The familiar sensation of having his entire body sucked through his belly button faded and Remus once again opened his eyes. "Ugh," he said. "I'm too old for two portkeys in quick succession."
Sirius leaned over, hands on his knees. "I'll argue with you about us being old as soon as the room stops spinning."
"Good afternoon," a woman's voice said. Remus looked up and into the concerned eyes of a witch on the high side of middle age. Her hair was drawn up in a bun and animated black cats chased grey mice across her off-white robes. "Are you alright?"
"Give us a minute, love," Sirius said. "We've just come a long way."
"My goodness!" she said. "It certainly sounds like you have. Did you come directly from the UK?"
"Our international portkey dropped us off in New York," Remus said. "We took another straight here."
"I imagine you need a moment to catch your breath," she said, "but you should probably do that off the arrival platform. Can I help you to a bench?"
Remus waved her off and linked arms with Sirius. "Thank you, but I think we can make it," he said. The two of them staggered over to one of the wooden benches placed helpfully against a wall near the arrival platform.
"Welcome to Buffalo," the witch said. "My name is Angela Dobbs, and I'm afraid we don't get many visitors from abroad. What brings you to our fair city?"
Before Remus could answer, a portkey deposited a dark-skinned man on the arrival platform. He staggered for a moment before straightening up to his full six-foot height and shaking his head, sending his dreadlocks whirling around his head. "I hate those," he said as he hopped off the platform.
"Tell us about it," Sirius said.
"Another visitor?" Dobbs asked.
"Indeed," the man said, "but I'm not exactly here on my own." He strode up to Sirius and Remus and bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you gents. I'm Ellison Drake from the New York Ghost. It's not often the US gets such illustrious guests as yourselves, and I thought I'd tag along and write a feature piece on what you're finding of interest here in our country."
Remus had to stifle a growl at the reporter, but Sirius gave a hearty laugh that would have sounded convincing to anyone who hadn't known him since he was a child.
"We're just here to cause trouble, mate," Sirius said, "but you're welcome to come with."
"Illustrious?" Dobbs asked.
"I'm not sure I'd go that far." Sirius pushed himself back to his feet as he spoke. "My name is Sirius, and this is my husband Remus."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dobbs said.
"And it's our honour," Drake said, "to welcome the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to our shores, to say nothing of Harry Potter's adopted family."
The woman's eyebrows shot up. "You're a lord and you raised Harry Potter?"
Remus fought down a sigh while Sirius bowed. "Guilty as charged," he said. "In fact, we're here for him. The poor kid's been down in the dumps since he got back from helping in Indonesia. He's not even going to the pub anymore!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," Drake said, not looking sorry at all.
"We couldn't let that stand," Sirius said, "so we decided to bring the pub to him. We've already collected some of the best beer in the Isles to bring him, along with a selection of fine pub grub under stasis charms. He loves Buffalo Wings, though, and I didn't want to get my boy any less than the absolute best."
Remus leaned toward Drake and whispered, "That Sirius also loves Buffalo Wings may have something to do with this plan."
"Who can say?" Sirius gave an exaggerated shrug. "Regardless, I am on a quest for my godson and I will not be denied." He grinned. "Wouldst thou, noble scribe, wish to join us?"
The reporter's smile grew predatory and Remus fought the urge to raise his eyebrows. He had a bad feeling Padfoot was going to end up in the doghouse for this plan regardless of how successful it was.
Drake wrinkled his nose and looked around the restaurant. "So this is the famous Anchor Bar?"
"That's what the sign on the door said," Sirius responded as they made their way to a plain table with cheap chairs.
"Here's the plan," Remus said. "We're going to hang out here and order beer and Buffalo Wings. I'll magically transfer half of each tray to a food stasis bag I brought as we eat the other half. That way, we can buy as many as we want without attracting attention."
"That works for me," Drake said. "I admit I've never gone Fribble quite to this extent."
"Fribble?" Remus asked.
"What you would call 'muggle' across the pond," Drake said. "Some of the bureaucrats in New York City call them No-Maj's, but most of us think that just shows they were all dropped on the head as children."
"I see. Well, you'll get used to it," Sirius said. "Harry taught us and I have to admit how fun it is sometimes. Especially because I know how much my parents would have hated it."
