Chapter 17: The interrogation

When Sirius had left Black Manor for work, everyone else had still been asleep – Sterhn included, and the wizard had wondered, perhaps for the first time, where exactly in the manor the house-elf slept. He'd flooed back to his flat, and from there he'd picked up the work things he hadn't gotten to with Juliet and the others in tow. Moreover, though Black Manor had a floo connection to the employee chimneys thanks to Arcturus' status as Lord Black, Sirius didn't want to come back to work through that connection quite yet.

It wouldn't have changed anything, all in all – just the automatic entry in the register documenting all floo connections to the Ministry of Magic – but still. He was an employee who had his own floo connection, thank you very much, and he'd use it as long as it was registered as his own – he wasn't Lord Black visiting, he wasn't there on the Black lord's behalf, so he wasn't using Black Manor's floo chimney.

Maybe he was being a bit stubborn – Circe knew he wasn't usually that procedural.

Anyway.

He got to his desk five minutes before six and no one paid him much attention.

Auror shifts were nine-hours-long, with a one-hour break thrown in the middle whenever they could, and there was a change of teams every three hours. Amongst the ones present in the common space, there were those who'd started working at 9 pm or midnight, too busy trying to stay awake – crossing their fingers hoping no emergencies would pop up – until they could finally go home, and those who'd gotten there three hours prior and didn't look completely awake yet.

Whoever worked the night shifts usually wasn't up for gossiping at 6 o'clock in the morning. They had better things to do than interrogating him on the latest rumors.

James would have, no matter the hour – but James was on a day shift, starting at 9 am. He wouldn't arrive before three more hours, and by then Sirius would probably be away with Smith and Moody.

Those two showed up at his desk with a stack of files as he was finishing yesterday's paperwork, and barely asked him how things had ended after the Black Company – Smith's words – left.

Sirius did catch the look on her face before leaving him to read the files, though.

Then they had to deal with the murders of three muggles that were suspiciously clean of weapon or poison – and therefore most likely owed to a magical interference.

When Sirius slumped back in his seat to take a last few notes before going on a lunch break, the clocks on the far wall of the common space revealed that it was almost a quarter before noon.

"So."

Sirius didn't startle – he rarely did, and it wasn't the first time that particular voice called for his attention without any other form of warning.

James's elbows fell on Sirius' desk before he could even look up.

"Up for lunch?"

"...Isn't it a bit early for Scrimgeour and Sykes to let you out for lunch?"

James gave him a winning smile, and Sirius' eyebrows rose high.

"I annoyed them into letting me go check on you, of course!"

Sirius barked a laugh and stood up.

"Of course you did. Somehow no one ever stays mad at you, I think the annoying bits are even considered part of your charm or something."

"What can I say? We all play to our strengths! For you, I think it's the way anyone can tell you'd tear apart any attacker who'd dare to threaten an innocent that does it. Can't really see the romantic appeal myself, but I guess that's why I'm married and not trying to seduce you out of your pants!"

The two friends made their way to the Ministry mess, Sirius rolling his eyes.

"Right. It got nothing to do with my good looks and abundance of galleons."

James nodded, unconcerned that it didn't entirely work with the words his best friend had just said.

"That helps, too. But it doesn't exactly keep most people's attention past the first dates, you see. Not the people you'd care about, at least."

"Do I need to remind you that my only experience with dating lasted about three weeks? What part of that fact leads you to think anyone ever had to move past basic physical attraction?"

Sirius scrunched his nose a little at these words – he'd never really understood what people meant when they said it was all "physical" in some cases, but he still knew how to work with it when someone looked like they wanted to eat him – somehow – and he needed something from them.

Himself, he, at most, merely thought someone was nice-looking in a passing way at best, so he couldn't really see what all the fuss was about.

Merlin, he would never get the memory of Narcissa angsting over Malfoy as Rabastan Lestrange hovered behind the then-young man during Bellatrix' engagement party out of his mind. That love – lust? – triangle had been... unnerving to watch.

Anyway. Physical attraction, for him, was barely an unexpected tingle he got every now and again, easily overlooked or ignored. He had other things to worry about, even before eighteen children appeared out of nowhen for him to take care of.

