97 Siriously Suspicious

(A/N: Sorry for the delay, here's a chapter! 14 Chapters ahead on Sheo.bio for the small price of FREE.)

 ((Those listening to the chapter, is it working alright this time?))

Suppose you asked anyone in magical Britain how the ancestral manor of House Black looked. They'd probably brush you off or obliviate you, what's a muggle doing inquiring about noble houses and their seat of power? Suppose they do not take action and instead humor your magicless existence for a few minutes.

In that case, they'd probably tell you about a vast, obscenely luxurious home filled with dark artifacts and horrors unknown. A cold, dreary place that produced monsters like Bellatrix Lestrange.

And they would've been right, two years ago.

" —and that's how Andy and Ted decided to go on a second honeymoon in the Caribbean."

Sirius said, cutting his steak into small parts like a ten-year-old. Behind him, Kreacher stood ever vigilant, almost proud to see the family he served enjoying another sumptuous dinner of his own making.

Magnus nodded, trying to appear somewhat interested in his father's stories. Meanwhile, his mind was fluctuating between frustration and worry.

The two of them were eating in the smaller, less formal room. Black Manor had four different dining rooms, each for a specific occasion or purpose, from formal receptions to business meetings or mere family reunions.

This one was a bit…different, to say the least.

A bright fireplace kept them warm and cast shadows on the red walls, a small round table with red clothes and golden plates stood between the two wizards, filled with more chicken and beef and mouth-watering dishes than they could eat in a week.

It was Magnus's concession to his father's wish to turn the entire house into an ode to Gryffindor. Along with Sirius's room, the man personally oversaw its decoration. In his humble opinion, the room looked positively dreadful, straight out of Casterly Rock.

"So I looked the dragon in the eye, and told her that if he wanted to eat my donut then she'd have to pay with her booty."

"What?" Magnus looked up to see a very much unamused Sirius…alright, that was a lie, Sirius was pretty much always amused regardless of the circumstances.

"So you are listening, huh." The mutt smiled but dropped it quickly. "Are you sure you are fine? Minerva's overworking you? I swear she thinks you're some sort of unbeatable learning machine!"

"I am fine, Sirius, don't worry, now why don't you tell me about that meeting with our Acromantula silk suppliers." He said, twisting his face into a pretty convincing smile.

He was not fine.

The possibilities opened by the Horcrux sentience were pretty much infinite, infinitely troublesome too! From the instant Sirius apparated them back home, he had to forcefully keep himself from entering the sealed room where Hufflepuff's Cup had been stored.

They could have disposed of it, but keeping a Horcrux for research, or as a bargaining chip in case things went south and Voldemort somehow won seemed like a good idea.

'Thank god we did that.' He thought, this time doing a much better job of looking interested in the discussion. Smiling and chuckling when appropriate, nodding along, and frowning when something troubling was told.

The soul shard had been put in stasis, safely inside a blood-sealed trunk and behind so many wards, masking, and defensive spells it would keep someone of Dumbledore's caliber busy for a few precious minutes; giving them time to act before the enemy noticed that the cup had been portkeyed to an unplottable safe house somewhere in Wessex.

Call it overkill, but Magnus wasn't taking any risk with someone functionally immortal on the run; especially with magicks as uncertain as Horcruxes, who knew what could be done with them? A spell that allowed teleportation to your severed soul shards regardless of outside defenses might just exist for all they knew.

He would have to unseal it if only to verify his theory. And if he was right…that would change everything.

'I would have the opportunity to peer into the mind of the most dangerous dark lord of this era. I could learn his secrets, the ones none have uncovered, and use them to ruin him.' The thought sent shivers down his spine.

It was something new, something so far away from his initial plans and expectation. It should scare him, but all he felt was excitement.

He hasn't been this thrilled in a long time, his life had been relatively peaceful and boring since the Chamber of Secrets was opened; that mental conflict and subsequent victory brought him joy even now.

But beating the very concept of the Horcrux, Tom Riddle's greatest achievement…his precious immortality. It would be so much better, triumphing over the most talented wizard alive at his best and in his own specialty.