"Really?" Drake asked. "They didn't like Fribbles?"
Remus and Sirius shared a look before bursting out laughing. "That," Sirius said, "is the understatement of the year."
They ordered their first platter of wings and pitcher of beer before launching into a quick history of Sirius's family, keeping it to things publicly known but not necessarily widely known. With the research they'd done on old members of the Black Family for Kreacher, they had an easy time peppering the story with bizarre anecdotes. The kitschy decor around them also provided an endless source of amusement, one that Drake gradually found funnier as they started the second pitcher of beer.
The second pitcher of beer was also when Remus first noticed the volume of beer in his glass decreasing gradually when he was not drinking it. A glance at Sirius earned him a smirk and a wink, so he kept quiet about the subtle disappearance of his beverage.
It wasn't great beer, anyway. Remus would never understand Americans and their obsession with cheap lager.
By the time the fourth pitcher of beer made its way to the table, Drake was thoroughly in his cups. Fortunately, he was at least a pleasant drunk, laughing easily and loudly at whatever outrageous comments came out of Sirius's mouth. That's when Sirius gave the traditional Marauder signal that things were about to get sticky: a scratch of the nose followed by a scratch of the temple.
"I'd better hit the toilet," Remus said. "I'll be right be back."
"In the States," Drake slurred, "we say 'I have to see a man about a horse.'"
"You do?" Remus asked. "Why?"
"Hell if I know," Drake said.
"Very well, then," Remus said. "I'll go visit that man and ask him."
Sirius and Drake both guffawed as he left the table.
On the way back from the toilets (which weren't nearly as dirty as he thought they'd be), Remus found their waitress and pressed two crisp hundred-dollar bills into her hand. He wasn't sure what Sirius was planning and wanted to ensure she didn't lose out on a bill in the process.
Remus nodded to his husband as he sat back down and Sirius nodded back, then turned to Drake. "Did I ever tell you about my Godson Harry ?" he asked.
"A bit, yes, but I'll never turn down another Harry Potter story," Drake replied.
Sirius's expression darkened for such a brief moment that Remus doubted even Harry would have noticed. "Well, he's the best at the Disarming Charm." Sirius slurred the words extra as he spoke. "You wouldn't believe how good he is."
"That's awesome!" Drake said. The reporter seemed to be a genuine Harry Potter fan, not just someone trying to fish for a story. Remus wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
"It really is," Sirius said. "Why, he could probably disarm the beer in that guy's hand all the way across the restaurant."
Drake scoffed, though his drunkenness made that movement exaggerated and not a little silly. "Any decent wizard could hit that target," he said. "That's an easy one. He's enormous, easily 6'4" and three hundred pounds."
"I beg to differ," Remus said. "I don't think I could from here."
"I don't think Drake could, either," Sirius said. "He's…what do you Yanks say? All hat and no cats?"
"Cattle," Remus corrected.
"Right," Sirius said. "All hat and no oxen."
Remus had to suppress a snort. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to watch Sirius in action.
"I've got plenty of cattle!" Drake said. "Well, not cattle, but spells. I mean, spellwork. Any Ilvermorny grad could hit that guy from here."
"Doubtful." Sirius snorted.
"It's a pretty crowded restaurant," Remus said. "And incredibly loud."
"Yeah," Sirius said. "So prove me wrong. I doubt anyone would even see the spell in here, and I doubt anyone beyond this table could even hear you cast."
"Too risky in a fribble bar," Drake said.
Remus picked up a chicken wing. "Huh," he said. "We've got more chicken at this table than I thought."
"Are you implying something?" Drake asked.
"Yes," Sirius said, "he is. I'll just come right out and say it, though: I think you're full of it. There's no way anyone could make that shot with a Disarming Charm."
"It's not that hard!" Drake said.
"Then prove it," Sirius said. "With all the noise and bustle in here, nobody will even notice."
"The chicken here," Remus said in between bites of chicken wing, "really is top-notch. Very…chicken-y, you might say. You, in particular, might say, I mean."
Drake glared at him. "Fine. I'll show you how an Ilvermorny graduate does it."
As the reporter turned to face his target, the faint, watery sensation of a Muggle Notice-Me-Not Charm slid over Remus, and he quickly returned the favour to Sirius.
