Chapter 12: Moving On Up

"excuse me?" Sans asked, understandably confused.

Sirius, however, ignored the screaming house-elf in favor of something else. He tensed, as if bracing himself for something.

The curtains they were standing near swept aside in a gust of unfelt force and something began shouting obscenities—though not curse words, technically, just generally cruel and horrible—as loudly as possible. Or at least, Sans hoped it was as loud as possible because, even without real ears, the noise was deafening.

"—DARE TO COME—"

The shrieking reached a new crescendo of crazed, proving Sans's hopes wrong. He couldn't see much of what was going on since Sirius had begun struggling to close the curtains and the curtains seemed to be fighting back. It didn't help that the large-eared creature had moved from shouting at Sans to actually flinging magic at him. The attacks were weak, batted aside with barely a thought, but they were distracting. There were maybe three full seconds of unbridled, noisy chaos before the short skeleton chose to do something about it. With a surge of magic, Sans froze Kreacher and aimed in the general direction of whatever had been behind the curtains. His magic whiffed through nothing but paint, canvas, and wood.

Kind of.

It felt weird, almost like feeling cloth snag on something unexpected. There wasn't a SOUL behind the curtains, but there was a rather dense enchantment. Blue magic catching magic still seemed to have the desired effect—regardless that Sans hadn't been aiming to freeze spellwork—and an abrupt silence descended. Sirius, who honestly hadn't been faring very well in his confrontation with the curtains, loosely let the heavy fabric fall as he curiously turned to his friend.

"huh." Sans could see now that the horrible shrieking had, in fact, been coming from a painting. Proof positive (in a sense) that portraits could move and talk in this world. "i'm surprised that worked."

The painting in question was of an insane old woman. A really insane old woman, if that hadn't been made clear by the screaming. Other than the crazy in her painted eyes, the first thing Sans noticed was that she wore a black cap with a small veil, covering up most of her filthy gray hair. In fact, her clothes looked like she had been painted immediately after a funeral, and the rest of her appearance made him wonder if perhaps the funeral in question had been her own. Her skin looked old, but more than that it looked sickly: wrinkly and yellow and basically the perfect example of what skin shouldn't look like. Even as a skeleton who had lived underground surrounded by monsters, he knew that sort of coloring wasn't healthy on a human.

Though most of her painted self was kept immobile by Sans's blue magic, her eyes still darted back and forth furiously. For an instant after she spotted Sans and his skeletal-ness, something akin to shock, maybe even fear, flashed over her face. It was quickly replaced with a maniacal glare, however, as if doing so might see them both drop dead.

"lovely woman," Sans remarked without a hint of sincerity.

"My mother," introduced Sirius. "Walburga Black."

The skeleton regarded the painting for another moment before shaking his head slowly. "my condolences."

He felt both the painting and the house-elf tense indignantly at that—or at least that's what he imagined it was, he obviously wasn't well versed in how the portraits work. They clearly had more to say (shout, more like), but Sans wasn't too keen about letting them deafen him again.

"I know, right?" Sirius pulled the old curtains shut again, then turned to scowl at Kreacher. "It looks like he's even worse than before. He's a horrible little bastard, but he never attacked anyone in the Order."

Curious, and of course because he would need to eventually, Sans loosened his magical grip on the house-elf.

"MURDERER! FILTHY DISGUSTING MUR—"

Glad that he hadn't loosened his magical grip on the painted lady behind the curtain, Sans quickly clamped back down with a grimace. "i think he might have a vendetta on me for some reason."

If looks could kill, Kreacher's glare would have dusted Sans right where he stood.

Sirius was staring at the house-elf with clear disdain, but at the same time there was an edge of uncertainty: there had been plenty of not-time in the void to get over the crap from his youth. After a moment he crouched in front of the short creature. "Look. Sans isn't a murderer, so—"

"at the very least, nobody i've killed has stayed dead. the one's that weren't already dead, i mean. 'cause…"

"Stop," the wizard said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting his skeletal friend a look that promised he'd weasel the full story out of him eventually. "You're not really helping me on this."

Sans just shrugged.

Faced with such nonchalant apathy, Sirius could do nothing but sigh and return his attention to the furious (and in his opinion still completely bonkers) house-elf. "Kreacher." It might as well have been an insult, the way he said the name. "I'll be honest here: I hate you and you hate me. But criminal record or no, I am the current Lord of the House of Black. Sans is my guest and I won't stand for your insane attacks against him."

Kreacher continued to glare, but something shifted in his eyes—a hint of unwilling acknowledgment and whole lot of confusion. When Sans dropped his containment again, the elf stayed silent for a long moment, shaking with barely contained anger, before viciously hissing, "Then Master wishes to protect one of Master Regulus's murderers."

"well that's just patently false."