They entered the mess – still relatively empty, two dozen people maybe – and James bounced towards the food counter.

"Hmm, but that's because you don't give them a chance, not because no one is interested in giving it a try! You do have a handful of blood children waiting for you with your grandparents, don't you? I explicitly remember filing Statements of Existence that required a mother's name yesterday."

"I..."

James flashed a smile at the cook keeping the food appropriately cold or hot with her wand while her colleague was preparing more stew behind the counter. The elderly witch raised an amused eyebrow and watched as they let go of two lunch tokens.

Two trays with cutlery appeared on the large table to her left.

James served himself a bowl of soup and a humongous amount of bread, while Sirius went for the mashed potatoes and sausage slices.

"...You are going to need more soup, unless you intend to use it as a topping for your bread?"

Sirius wasn't even joking – he'd seen some things on James' plate over their years at Hogwarts, he was almost certain none of it had been intended to be eaten that way.

His friend grinned and took one more slice of bread.

"Anyway, I asked Lily about her cousin."

Sirius groaned.

"You didn't..."

They found a table for two in a corner and sat down, which prevented James from answering long enough – as he carefully deposited his mountain of bread without letting it fall down – that Sirius started worrying about what exactly his friend had told his wife.

He was not looking for a date, thank you very much.

...Lily would have more sense than to let James try and make something happen considering the circumstances, and since James had no way to contact – what was it, Iris? no, wait – Rose Evans without his wife's cooperation...

"I just asked questions! Like, I learned that Rose, the other Evans, is a bit older than us, twenty-two. She's studying to be a fore... a pathologist of some kind? Basically muggles cut up dead people to find out what killed them in some cases. Sounds a bit grisly, but I guess someone has to do it?"

The face James made was a little funny, especially considering he was currently stuffing his bowl of soup with as much bread as possible without making it overflow.

Sirius focused back on his own plate before too many questions about James' eating habits could come up. He'd never gotten any real answer to those.

"So she basically wants to be a mortificier, but the muggle kind. We're trying to make a career out of stalking psychopaths and investigating murderers, occasionally getting in fights with them too. We aren't exactly in a place to comment."

James stopped pushing at his soup-soaked bread-mush for a moment.

"Mortificiers don't cut people open!"

Sirius took the time to eat a sausage slice before answering, dryly:

"Fore-something pathologists don't seem to, either, from what you've told me. They likely stick to cadavers, not live individuals."

James huffed.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Sirius!"

"You're the one who continued Muggle Studies after our OWLs, mate, so use your muggle understanding for a second. Mortificiers don't have to cut open dead people most of the time because they have spells and magical items that allow them not to, but muggles can't use those. They found an alternative, apparently, and that's impressive enough."

Sirius would have liked to continue Muggle Studies, in fact – he'd gotten an E and could definitely advance into NEWTs class – but he had had to make a choice between that and Care of Magical Creatures, his parents had been hovering, and he'd wanted to try the Alchemy class. Something had had to give.

He'd also figured it would be easier to get knowledge on muggles than on alchemy after Hogwarts – you just had to step out of wizarding spaces and actually try to understand what was going on from a muggle's point of view.

James almost whined – except he had a soup-soaked slice of bread stuffed in his mouth, and the sound came out very wrong:

"You're only saying that because you don't mind dead bodies and, uh, basic morals. I get that they don't have another choice, but still. Dead people should get to keep what's left of their body in the best state possible."

"And they should get not to be murdered, but life sucks. Between keeping their dead bodies in one piece and seeing their killer arrested, I know which one seems the most important to me."

James aggressively stuffed another slice of bread in his mouth, but didn't try to push more.

It wasn't like he disagreed with Sirius, then – only that he thought sentences like "life sucks" only meant life wasn't trying hard enough.

Sirius wasn't certain how anyone could be that naively idealistic and judgmental, but that was James for you – forever defying what his friends considered humanly possible.

"Anyway. How is it going with the patriarch?"

Ah, there it was. The interrogation about yesterday.

Sirius winced.

"Not too bad, honestly. We stare at each other and occasionally there's hissing too, but so far Grandfather hasn't been a pain. Might be my grandmother's influence, but overall he's... alright. I mean, of course he's still a blood purist, but I haven't even seen one hint of blood snobbishness so far, which is better than what I expected."