"Expelliarmus," the drunken reporter whispered. The spell shoved the man painfully into the bar and ripped the half-full glass of beer from his hand, sending it sailing above the crowd's heads and into Drake's hand. It sloshed all over him, of course, but his attention wasn't on the beer so much as it was on the huge man stalking toward him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared. "Did you put wires on my glass to steal it? Is this some of kind of weird reality show or am I about to beat the shit out of some wannabe wizard?"
"Wannabe?" Drake stood up unsteadily. "I'll have you know I am a full-fledged wizard, not that we should be talking about this here. How did you even—"
The man decked Drake with a single punch to the jaw, at which point Sirius and Remus slipped away into the crowd. With the M'N'M's, nobody paid them a lick of attention.
Remus had forgotten how bloody cold Buffalo was in the winter and they both cast Warming Charms on themselves as soon as they were away from the crowd of smokers near the bar's door. Snow crunched under their feet as they made their way down the sidewalk, another consideration of the weather they hadn't taken into account before coming here. The half-inch of snow on the sidewalks was not playing well with Remus's loafers and he didn't even want to think about what it would be like to step into the six inches of snow piled everywhere else around him.
"Now what?" Sirius rubbed his arms in a mostly vain attempt to speed up the effects of the Warming Charm.
"So that's where your plan ended?" Remus asked.
"I think it was quite good," Sirius said. "I got us the wings and ditched our tail at the same time. We even got beer out of the deal. Did you pay?"
Remus nodded. "I did, and it was a good plan. I just wasn't sure where it ended."
"I knew I could count on you," Sirius said. "This is as far as I got."
"Very well." Remus looked around for a cab. "Perfect! While Americans don't seem to have as many cabs around outside of the big cities as we do, there are some here to cater to drunk tourists."
"And that we are!" Sirius said. "Speaking of drunken arseholes, I hope Drake doesn't get in too much trouble. For a scum-sucking celebrity reporter, he wasn't a bad guy."
"I think he'll be fine," Remus said. "That other guy thought he was a stage wizard and he basically agreed. The Aurors will probably show up, haul him off to the drunk tank, issue a citation, and let it go at that."
"I think that's an appropriate punishment for digging into my godson's life," Sirius said. "Shall we collect a cab?"
"Yes, let's," Remus said. "Mr. Wainwright is probably expecting us by now."
Sirius looked around. "No offence…alright, some offence to Buffalo, but this city looks like it's seen better days. Why is there such a large Wizarding community here?"
"It has seen better days," Remus said. "It was once one of the most prosperous cities in the US. Most of the manufacturing and people have left over the last century, but the Wizards hung on. A lot of the grand old buildings along Delaware Avenue only look dilapidated these days to keep out the muggles or whatever they call them around here."
"I see," Sirius said as they reached the nearest cab. It was surprisingly well-kept and turned out to be driven by a student at the local university trying to pay for college. They had a wonderful conversation about some of the other food to try in Buffalo and, as he dropped them off at a weathered old brick house on Delaware Avenue, Remus passed him a fifty-dollar bill to thank him for the ride and the conversation.
"You're such a softy," Sirius said as they entered the rusted old gate.
"I feel like I should pay for services rendered," Remus said, "and that young man just told me about a sandwich that comprises half a pound of roast beef, au jus, a bun, and nothing else. My wolf and I are in rare agreement that such a service deserved proper compensation."
"I see your point," Sirius said.
"You're still thinking about the doughnuts, aren't you?" Remus asked.
"I want to eat them all," Sirius said.
Remus patted him on the shoulder as the magic of the first ward line washed over them. "I do, too," he said.
An elderly man with the paranoid mien of Alastor Moody stomped out of the house. He was completely bald, though whether that was from shaving or nature was unclear, and kept his head on a swivel as he scanned their surroundings for enemies. He looked spry for eighty years old and long scars covered his tanned skin.
"What's the password I agreed on with Harry?" he barked.
"Basilisks are for bell-ends. Real men kill their enemies with skinks," Sirius said. "What's your half?"
"Lizards are for losers," the man replied. "I'll stick with Curses, Charms, and my Colt Anaconda. It's a pleasure to meet you boys. M'name's Nimrod Wainwright."