Yes, Magnus was looking forward to it.

There was only one thing standing between him and his great confrontation, just a tiny detail he had to consider before dreaming about glorious battles and taking the dragon scroll.

How the fuck was he supposed to check a cursed cup's sapience?

Finishing the meal was a chore, and dealing with his technically father pretty reasonable worries and desire for connection even more so. Yet there was nothing he could do but bide his time, and give Sirius the proximity and reassurance he so desperately wants before going off to *sleep*.

He went up to the fifth floor, opening the door to his sparsely decorated room. It was largely empty, save for the strict necessities and a few gifts from his friends and family; a couple of photos here, a strangely phallic sculpture made of common household items there. It was cozy, at least for him. Kept clean by one diligent house-elf, who made sure not to inform Sirius of his secret stash of not-so-light artifacts he kept for research purposes only.

He waited a few minutes, busying himself by unpacking his stuff and arranging them neatly in his charmed closet in a way that felt really good to his desire for control.

Sorting everything by function, size, and chances of future use was cathartic, after all. He was sure he could find at least a dozen pseudo-intellectuals and other psychologists making a case for the mental benefits of tidying up.

'Fifteen minutes, unless he changed his habits, Sirius should've started working on the next Wizengamot meeting while drinking Jasmin tea. Two hours and half a dozen cups later, he'll head off to sleep like a baby.' Magnus thought.

His business was the kind that was best conducted at night and away from self-righteous eyes.

Unfortunately for Sirius, his stay in Azkaban was not enough for him to relinquish all the feel-good nonsense he picked up to resist his household's needlessly cruel ways.

Magnus knew you don't prevent a literal war with that kind of peace-loving mentality, and the irony was not lost on him.

With a few flicks of his wand, he summoned s duffle bag recently bought from a military surplus store, letting magic do his job and filling it while he checked another container he would soon be needing.

A black padded aluminium briefcase charmed to put its content in stasis. In addition to the collection of defensive charms Magnus often placed in the most random of objects, it was protected by both a muggle combination lock and a wizarding anti-theft charm.

'It might be too much, but you can't be too prudent with the kind of cargo I'll be carrying.' He closed it, and double-checked the duffel bag before shrinking it to a size he could easily carry in his pocket.

The briefcase he'll carry directly, previous attempts proved that his charmwork while outstanding tended to get messy when he stacked too many effects. Doubly so with the ever so intricate spatial charms, a troublesome branch of magic he just couldn't get right.

'Tempus.' He cast silently, it was ten in the afternoon, as good a time as any to get down to business.

Anywhere else, he would just apparate to downtown London or transform into eagle form before taking off. But Grimmauld Place was an old house, often inhabited by the most paranoid wizards of their era, and as such boasted a collection of wards that accounted for magics as rare as the animagus transformation.

All that was left was the tried and true method of disappearing in the dead of night, making sure to come back before Sirius feel the need to check on him.

He wouldn't notice his absence unless he focused on the wards, and Magnus knew Kreacher would gladly cover for him; which in house-elf terms was limited to not informing Sirius the instant he crossed the doorway.

Still better than nothing.

He considered pulling a trick out of the universal teenager arsenal and putting something under the cover of his bed to mimic his sleeping form or at least the magical variant. Conjuring a human-looking body was nothing new to him, his humanoid Lockhart animation was a disturbing but valid testament to his skill in that particular branch of magic.

He'll never forget the look on McGonnagall's face when their one-time Defence professor appeared out of nowhere and told her about the time he romanced a Norwegian harpy. That was a Patronus-worthy memory.

'No, it'll start degrading in a couple of hours at best, it might set off another enchantment in the house or just worry Kreacher.'

Briefcase in hand, he opened the doors, making sure to silence himself beforehand. He made his way down to the lower floors, always cautious about his father or loud house elf's possible presence.