He'd expected barely-hidden blood extremism, so. Much better than expected.

He could get along – well enough to keep it civil and develop something akin to a conditional friendship – with blood purists, if they didn't diss his own convictions. It didn't mean he'd ever agree with them – but he could live with prejudice that had little to no consequences.

James made a face, as expected.

"Ugh, purists. I don't know how you stand them."

Sirius contained a laugh.

Oh, James certainly didn't know. The result of growing in a tolerant, equalitarian household of Gryffindors, surely. No close example of anyone somewhat alright except for their mild beliefs amongst his acquaintances. The closest relative with questionable family beliefs James had was Dorea, his aunt by alliance – and for a Black, Dorea was supremely unconcerned with all matters of blood. She'd married a pureblood, true, but that was more a matter of shared life experience and a lack of exposure to muggles in general than an actual concern for her.

The Potters, you understand – and there Mother's disdain had been almost tangible – are more old blood than purebloods. Of course, they currently are pureblooded, but every other generation one of them marries outside of our blood and taints the whole bloodline, and the women they marry often come from families with the same... tendencies. Your friend, the youngest Potter... One of his great-grandmothers was a mudblood, do you realize?! And Jonah Potter married one too, last century, it was a right scandal at the time.

The horror.

Anyway. Sirius had learned long ago that very few people shared the exact same principles you held, and you had to compromise. Hell, even James and Remus and Peter didn't believe exactly the same things he did – that there wasn't always a better solution, for James, that the ends justified the means, for Remus, that fear was an explanation but not an excuse, for Peter – and yet they were still friends, weren't they?

James, on the other hand, had never quite grasped the consequences of that truth. For him, there was one good way, and you should walk it perfectly and without doubts or false beliefs, or you weren't good enough – and you deserved anything done to you.

"Eh. If they aren't openly discriminating anyone, I can ignore the less-than-agreeable or downright-nonsensical thoughts going through their heads. Do you realize, my grandfather basically offered to help me proceed with Juliet's adoption, and not just as my daughter, but also as a family member?"

James's eyebrows rose high.

"On that matter, the kids? The others, Juliet? How are they?"

Sirius hesitated – he wasn't sure of how to actually describe any of what he'd seen from the children, and he hadn't seen a lot from each of them. They were, after all, numerous, and except for Juliet – who was very reserved – he didn't know any of them. Just because most felt like he should know them didn't mean he'd suddenly found out everything there was to know about them.

"I... Well. No one started crying in the middle of dinner, so I guess that's that. Aside from that..."

Orion – not Dad – was definitely having a hard time understanding what was going on, and Sirius had little doubt that it was true for the others amongst the youngest. He hadn't talked to Aldebaran or Shivansh yet, not really, but they were only eleven.

Juliet had taken temporary residency in Sirius' bedroom, too, with a small child bed Sterhn had helped put next to the window – they hadn't thought about her when Grandmother had orchestrated the whole bedroom-claiming parade, and even at the flat Juliet had a difficult time sleeping alone because of her nightmares.

It was perhaps a good thing, overall: even for all the other children Sirius had gotten, not everything had changed for her. He'd been thinking of ways to acclimate her to having her own bedroom again, so that was still an issue – but nothing new.

"I'd say they are taking it better than expected. We found out a few tidbits along the way, like the matter of my brother's grandchildren or the fact that Diana Exeter married Evan Rosier of all people, but, nothing overly important. Even those might be entirely impossible in our reality, since we don't actually know what is different about us and everything else in their worlds, so..."

James only blinked at the news of Regulus Black's spawns – and blinked again about Exeter and Rosier, which was probably a fair assessment of the potential situation: what in hell?

No point asking Sirius, though – his friend didn't seem to know much more than that, that was the whole point of this discussion: they didn't know.

There were questions closer to home, and maybe Sirius had gotten some things on that front.

"...And what about you? About the... the other yous, I mean?"

"Complicated. I'm having doubts about one of them actually caring about blood purity, and I upset one of the triplets because I was brutally honest about not knowing the children at all and therefore not trusting them yet, not like their fathers. The kids are unequally familiar with Black Manor and the family in general, which I don't know how to take either. It's all a bit..."

