Chapter 11: The Buck Stops Here

Sirius was staring at the bird-creature. Or perhaps horse-creature. The bird-horse-creature… Regardless, Sirius was staring at them. Sans, who had taken the second of the almost hilariously out-of-place chairs and was now curled up rather comfortably, watched his friend scratch at his head in thought.

"don't strain yourself, man."

"What?"

"i dunno. looked to me like you were planning something," he said. "that's a lot of effort for ya."

The wizard huffed. "Oh ha-ha, Rattles. I'll have you know my carelessness isn't for lack of skill; it's a willful disregard of caution."

"because that's so much better," Sans chuckled.

Joking aside, Sirius was trying to sort something out. Namely what should be done about Buckbeak. The Hippogriff could stay at Grimmauld Place—he relished the idea of once again housing the beast in his late mother's old room—but there were a few problems with that plan. After all, the last time Buckbeak had lived there an entire Order had been available to bring in feed and so on. When it had just been them on the run, both had resorted to scavenging. In short, he didn't know if he could care for himself, Sans, and an entire Hippogriff all on his lonesome.

"Perhaps…" He hesitated, not wanting to finish the thought. "Perhaps it would be best if we set Buckbeak free."

Buckbeak immediately interrupted with a head shake and a snort that clearly meant 'no way'. Leveling a stare at his human companion, the Hippogriff's feathered face expressed as much disagreement as a beak allowed.

"well, that's a no-go."

Sirius sighed and, palming one hand over his scruffy face, confessed, "It's just… I know how bad it was: being cooped up in that place. If I don't want to go, then why would I make anyone else?"

"it seems to me like you don't have much say in the matter," Sans observed, and Buckbeak nodded in agreement. "he's comin' feather or not you want him to."

"But—"

"didn't you say you were good at winging it?"

The wizard made a choked noise that sounded suspiciously like an aborted laugh. "Merlin— Rattles, I am always impressed by the speed you launch those puns."

"oh, but this is just the beak-ining. i have a jay-gantic number of j—"

Sensing that Sans could and would continue should he allow it, Sirius interrupted swiftly. "Joking aside, we really do need to figure this out. I just don't have the means to take care of him."

At that, Buckbeak huffed and rose gracefully to his feet. The creature carefully stepped over to Sirius, looming over him where he sat in his chair. For a moment everything in the clearing fell still. Then, delicately, the Hippogriff bumped his beak into the wizard's forehead. It felt… somewhat like a reprimand.

Sans openly chuckled. "that's the expression of someone who plans on doing the caring for."

"Oh? And how'd you figure that?"

The skeleton was silent for a moment before finally waving it off with a relaxed excuse. "plenty of monsters can't or just don't speak well. you get pretty good at reading people."

Sirius's skepticism was plain on his own face, but he dropped the issue. He could guess easily enough that living repeats of days or weeks—months or years—would lead anyone to pay attention to the slightest details, keeping a lookout for any small change. Instead he leaned into his chair with a half-hearted grumble. "I'll just have to figure something out, won't I."

It was clearly rhetorical, but Buckbeak answered with a low whistle.

"Fantastic."

"lighten up, ex-fuzz-butt." Sans paused and sat up, looking over at his friend thoughtfully. "man, i need a better nickname for you."

"Padfoot," said Sirius, smiling softly in reminiscence. "Or Snuffles. I've gone by both."

"because of the dog thing?"

"Because of the 'dog thing', yes," he confirmed.

The skeleton considered for a moment, closing his eye sockets in thought, then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back in his chair. "paddy-paws."

"Excuse me?"

"i have selected a suitable nickname: paddy-paws."

Sirius might've tried to smack him if doing so didn't involve getting out of his seat. He settled with a tepid glare—there wasn't much heat in it. "I think I prefer Padfoot."

"that's the thing about nicknames, paddy-paws," said Sans with a shrug, a grin, and his usual sass. "you don't get to choose yours."

The wizard scoffed, vaguely annoyed but also inexplicably pleased to earn a new silly name. "I gave you two perfectly good options."

"but they weren't my 'perfectly good options', were they?"