The latter wasn't an issue, but he might insist that take a doggy bag filled with enough food to satisfy a whole classroom, the commotion would surely alert Sirius and then he'll be stuck explaining why he was going out on a potentially dangerous self-imposed mission that might or might not involve extensive law-breaking.

Without him.

It wasn't something he wished to experience, not one bit.

Each step was taken with caution, putting him on edge. This time, however, fortune was on his side. He was confronted by neither servant nor the family head, safely reaching the door.

He left behind the escapist mindset and adopted a more fitting technically criminal one. Took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped forward only to come face to face with a flying white shirt.

"Eh…what are you doing?" He looked up from the shirt, which was not a very strange defensive mechanism but rather the very person he sought to avoid.

"What are you doing here, Sirius? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Ran out of Jasmine tea, and I won't about to drink that disgusting sludge you call mocha," He said matter of factly, "And you?"

Yes, it would be a very troublesome discussion.

. . .

"Are we there yet?" Sirius asked from the passenger seat, his head sticking out of the black sedan's windows.

"No, we are not." He answered.

His father's antics were amusing at first, but try spending a two hours car ride with what is essentially a man-child with little to no knowledge of how the muggle world worked, and Magnus was sure you'd stop laughing real quick.

The pureblood had touched everything, tinkered with everything, and pestered both him and the cab driver with so many questions he just about blew the statue of secrecy.

"He has severe amnesia," Magnus said to the puzzled driver, old man Mordecai took it in stride, bless his soul.

The taxi driver being both old and half-deaf probably helped in that regard, now that he thought about it.

"Don't touch that," Magnus said curtly when his father's trouble-making hands started playing with the seat headrest.

He wasn't sure it could cause any real problem, but he thought the same about the seat belt buckle, and the man ended up nearly choking to death due to his negligence.

That was something he'll never forget.

'Oh Lily, screw you and your blood-based inferiority complex. Couldn't you at least teach them how to drive? Or just not be a total nuisance in public?' He thought, swapping his father's hand when he tried to mess with it anyway.

"Ouch, have some respect for your elders kiddo!"

Magnus paused, he did have a point.

"You're right," He said to Sirius, before looking at the driver seat, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience Mr. Mordecai."

"What?" The old man said, tapping his outdated hearing aid a couple times before smiling and giving up.

"Very funny," Sirius crossed his arms, grey eyes squinting.

"If you start pouting then I'll hex you, Sirius, I really will," Magnus said, locking eyes with him through the rearview mirror's glass.

"Don't forget the statue."

"F*ck the statue." He said calmly.

And not, it was not movie Dumbledore's definition of calm, that man could be charged with assault on minors for the move he pulled on Harry that one time.

"Okay, no need to get all prickly," Sirius raised his hand in a pacifying gesture, "I know you miss your girlfriend, but it's no reason to be so rude."

That was it. The sun will explode, the stars will be swallowed by creatures of the outer world, and Bernie Sanders will finally win an election because the end of the fucking world had come.

"Sirius Orion Black is lecturing me."

He seemed to take offense to that, huffing before he turned around.

"Hey! I'm not that bad, I can be surprisingly wise when you give me the chance." He might give him the benefit of the doubt if it didn't sound so much like whining.

Only cute girls and puppies could get away with whining, other people just made him want to shoot them like a football.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"I told you, the city of london."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Duh, I know we're in London, squirt." He said, urging him to say more, but all it achieved was making the desire to kick his wizarding ass come back stronger than ever.

But he fought hard against it, putting it to rest deep inside until he needed the fury to unleash stronger spells on those foolish enough to antagonize him.

Emotions were the strongest intent, he never forgot his first glimpse of magic, or his self-made vow to cremate the pink toad when the time is right.

He still couldn't believe he had forgotten the very basis of accidental magic in his earlier years, but the confusion of waking up in what he believed to be a fictional world was a pretty good justification in his humble opinion.

"You look constipated." Sirius said blandly.

Spending time with his father seemed to be very bad for his self-control.

Magnus sighed, massaging his temple before slowly explaining what he meant.