"He's clearly delusional," Sirius sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "More than before, if that's even possible."

Kreacher's eyes lit with rage and something deeper, and there was an absolute conviction drowning in sorrow that rang through his entire expression. Sans knew that look, had seen it in the mirror those rare times he couldn't push through his memories: the look of someone who had lost their whole world.

"Kreacher knows what he saw, Kreacher still sees it." In his dreams, in his nightmares, Sans read from the house-elf's face and in his hoarse whispering voice that grew more desperate the more he said. "Master being dragged down and Master has commanded Kreacher to go so Kreacher must go but Master is DROWNING because of those HORRID DISGUSTING CORPSES AND—"

Sans cut him off sharply, not with magic but with a single look. His eye sockets were empty pools of black and, when he spoke, his tone was indisputable. "I did not kill him."

He completely let go of the magic holding the house-elf.

Kreacher jerked as his balance was returned to his own control. One of his ears twitched. He took a step back, eyes never leaving the skeleton, but hidden in his boundless loathing was just the barest hint of consideration. Then there was a sound like a snap and the house-elf was gone.

=X=X=X=

There wasn't really much else to see, really. It was interesting enough, to be sure, but it's a bit difficult to appreciate the cool bits when a lot of the other bits are actively… well, gnawing on your ankle. Sans was distracted from Sirius's tour around the house when he caught sight of a pair of small creatures with compound eyes, beetle-like wings, and twice as many limbs as expected trying to do just that, tiny jaws clicking uselessly against his lower leg bones.

"There are a lot of… things that made themselves at home here once the place was abandoned," Sirius was saying, smacking away what appeared to be a swarm of living dust balls that had puffed out of the carpet as he led the way into the drawing room. "Most of them are fairly harmless, though, so it should be fine until we get to cleaning."

"hmm," Sans hummed distractedly, still curiously watching the little pests' attempts to bite him.

"Mind you, the furniture's probably loads more dangerous in comparison. Like that grandfather clock there, it—" He abruptly cut himself off.

"…yeah? it what?"

"Sans, you're being chewed on."

The skeleton glanced back down at his feet, finding that another one had joined in. He hadn't noticed.

"yes," he agreed. "that would seem to be the case, wouldn't it?"

Sirius looked torn between smacking himself, smacking his friend, or smacking the things currently gnawing on his friend. Something was going to be smacked, though, that's for sure.

It was Sans.

Of course the skeleton ducked under his swing, even if there wasn't any real force behind it. With a huff, Sirius repeated, "You're being chewed on. Do something about it!"

"what are these things anyway?" Sans asked, kicking his leg out to temporarily scatter the three creatures.

"Doxys. They're annoying little biters." Sirius flicked out his wand and waved it in a quick, jagged motion. "Flipendo."

The spell caught all three doxys and knocked them straight to the ground. Another swish conjured a net-like sack and bundled them all up in one fell swoop, then chucked the bag into the corner to deal with later. No longer distracted, Sans finally looked around the room they were standing in. It was, as Sirius may or may not have mentioned, a drawing room, which here means a room where guests can be received and entertained. So really it doesn't have much to do with drawing at all. Opposite a pair of tall windows, curtains drawn, was a very large tapestry of what appeared to be a family tree. There were also two old dusty sofas sat facing each other, a fireplace full of cold ash, and a couple of short end tables in the corners.

Oh, and a piano. Don't know how he missed it on the first glance. Seeing the musical instrument made Sans a bit nostalgic for his own trombone.

"Anyway, there's not really much to this room," said Sirius, eyeing the large tapestry as if it had personally insulted him. "Just more dusty furniture."

Sans, recalling the earlier warning that said dusty furniture might cause something significantly more dangerous than coughing, decided to check it out (or rather, CHECK it out) and swept his magical senses through the entire townhouse.

"oh woah… that's a lot of magic stuff," he observed, almost-sorta blinded by the density of the spellwork. Then he paused, catching something dark, darker, yet darker than any other signature he'd ever sensed, something that reminded him of a shattered red wraith with only broken remnants where there should be a SOUL. Even just barely brushing against it made his magic twitch away in a reflexive flinch. "also, dafuq is that?"

Sirius turned to him in surprise, having never heard anything close to a curse from Sans (save for once, the one time Sans had finally opened up just a little and explained some of what he had been through). "What are you talking about?"

Zeroing in on the source, Sans found that it was a small glass case resting innocently on one of the tables. If he hadn't still had his senses aimed in that direction, he might have been inclined to think it was nothing of importance. As it was, however, he could all but see a black aura floating in the air around it.

"that!" he provided, pointing at the item in question. "you mentioned dark magic was something of a family speciality, but geeze."

Following his friend's gesture, Sirius looked over to the glass case. Inside, resting on a velvet cushion, lay a golden locket, beautifully decorated with an ornate 'S' and inlaid with green gemstones. "It doesn't look that bad."