"They were. They were your options. I just said that, Rattles."

Sans dramatically pointed finger guns into the air, both hands for added effect, though the image was lessened overall by his completely flop-ish posture in the chair. "i make my own options, paddy-paws!"

Pushing himself up and out of his seat, Sirius gave his friend a peeved look which quickly changed to mischievous. He drew his wand with a quick dramatic flourish and, waving it with more unnecessary fanciness, vanished both chairs. Sans, however, stayed in place.

Floating. Eye sockets still shut and just as relaxed as ever.

"Oh come on!" Sirius complained with a laugh. "That's not fair!"

Opening one socket so that he was winking at the prankster, Sans simply grinned more broadly than ever. The soft blue light surrounding him brightened ever so slightly as he stretched mid-air: an action done as much for show as it was for comfort. "cheat, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I can't complain about it!"

"true nuff. so why'd you vanish the comfy chairs? i really chair-ished the chance to relax." Sans released his magic, dropping himself to the ground with a light thud.

Sirius was staring at the Hippogriff again. "We have to get going eventually."

"will this trip be on me, or do you have a different idea?"

"Well," he replied, humor seeping into his tone, "how do you feel about a little flight?"

=X=X=X=

Turns out that Sans isn't very keen on flying.

Not flying high, anyway.

So here he was, an uncomfortably long distance from the ground and well out of his comfort zone. This is regardless of the facts that if he did fall he could teleport to safety or, geeze, just fly himself with blue magic. He clutched at the Hippogriff's strange feather-hair, trying both to be gentle and still hold on as tight as possible.

To make things a bit worse for his anxiety, Sirius had cloaked the three of them with a particularly powerful Disillusionment charm of his own design. Like all charms of its type, it caused a sort of almost-invisibility—causing them to take on the appearance of their surroundings. However, his version expanded on that quite literally: the edges extending beyond the target and gradually fading to transparent, making the border between hider and hiding place all the more indistinct. From the ground, with only the overcast sky behind them, any irregular blurring would be completely unnoticeable.

And from Sans position, it gave a disconcertingly uncertain perception of what was keeping him aloft. If it wasn't for his extra sense of the magic clouding around them, he would be more than just a little shaky.

"We're pretty much right above the place," Sirius called over his shoulder, wind snatching at his words. "Could you check for any wizards nearby?"

"eh? uhm, y-yeah sure." Turning his attention down and out, he felt around for any magic that seemed wizard-y. There was a dense collection of spells or wards on one of the buildings—their destination, presumably—and it made it hard to get a clear read on the inside. Sans was pretty sure there were no wizards though, inside or out.

"look's all good. not even many normal people about."

"Fantastic." Something about the way he said it suggested that he wasn't too happy that they didn't have an excuse to just leave, but he plowed on. "Hold on tight."

Landing wasn't fun, but at least it was fast: even if it being fast was part of why it wasn't fun. But no matter. Buckbeak touched down with remarkable grace, keeping his two passengers in mind. It was a gloomy looking street, all gray stone. Some of the buildings even had cracked windows: one of them was missing altogether, replaced by a large sheet of cardboard and some packaging tape. Dead bushes out front of every house and rubbish piles rotting in the gutter completed the overall dreary scene.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Some of the house fronts were decorated as nicely as possible—flowers struggled in tiny gardens and two doors had an almost-new coat of paint. It helped to brighten the place up, but not by much. There was just a darker feeling Sans couldn't shake, something looming over the street. It was quiet, and the clacking of the Hippogriff's claws and hooves against the street cobbles seemed exceptionally loud.

Sirius slid down from the beast's back with ease, much to Sans's passive annoyance; during his attempt he had only managed a painless, magic-assisted fall. Catching his balance again, Sans turned his attention to the row of houses. It was easy to guess which was the one his friend was so dreading. The place was practically a beacon of magic compared to the rest of them, though the magic itself had a bitter, dark edge.

Also it looked really freakin' creepy.

Pointing at the obvious choice, he somewhat rhetorically asked, "that one, amiright?"

The not-actually-a-criminal-but-definitely-an-escapee nodded. He was giving the gloomy townhouse a careful look, thoughtfully tapping his wand into his palm. However, he was not making any move to go inside.

