been able to go long without finding something new to pour some time and effort into. Being cooped up in a house like this on-call for the Order after so many years in Azkaban... Shoring up the house defences was the least I could do to help keep him busy.

"Just a bit." Sirius smiled like he was joking, but I had my suspicions.

"Alright then. You've got a lot more space here than in my own place and I've got some fun ideas I want to try."

I took a few minutes to polish off the rest of the sandwiches then I stood, Sirius echoing me. I drew my wand and good feel a smile etching itself across my face. Perhaps Sirius wasn't the only one who was a bit restless. And the prospect of further fortifying the townhouse really did sound quite fun.

—tN—tN—tN—

"What's it like, to fly? As a bird, I mean. I've used brooms, motorbikes and even a flying carpet before, but never as a bird."

Sirius and I were very different people in many ways. So much of his personality had never moved on from his rebellious teenager phase—not helped by the decade in the company of depression-inducing demons—that he had difficulty coming up with activities or conversation topics that weren't rooted in some desire to spite his parents.

When he wasn't busy doing work for Dumbledore, we talked about magic and the war, swapping stories about Hogwarts and its various secrets. Those were safe subjects, ones we were both knowledgeable on—albeit from different perspectives—and willing to debate with. Every now and then though, Sirius would ask some other question that was on his mind.

"It's... easy in one way and more work in another," I said. "I've never felt at home on a broomstick, not really, but when I take my other form... Flying becomes the easiest thing in the world. It's like finally learning how to walk properly after a life spent walking on your hands. Except not really, because humans can't fly by themselves but I can't think of a closer metaphor..."

"No, I get it," Sirius said, nodding. "I'm an Animagus too, remember? I know what it's like to slip into another shape and have everything flipped around. Of course, I can't fly so I can't compare with your specific experience, hence the question."

"Fair enough."

The conversation petered out as I returned to my work and Sirius to his book. Grimmauld Place was quite expansive for a townhouse but we tended to gravitate to the kitchen when we were at a loss. It was more homely than the rest of the house, even with the renovations removing the worst of the Blacks' influence. At present, I had many sheets and scrolls of parchment spread across the table in front of me.

With my shop's destruction, my business had switched entirely to a mail-order service. For obvious reasons, I wasn't in a position to create figurines and enchanted boards, but the books only needed to be ordered from the printers. The problem was that at this point people were using them more as reference guides for real life rather than for a game. While I'd made sure when writing them that they could serve that purpose, I was taking the opportunity to make a dedicated set of guides for practical self-defence. Most of the work had already been done, I just needed to edit it and insert some real-life specific advice. And some sections had to be created from scratch wholesale.

It was a big job and I had time on my hands, so I kept at it, occasionally bouncing questions off of Sirius. My work was disrupted, however, by a rare visitor that afternoon.

—tN—tN—tN—

"Wotcher, folks!" The grey-haired elderly lady at the front door's identity was revealed by her casual greeting. Tonks reverted to a more familiar visage of a purple-haired girl once in the entranceway while Kingsley made a more sedate entrance behind her. "You made some changes, didn't you? Stuff looks different like they've been shuffled around. And you've got stuff hidden there, and there, and there. New security?"

"Quite," I said, shutting the door and relocking it with a wave of my wand. "Though I will note that you missed more than half of the different detectors I've put up for deceit or Dark magic. I'll have to rehide those ones now as well before Moody comes to do an inspection. Thanks for the help!"

"Uh... Sure, no problem. You're really taking the security on this place seriously, aren't you? I mean, we're already under a Fidelius Charm, right?"

"Fidelius Charms are powerful but not infallible," Kingsley said, his deep voice brooking no introductions. "Even with a wizard as capable and trustworthy as Dumbledore as the Secret Keeper, there are other ways in which the protection can be subverted by a determined enemy.

"The Imperius curse and memory charms can turn otherwise trusted people into sleepers, ready to act once inside the house. Skilled impersonation, an art that you are quite familiar with, can hoodwink even Dumbledore into releasing the secret to unsavoury individuals. I have seen the plans that Poe had for this house and they should close off those few holes left in the defences. If they are effective, that is."

"We've been testing them as well as we can for the past few days," I said, rubbing my arm where one of those tests had left bruises. "In between finishing the remodelling and duelling practice, that is."

"Duelling with Sirius, huh?" Tonks said, looking towards me and nearly walking into a standing case. "What's that like? I mean, I've heard you're no slouch, but Sirius has a lot of experience."

"Not as much as you'd think," I countered. "He has spent about a decade of his life in Azkaban, leaving him with only a few more years of experience as an adult wizard than me. We're actually pretty evenly matched, much to his irritation. I'm not sure why he's so surprised, he did teach me for my NEWTs."