Sans joined him in staring at the piece of jewelry. "looks can be deceiving."

"Well," Sirius crossed his arms with a shrug, "we'll just have to remember to get rid of it when we clean the place."

The skeleton might have scowled at that, but said nothing else—it did belong to Sirius, after all. But he knew he would be avoiding this room for the foreseeable future.

At least until that thing was removed.

=X=X=X=

It took a few days to get settled in, but some of the problems Sirius had been worried about turned out to be non-issues. Or at least, they became non-issues after Sans nagged Sirius into making Kreacher go out to purchase food and stuff. He was even working on getting the wizard to treat his house-elf less harshly, if not with a modicum of civility.

The level of violence Sirius flung at Kreacher wasn't too severe—never much worse than a hard shove, really—but still.

"you know," Sans remarked, using that offhand manner that made it hard to tell how serious he was actually being, "i don't really mind name-calling."

Glancing up from the stacks of books and loose pages littering the table—the two of them were hanging out in the library, as had become the norm—Sirius frowned. He had (literally) kicked Kreacher out a couple of minutes ago, given he didn't trust the little bastard nearly as far as he could throw him, so it was easy to guess that the skeleton might be going somewhere with this.

"…And?"

He shrugged. "just sayin'. i mean, if i can be polite after an accusation of murder, i don't think it'd kill you to be a bit nicer."

"I am impressed with that, by the way." Sirius turned back to the table of research, flipped a few pages of the book he had open, scanned through a few paragraphs, then flipped back. "Merlin knows I couldn't deal with that."

"despite having none, i have pretty thick skin."

"So I've noticed. Both of those things." The wizard grinned, leaning back in his chair.

Sans pushed himself out of the stack of pillows he had accrued on the floor—and really, Sirius didn't know why he'd chosen that over any of the several perfectly good chairs available—and strode up to the table. "just… keep it in mind, will ya? little dude's annoying, but that's not a great reason to punt him every time you make eye contact."

Something in the skeleton's voice made Sirius look back up, eyes meeting unusually intense eye-lights. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and then: "Fine. I think I can handle that."

"thanks. whatcha' working on, anyway?"

"Glad you asked!" His eyes lit with mischievous glee, dropping the somber air they had slipped into as he shoved a few loose pages in Sans's direction. "I've been planning."

"uh-huh."

Sirius ignored the jokingly exaggerated disbelief on his skele-friend's boney face. "Yes, since we've basically time-traveled there's a lot to consider. I've been trying to write down everything I know happened, stuff Harry told me about his fourth year, and so on." He suddenly frowned slightly. "It's been… frustratingly difficult."

"'difficult'?" Sans asked. "you mean you're having memory troubles?"

"Not particularly, just annoyed with my past-self for not getting all the answers I need now."

"well, hindsight's 20/20. i doubt you expected to be teleported two years into the past by a skeleton after pseudo-dying."

The wizard nodded; obviously yes, he couldn't say he had.

"but," Sans continued, gesturing to the selection of thick old books Sirius had laid out in front of him, "i doubt you need magical tomes to help jog your memory."

Sirius tapped the pages he had messily pushed over earlier with a grin, advising, "Read them, Rattles. I didn't shove them at you to be ignored."

So the skeleton did, flipping quickly through his friend's notes. They were filled with line after line of text written in Sirius's pointed cursive scrawl, sketches of what looked like runic formulas, and careful diagrams of something circular (along with plenty of significantly less careful doodles). While the handwriting did make it a bit difficult to make out some words, sometimes even full sentences, Sans had experience reading through messy research.

"is this that 'glamour' thing you mentioned back a few days ago?"

"That's right!" the wizard said, sounding smug. "It's taking longer than I'd like to modify the spell itself—make it stronger—but I've worked out how to anchor a weaker version to a bracelet you can wear on your upper arm."

Sans almost wasn't prepared to catch the silver circlet of metal that was chucked at him. It was the bracelet in question, a band about as wide as two fingers and marked with a series of runes. He turned it over in his hands—metal clicking almost musically against bone—as he scanned its enchantments.

After taking a moment to appreciate the effort put into it, Sans set it down and remarked, "are you in some kinda hurry? you sound a bit rust."

"Good one. Anyway, I figured you would want the option of disguise before I invite Rem—" Sirius paused, then abruptly stood up, the motion disturbing his research papers. "Merlin, wait, I need to go get that hyperactive owl for Ron!"

Sans blinked, eye sockets shuttering shut then open in what was clearly slight confusion. "ya lost me there, paddy-paws."

Not answering quite yet, Sirius flicked out his wand and cast a quick spell to check what day it was. Suddenly looking a peculiar cross between a bit relieved and horribly stressed—Sans wasn't sure how that worked—the wizard haphazardly gathered up his notes and shoved them into messy stacks.