"so… are we gonna actually go in, or…?"

"Yes, yes, we will. I just need to—" Sirius paused, wand stopped mid-swing and pointing off in some random direction. "Alright, I think I can pull it off."

"no stripping, please."

"Oh, shut it. You know what I mean."

Sans tilted his skull in what could be considered a slight nod and, with a glance to the wand and then the building, said, "i'm assuming you mean a spell of some sort."

The wizard took two and a half steps back, checked his new angle, then took another four back and one step to the left. He gestured for Sans to move in front of him. "Quite right. I've never cast a Fidelius before, but I know the theory and I've seen it done. Hopefully you being a skeleton won't make any difference."

Gamely moving into position as directed, the skeleton in question stuffed his hands into his pockets and shut his eye sockets, boney brow somehow slightly creased with thought. "'fidelius'…" he repeated, as if tasting the word. "that's got something to do with trust, right? latin, i think."

"Probably. It's a defensive spell: hides information away in a single person's soul. If that information is a place, it means nobody can find it unless told by the Secret Keeper."

"i'm guessing that would be me, in this case." At mention of souls and messing with them, Sans had uneasily opened his sockets again. His eye-lights were dim. Nobody knew better just how fragile his SOUL was (save perhaps the kiddo, and maybe—maybe, he never wanted to worry him—his brother), so it was natural that he'd be concerned.

Picking up on his unease, Sirius reassured, "I only bring up the skeleton thing because the charm's description says it's hidden inside a living person. But you are alive, so… not really an issue, is it?"

Apparently, while he did notice the emotion, Sirius hadn't quite got the reasoning correct.

"that's not why—" Sans sighed, "look, i've got a lot of tricks, but my SOUL's not the sturdiest thing around. this isn't gonna accidentally dust me, right?"

"I've never heard of it hurting anyone."

"your choice of emphasis is so comforting." His concern was more knee-jerk reaction than anything else—a deep urge to keep his SOUL to himself, safe and secret and unseen. The spell itself wasn't really all that big of an issue, even if it was damaging; he'd be careful to check any magic before letting it hit. He rested a hand on his sternum, directly over where his SOUL would manifest should he summon it forth.

Sirius stood silent, letting his friend come to a decision.

Another moment's consideration and the skeleton shrugged in acceptance—they really needed the security such a spell could provide, after all. "let's get this done with."

"Alright then."

Broad strokes with his wand sent whorls of multi-colored light spinning outward, not in any particular direction but out. The farther away the magical streaks reached, the more transparent they became before rapidly fading to invisible. As Sirius focused even further and carefully began the incantation—Sans heard his own name come up a few times—the center of the spiraling magic slowly meandered toward the waiting skeleton. And, detecting nothing dangerous in the spell, he let it wash over him.

It felt… remarkably familiar. In fact, it rather reminded him of a CHECK: reaching out through him and seeking for information. The only difference was that when it found what it was looking for, it gently snatched it away.

The curving waves of magic turned, changing direction from outward to inward, and Sans could see the far edge of the fading spiral draw closer. It spun faster and faster the closer it came, until eventually it appeared as if he was standing on a small circle of blurring colors. Then the light began creeping up his bones, and the magic of the spell easily joined with his own SOUL.

A strange feeling, to be sure.

"Consilium custodiet te, et secretum fideliter servaverunt!" Sirius finished with a flourish, and the last thin strings of magic connecting him to the spell snapped. He wavered on his feet and Sans was quick to move to his side.

"woah, paddy-paws. steady there." Short as he was, Sans wasn't able to help much when it came to keeping Sirius fully upright, so he settled with helping him sit down. "how's it feel?"

"Like I just ran a lap around the Quidditch pitch." Rubbing at his chest, Sirius took a deep breath. "Or maybe like I flew around it, except upside down. Fifty times. What was I even doing?"

"casting a fidelius."

Brow creased slightly, he asked, "Where?"