"Hello there, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. May I have a moment of your time, Mister Black?8"

A young witch – older than Sirius and James, but not that much – slipped with a blinding smile into a third seat that had definitely not been there last time James had looked.

James threw a glance at his friend – you could physically see him close off, if you knew him.

Oh, Sirius still smiled at the woman – but there was little depth to it, barely any politeness either.

"Not really, but do I have a choice?"

The woman's own smile widened as she ignored his question – and only then did James notice the notepad in her hands and the small magenta quill she started twirling.

"Wonderful! You see, Mister Black, my partner in writing is currently in a rendez-vous with Lord Black, speaking of the wondrous happenings of yesterday morning, so I, of course, set to find the other important wizard in this story as soon as I could: you."

Sirius was holding onto his fork with both feigned nonchalance and what looked to James like the hope he'd get to stab the journalist should she tread too forcefully into such dangerous waters.

It was like watching a manticore and a chimaera eyeing each other to determine who'd pounce first.

James' own smile was a bit bemused, but the two others at the table likely didn't even notice.

The witch continued, her quill hovering still over her notepad, ready to write down anything her victim, sorry, her interviewee would give her – willingly or not:

"What can you tell us on the matter of those children of yours? Ages, interests, school houses? Maybe we could schedule a photoshoot, I'm sure our readers would love to know more about the newest Blacks in our community!"

Before she could cram in another question – was she trying to overwhelm Sirius, perhaps, in the hopes that he'd let something escape? – James' friend was raising his fork against his jaw – weird move, but that got the journalist to shut up for a moment, so knowing Sirius, it had been calculated.

"I do have to wonder, Miss Skeeter, as to how you know about any of this, if you aren't yourself at the meeting with my grandfather. Especially as he wouldn't let anyone out of said meeting until it was dealt with unless there was a fire going on in the building."

That... raised a valid question.

The witch's eyes were still stuck on the pointy ends of the fork – right next to Sirius' jawline, too, maybe that was what she was staring at, actually – but James noticed her twitching, an aborted movement of the head. She had a weirdly misty pearl earring on that side – but not on the other ear.

Whether Sirius had noticed too would remain unsaid for now, though, as James' friend asked, maliciously enough – with raised eyebrows and fake concern, too:

"Did you put the Daily Prophet office on fire, Miss Skeeter?"

James chose to join in, with appropriate severity – as if there was an actual chance that the journalist who had invited herself had started a fire at her job. Which was, of course, ridiculous.

"I understand wanting to get away from Arcturus Black, Miss Skeeter, I truly do, but arson is a criminal offense and you should know that."

The witch blinked at them both, momentarily stunned and unable to come up with an answer to such blatantly untrue accusations – except they hadn't actually accused her of anything, Sirius had simply asked if she'd done it and James had continued on with a remainder about a true matter of law. It didn't quite make it into being an accusation.

Sirius smiled at her – again, still, and with an edge sharp enough to slice through anyone's defences.

"Of course, arson isn't usually our jurisdiction..."

He gestured at the trainee uniforms they both wore that day...

"...But the law is the law, and we would make it a point to escort you to the Magestigation Center to deal with that confession of yours, wouldn't we, James?"

The two friends shared a nod of agreement – and connivance, but shhh, don't say it out loud – as if they completely agreed with the other on the matter of pushing for the arrest of one Rita Skeeter.

The witch finally squinted, and her own smile became more obviously faked.

"Ah, of course, Black humor. I almost shared a dorm with your older cousin, Mister Black. I do not scare so easily, and your threats..."

James gasped comically.

"Threats? What threats? I didn't hear Sirius make any promise of assault or pressure, did he?"

Sirius tutted, and shook his head, looking pained.

"I certainly didn't, Miss Skeeter, not unless you did put your employer's office on fire, and then that would hardly be unwarranted, would it? Those were no threats."

James nodded.

"Merely intimidation."

"We wouldn't threaten upstanding citizens, now, would we? Intimidation, on the other hand, is an absolutely proper and civil manner of addressing unknown people barging into your meal with unwelcome questions. Much more respectable, really."

"And we are nothing but respectable, Miss Skeeter, I assure you."

James finished their shared tirade with an honest, brilliant smile.