"Likewise," Remus said. "I'm Remus Lupin and this is my husband Sirius Black."
Wainwright snorted again. "Never thought I'd meet a Black I wasn't going to have to kill," he said.
"Just so you know," Remus said, "I'm a werewolf."
The man shrugged and shot a glance at the moon. "So? We've still got a week or two before it's that time of the month, so we're fine."
Remus raised his eyebrows.
"I've known a lot of werewolves and killed my share of 'em," Wainwright said. "I've killed my share of men, too. In my old line of work, you learn fast to trust individuals, not categories, or you die."
"A lot of British Aurors," Sirius said, "don't seem to hold to the same views."
Wainwright nodded, the motion making his pale scars writhe in the moonlight. "And how many of 'em didn't survive the Blood War, or wouldn't survive another one?"
"Point taken," Remus said.
Wainwright smiled grimly and took another look around. "That's enough time out here jawin'. Let's get inside."
He led them into the old house, pausing only to take off his shoes and hit them with a quick Drying Charm. Remus and Sirius did likewise before following him into the parlour, which was a beautiful room covered in ivory wallpaper, elegant Victorian furniture…and dust, which Wainwright whisked away into a little whirlwind with a Dusting Charm.
"I don't get visitors much anymore," he said, settling into an old armchair as he spoke. "Harry wouldn't tell me what you all were up to, so I've been curious. What brings all the way out here and how'd you end up so late?"
Sirius and Remus sat down on a surprisingly comfortable sofa, probably one kept that way with Cushioning Charms. "We got held up a bit by a reporter," Sirius said. "So we took him to the Anchor Bar, picked up the Buffalo Wings we'd promised Harry, and got the reporter drunk enough to break the Statute a bit. That should keep him out of our hair."
The old man guffawed. "That's the funniest story I've heard about ditching a tail since my old partner O'Brien ditched a Dark Wizard in a brothel."
"We got a lot of beer out of it, too," Sirius said. "I consider the whole evening a smashing success."
"Beer and Buffalo Wings aren't the real reason we're here, though," Remus said. "We need your help with a printing job."
"Beer and wings are also important, though," Sirius said.
"I respect your commitment to the finer things in life," Wainwright said. "Why would you need my help with a printing job, though? I just have a little specialty press for Defence Against the Dark Arts books."
"We recently came into possession of blackmail on a decent fraction of Britain's magical upper class and bureaucrats," Remus said. "We decided the best way to ensure it didn't 'disappear' was to print and distribute it privately. That will likely force the government to take some sort of action."
"I like that idea," Wainwright said. "I take it this stuff is too spicy to use a local printer?"
"We had someone in mind," Remus said. "We're worried this will get him killed. We'll pay for you to use different paper and ink to make this harder to trace back to your printing office, as well as a bonus to convince any necessary employees to make an Unbreakable Vow to keep quiet about this."
Wainwright stared at him. "Money ain't worth this risk."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what else we can offer you," Remus said.
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Wainwright said. "I just wanted to be clear it wasn't just for the money."
Sirius smirked. "You'll still take the money, though."
"Hell yes I'll take the money," the old man said. "Mama didn't raise no fool. But tell your boy that I'm doing this more for him than the money. He's a good kid and I'd love to see him clean out some of the rot over there, but it's mostly because he completed the set for me."
"The set?" Remus asked.
"I was on a Hit Wizard kill team sent to bring down a particularly old and powerful Wendigo back in 1975," Wainwright said. "Ten of us went into the Nahanni Valley to hunt it down. Four men died and another never walked again, but we got that fucker. Unfortunately, we were too late and it had already spawned. MACUSA spent the next decade hunting down the spawn and we managed to find three by the time they declared the hunt successfully concluded. I always thought there had been a fourth, though, subtler and more cunning than its siblings."
He shook his head. "I was never able to prove it, though, since it kept its kill count low enough to stay out of our sights. I never found out what happened to it until MACUSA officials autopsied the body of the student Potter killed. Eight Hitwizards and Aurors died to that family of wendigos and three more were badly injured, and it took a Goddamn schoolboy to finish the job for us. So tell him I'll take the job and to try not to get me killed."