"We are in the capital, yes, but not in the city of London. The latter is essentially a city within the city, with its own set of unreasonable customs and self-aggrandizing traditions set by the bankers that dwell in it."

Sirius seemed to think for a moment, so Magnus prepared for the worst.

"So, like Gringotts?"

He was glad to be proved wrong, in this case.

"Yes, like Gringotts," He said, switching to French just in case, "Now I know what you're thinking, what on earth are we going to do with stuffy bankers at this hour of the night."

"No, I was thinking about that one Swedish broad I met the other day, but do continue please." Sirius grinned.

"The stuffy bankers there are also responsible for the euro-dollar exchange; in short, the easiest way for wealthy people to safeguard money of dubious origin in European land." He tried to keep a straight face, which was a bit hard when his father kept wiggling his eyebrows.

"Couldn't you ask the goblins to do it for you?"

"They only exchange galleons for British pounds, anything else would demand a considerable fee, potentially a percentage of the money." He said with a straight face.

Sirius looked him dead in the eyes.

"Magnus, we are too loaded to care and we both know it, now tell me real reason." He said, reminding him that for all his silliness, the man still dealt with people even more slippery than him on a daily basis.

"Fine," He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "In the worst-case scenario, assuming that Voldemort comes back and makes his presence known before we undermine what's left of his influence, Gringotts will probably claim neutrality in the conflict if they don't outright start backing him."

"Our vaults are protected by old magics, even in rebellion the goblins wouldn't dare steal them," Sirius said matter-of-factly, still looking at things from a clueless wizard's point of view.

That was exactly why he preferred dealing with things on his own, less explaining to do.

"Yes, but the records are not."

"You mean–"

"Yup." He nodded.

Sirius looked out the window for a few moments, muttering a few things under his breath that would send McGonagall into a frenzy.

"So the dark tosser could just waltz in and take a peek at all our expenses, not worrying at all," He chuckled darkly, "These goblins motherfu–"

"We have arrived, thank you for using Marco and Marco's cab company." The driver said, "I reckon you want me to wait for you lads?"

"We do," Magnus smiled back, "Thanks, Mordecai."

Letting Sirius pay the man, he looked at the corrupt financial district. It was an odd mix of modern buildings and skyscrapers, towering over medieval alleys.

It was a beautiful place, he had to give them that.

"It looks a bit like Diagon Alley," Sirius said, looking at the paved road and the old-timey feel the place had, instead of wizards and shops there were corporate drones and more than five hundred banks separated by the occasional high-end cafes and tourist baits, "Minus all the madness."

"Not really, here the crazy wear suits and polite smiles, they trade business cards and discuss the political and economic state of the world while drinking expensive liquors." He said, "But they are still just that, crazy people."

Of course, by politics, he meant coke, and by economics, he meant intricate schemes to launder money and directly transfer funds from tax heavens to the heart of London.

But Sirius didn't need to know that.

"So what's the plan?"

"The plan was for me to poly juice into Snape again and remove two hundred thousand dollars from our dear friends over there," He pointed at one of the identical neo-classical buildings that housed a whole bunch of parasites…bankers, a bunch of bankers, ready to serve people at all times of the night or day. "But since someone insisted on coming, they'll have to manage on their own while I take a stroll."

He cast a quick notice me not charm, before producing the shrunk-down duffel bag. With a tap of his wand, it grew back to normal size and levitated into a confused Sirius waiting hands.

With that done, he turned around and headed to one of the many overprized cafes for some much-deserved pastries.

"Wait, how am I supposed to do that?!" Sirius raced to stop him, but he only smiled.

"You're a wizard or not?"

He hoped that the old dog's confudus charm was on point, or Sirius would have to obliviate a whole lot of people.

It wasn't too hard to make people do something in character, like making a chef cook you something or a student finish his homework. Charming a few bankers into giving him some cash shouldn't be too hard, it's their job after all.

Bringing him alone wasn't that bad, after all.

"Be quick, we still have so much to do!" He said while considering his choice of pastry for the day.

Russian Crepes will do nicely, he might even bring some for the trip to Eaton Square.