"We'll be cutting it close, but the train shouldn't leave Hogsmeade until 11 o'clock so we have some time."

"explanation, please."

"I suppose it wouldn't be that big of a deal if the feather ball doesn't get to them while they're on the train, but—"

"paddy-paws."

Jerked from his rambling by Sans's demand for attention, Sirius refocused and explained, "Right. So first time through, after the whole Pettigrew fiasco, I felt a bit guilty that Ron—that's Harry's friend, if you don't recall—"

"i do."

"Better with names than me, then."

"stars, i should hope so," Sans teasingly mocked; Sirius's skill at putting faces to names had been made abundantly clear with Perkins at the Ministry. Sure it had been a while, but the man had given them his full name. That should have at least sounded familiar to the wizard's brain, even if just in a déjà vu kind of way.

"Anyway," continued Sirius, moving past that point since he couldn't disagree, "Pettigrew had been pretending to be his pet rat so that whole thing meant that Ron no longer had his pet. I felt a bit guilty, so I went and bought this crazy little fluff-owl off some guy in Knockturn Alley. It was mostly dumb luck, but the owl was alright and now I still owe Ron a new pet."

Sans nodded, understanding the gist of things, before asking, "this 'knockturn alley'… it wouldn't happen to be where wizards make shady deals in the dark, would it?"

"Yeah, a lot of dark wizards and unsavory types hang around there. Not the best place."

"and you've mentioned a 'diagon alley' before, too. is it perhaps… less than perpendicular?"

Sirius looked positively confused now, staring at his friend in a very no-clue-where-you-are-going-with-this manner. "Maybe? I guess the buildings aren't very straight."

"wow." The skeleton touched one hand to his forehead, staring blankly into the middle distance as he wrapped his non-existent brain around something. "just a step and a half away from asgore-level naming skill. i appreciate the puns but wow. is there a horizont alley somewhere as well?"

"Yes, but it doesn't have very many stores. Basically just a cross street of Diagon Alley that leads to Knockturn Alley."

"i… i was being sarcastic, but i mean really?"

Waving off the pun name debate direction the conversation had turned toward, Sirius said, "I think I've already told you that wizards have peculiar naming sense. Right now I need to go re-find Pigwidgeon for Ron."

"the owl was named 'pigwidgeon'?"

"Wasn't my idea." He had reached the library door and was now just holding it open, waiting on Sans and looking antsy to get a move on. "Well? Are you coming?"

Sans was interested, of course, but first… Tapping the silver bracelet sitting on the table, he asked, "this works?"

"The glamour doesn't actually have much color yet, but you definitely won't look skeletal."

The skeleton grinned, grabbing the bracelet and slipping it up his arm until it sat just above his elbow under his jacket; it cleverly tightened slightly so if wouldn't fall off.

"then let's go shopping."

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

I didn't even need to make up 'Horizont Alley', it's already a thing. Kinda. It's a street at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park. Mind, I'm not using the theme park for the layout, even if I might use names of streets or stores. But come on, there's no way I could pass up that chance.
This chapter and the next are sort of transitional, with not much terribly exciting happening. So we've hit a bit of a calm spot after the whole time-travel and escape stuff, hope ya don't hold it against me.

Thanks for all the reviews! As of writing this it's sitting at 199 reviews, and (since I hope at least one person will review in the next month) I'm just gonna preemptively thank you all for 200! I read all of them, even if I don't respond to them all in writing. Sometimes I can't think of anything to say, but I appreciate them all the same!
Glad you seemed to enjoy my April Fool's prank!

No one important: At least half the fun is seeing the other character's trying to figure out what's up and just generally floundering in the wake of the nonsense. And February was interesting in a good way, since I had to move into a new apartment and, as an American living in Munich with meh German skills, it was an experience. It all worked out, thanks for the support!
Also, you totally called it with Kreacher waking up Walburga.

azuretoybonnie: I… hadn't thought of it as being a reference to Fresh, but now that you mention it, it could definitely be seen as such. Though methinks it's not quite bombastic enough for that crazy rad dude.

WildRosa13474: Yep, I'm pretty proud of the title.

Her: Why what? Why not.

In unrelated news, I'm going to take this chance to plug another story which I began posting shortly after this chapter was first published. It's a Naruto one with an OC lead, so if you're interested in that sorta thing go ahead an check it out. Here's the description for you curious few:
"Axel Brandt is a highly intelligent but overall normal guy. He lives a normal life, has a normal engineering job, has normal friends, so on and so forth. But then he died… or not. Displaced and still very much alive, now he's found himself in a distinctly abnormal situation. Ninjas are not something he wants to deal with."

See ya on the flipside, everyone!