"welp, i guess it worked." Sans looked back at the townhouse in question: still grim and old but now with a new, subtle layer of magic draped over the premises. Then—addressing both Sirius and Buckbeak, just to be sure—he stated, "since you've clearly forgotten, our new secret hideout is at number 12 grimmauld place."

Sirius blinked at him and then stared at the buildings for a long moment, likely seeing some change to it that Sans did not. Sans did, however, feel the magic twitch slightly when he said those words and let them both in on the secret. It was as if a small portion of it had slipped away from him.

After the realization of the location had passed, Sirius nodded firmly. "Right. Let's get inside then. Buckbeak can fly overtop and land in the courtyard."

The Hippogriff did just that, leaping into a short flight and disappearing over the roof. Despite the conviction in his voice, Sirius paused for a moment to gather his determination. It was pretty clear that he was not—in any way, shape, or form—looking forward to his stay in his childhood home. If, of course, a house that looked more suited to a horror story could be referred to as a home at all. They walked up the front steps together, but Sirius opened the heavy wooden door alone. He tapped the cracking paint with his wand, sending out a pulse of magic keyed to the house, and a series of sounds from the inside clinked as whatever locks there were unlocked themselves.

It was dark inside, as to be expected, but Sans could see the place clearly even before Sirius lit up the tip of his wand.

Cobwebs, dust, and a general creepiness: that was his first impression of the interior. The street had been named well, at least with regards to this house. Though Sans had to wonder who would name a street like that in the first place. He doubted most people wanted to live in a place with a name that brought up images of all things dark, dirty, unsettling, and, well… grim. The colors were all dark and the decorations creepy. There was even what appeared to have once been some creature's leg serving as an umbrella stand, just sitting there in the entry way as if such a thing is completely normal.

A chandelier hanging overhead hinted that it had once been an ornate hallway, but age and neglect had done the place no favors. The wallpaper was peeling and faded, any pattern beyond unrecognizable. Several old paintings were hung up. All of them crookedly, and all of them so encrusted with grime that he couldn't make out what they were even paintings of. Sirius had mentioned that portraits could be enchanted to move in his world, but suffice to say that these particular pieces were not providing any evidence in support.

"Just as horrible as I remember," Sirius remarked, flicking his wand at the row of gas lamps on the wall and lighting them up.

"bit of a fixer-upper, that's for sure."

"We spent ages trying to clean the place up," he recalled, leading the way down the hall. "We never did manage it, but looking at it now we must have made more of a difference than I thought. Oh, thank Merlin she's closed up already."

"what?" Sans asked, though he would hazard a guess that Sirius was talking about the particularly large, moth-eaten curtains hanging ahead of them. There wasn't much else in the hall that could be closed, after all. The curtains were a bit to short to cover a door and he doubted there would be windows on the interior of the building, so it probably covered something hung on the wall: a portrait, probably.

Before Sirius could provide a definite answer, a sound like a sharp snap cut in and he was stopped short by the appearance of a spindly figure even shorter than Sans. The creature had a bulbous nose, bloodshot eyes, large bat-like ears, and wore nothing but a raggedy scrap of cloth that might have once been a pillowcase.

The wizard groaned in annoyance. "I had nearly forgotten about him."

"So he's come back, has he?" The house-elf (Sans was decently sure that was what the species was called) had a low and garbled voice, hard to understand as he murmured to himself. "But he's not wanted here, oh no. No. Kreacher doesn't think this great, noble house needs a useless, useless—"

Suddenly the creature realized Sirius wasn't standing there alone, catching sight of Sans still watching from behind. He stared at the short skeleton, eyes growing impossibly wide and ears folding back.

"uhm, sup?"

"MURDERER!" Kreacher screeched.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

Ha-HA!
April Fool's, but for real this time! BAMBOOZLED!
Yes, what a great prank: post a bonus chapter early and pretend everything is done only to then post the actual chapter on schedule just as usual. And, as a bonus, it ends with a cliffhanger! I bet you're feeling real tricked right now. Such a great prank.
Plus, as a super bonus, I drew short comic from this chapter! You can find it on my deviantART page (same username as here), and I'll try to link it in my profile.

Thanks again to everyone who reviews! You are all fantastic!

See ya on the flipside, everyone!