"Sirius has been busy making up for lost time since his release," Kinglsey said, lowering his voice to a faint rumble. "While he has been undergoing therapy, he's been spending almost as much time honing his magical skills back to his previous level. I understand even Dumbledore helped him through the early stages."

Giving Sirius remedial lessons in magic after his release and pardon had been my idea. Since no good deed goes unpunished, most of my bruises—spread across my lower back and right leg—were the product of sparring with Sirius. I consoled myself with the knowledge that Sirius had definitely been limping afterwards and kept bumping into objects. Targeting his eyes was a bit of a low-blow, but it'd wear off within a day and—more importantly—I'd already bewitched my own glasses to protect me.

"Turn left up here to get to the kitchen," I said, catching Kingsley before he could go the wrong way. He blinked at me, confused.

"It wasn't that way before. Did you move the kitchen around?"

"No, just the path taken. I'll explain it later, just be aware that navigating the house is a little different now. Oh, and in the event of an invasion, the intruders will be caught in repeating sections of corridor until they find a way to break the spell. It's quite fun, actually. And we managed to fit in some pitfalls on the upper floors in case they get that far."

"You're really paranoid after what happened to your shop, aren't you?" Tonks said, bemused as I listed the new tricks I'd placed on Grimmauld Place.

"You have no idea." I made sure to keep smiling the rest of the way to the kitchen.

—tN—tN—tN—

"How has your summer been so far, Harry?" I asked. I'd taken my usual seat at the breakfast table only to realise that I was opposite from Harry, who must have arrived during the night. He was focused on his own breakfast, so I fixed myself a bowl of porridge before trying a conversation.

"My summer's been pretty good so far. My family were a bit upset at having to go under so many spells for their own safety, but they got over it eventually. It's been pretty quiet apart from that, just me, Hedwig and an auror checking in on me each day. How about you?"

"My shop was attacked by Death Eaters," I said, waving my wand to clean up the toast Harry had spat halfway across the table. "Came in while I was sleeping and set the place on fire once they figured out I'd already left. It didn't burn much of course, I take my fire safety seriously. I've lost all my stock and will have a tonne of repairs to do though. But they didn't get at my workshop or anything valuable, so I'm fine."

"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't know," Harry said, stuttering over his own attempts to apologise. I waved a dismissal.

"No need. It's not your fault and besides, I'm fine. We knew there was a chance I'd be a target after what happened in Hogsmeade, so we were ready for it. I'm just grateful that the attack came at night rather than when I was dealing with a bunch of customers as well."

"Ah, I see then." We ate in silence for a few minutes before Harry broke the quiet.

"So, what have you been up to since then?"

"Well, I came straight here after I left Whimsik—that's the Alley my flat's in—and met Sirius. Since then I've been helping to put the finishing touches on the house. Sirius didn't want to be too reliant on the protection that came with it you know, so we've been bouncing ideas around for the past while. Even Moody was impressed, last time he visited. Well, I think he was impressed, it's hard to tell with him."

"Moody?" Harry asked. I was confused for a moment before realising that Harry hadn't actually met Moody in person yet, due to being unconscious after Voldemort's resurrection. In the original timeline, he didn't even meet the imposter-Moody until he started his fourth-year.

"Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody. A very experienced, very paranoid, ex-auror. Was a member of the original Order of the Phoenix during the first war and brought a lot of Death Eaters before the Wizengamot. He trained Tonks as well, I think."

"Tonks?"

"Sirius's cousin. She graduated the year before you started at Hogwarts and went straight into auror training. Almost finished her training now, I believe. I'd give even odds that she was several of the aurors that were assigned to check on you if not all of them. She's a Metamorphmagus, you see. She can change her appearance at will."

"Is that like being an Animagus?" Harry asked, rubbing one finger over his scar. Even if it would no longer pain him, I could understand wanting to hide it. Although that begged the question of whether or not it would be possible to remove the scar now that the Horcrux had been expelled? It was still the product of dark magic, so it might not be... I decided to raise the topic with Dumbledore. Then I realised that I'd been staring into space for the last while, much to Harry's consternation.

"No, it's not like being an Animagus at all," I said, coughing to hide my embarrassment. "Anyone can become an Animagus with study and patience, but you have to be born a Metamorphmagus. They're very rare too, which is part of what makes Tonks special. Believe me, I've checked and double-checked. There's no learnable skill like it outside of particularly old and dubious records. I did a paper on the subject for my Transfiguration NEWT."

"Ah, nevermind then." Harry went back to eating and I winced internally. I'd messed up somehow.

The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of Sirius. Harry and his godfather instantly struck up a conversation about broomsticks and I let myself fade into the background.

Why were conversations so hard to get right?