Fic: We Could Be Heroes
Title: We Could Be Heroes
Author: lupinslittlesis
Rating: PG
Character(s): Sirius Black, Ron Weasley
Summary: Sirius needs a new wand. Ron needs to be taken seriously. They both find an adventure.
Author's notes: Thanks to snorkackcatcher for the beta! Written for the 2006 hp_holidaygen exchange.
Dirt. Would there ever be a time in his life again when he wasn't covered in dirt? Sirius looked around the room and then threw his rag down dramatically, more for release than because anyone was watching to see the statement.
"Why don't you use a wand for that?"
Then again, maybe not. Sirius turned to find Ron Weasley standing in the door, all red hair and freckles and awkwardness. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Ron shrugged.
"Where are the others?"
"Fred and George are holed up in their room working on some secret project. Dad's at work, Ginny's doing something Tonks asked her to do, and Mum, Bill, and McGonagall are locked in the kitchen and I'm not allowed in."
Sirius softened. "Sorry about that. I don't use a wand because I don't have one."
"Oh. Can't Professor Lupin get one for you?"
Sirius chuckled dryly. "I wish. But he's being watched too closely. If he suddenly appears in a wand shop- any wand shop- with enough money to buy a wand and looking for the kind I used to use- they’ll have him in Azkaban in a flash."
"What about Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore seems to have more important things on his mind," Sirius said bitterly.
Ron raised an eyebrow, but to Sirius's impressed surprise, didn't comment. Instead, he changed the subject. "I don't suppose you play chess at all?"
"I used to. I haven't played in years."
"Would you like to? I have a set in my room."
Sirius looked around at the filthy room, then looked at the boy who was feeling just as useless as Sirius felt. It wasn't a hard decision at all. "Sure. Let's go."
***
Some things hadn't changed, and Sirius had been convinced that, despite years away from the game, he could beat a fifteen-year-old pretty easily. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that wasn't the case at all.
"Check," Ron said, not a little smugly.
Sirius studied the board. "I could go take the bishop," one of the knights suggested.
"Leaving the queen wide open. Brilliant idea," a pawn said sarcastically.
"Oh, have you got a better one?"
"I do, so the both of you shut up," Sirius growled, moving another pawn.
Unfortunately, Ron saw his ploy immediately. "Have I got that bad, or are you that good?" Sirius asked.
The tops of Ron's ears turned red. "I used to play all the time with Bill and Percy."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Sirius picked up one of his captured pieces and turned it over in his fingers. The pawn squealed in protest, but he ignored it. "Were you and Percy close?"
Ron shrugged again. "He was kind of a berk, to be honest."
"Yeah. Brothers often are."
"Do you have brothers?"
"Had one. Regulus. He was younger than me." Sirius snorted. "He was the good boy. The perfect son. Prefect, Head Boy, twelve O.W.L.s and twelve N.E.W.T.s, not that that mattered when I did it."
"Sounds like Percy," Ron said.
Sirius smiled. "I remember this one time, I had to have been thirteen. I'd just learned this spell… Levicorpus, I think it was called. I dangled him by the ankle right in front of the House Elf heads." He chuckled. "It sounds stupid now, but when you're thirteen, that's the height of funny."
"It's still pretty funny," Ron admitted. "Of course, things like that are probably part of why Percy doesn't talk to us anymore." Ron moved his piece, taking Sirius's bishop. "Do you think you'll talk to him once your name is cleared?"
"Not unless he's haunting the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. You haven't met any ghosts named Regulus, have you?"
"He's dead?"
"Yeah. Died back in the first war." Sirius considered the board. "Listen, don't tell Harry that, do you mind?"
"Don't see any reason why I shouldn't," Ron muttered. "I'm not allowed to tell him anything, anyway."
Sirius didn't have an answer for that.
***
Sirius lay awake that night, listening to the creaks of the old house and the faint sounds of the few inhabitants. Not much different from most nights, but tonight felt different. There was something in the air that was exciting, alive. Not necessarily happy, but not far off from it, either.
Sirius was planning something again.
***
He found Ron outside in the garden, hot and sweaty and obviously sick of de-gnoming. Ron looked up gratefully when Sirius approached.
"I don't suppose you've come to help me?"
"Not in the least," Sirius said. Ron began to scowl, but Sirius grinned. "I've come to get you out of this."
"Really?" Ron looked at the garden and his face fell. "Mum will kill me if I haven't finished when she gets back, though."
"No she won't. I'll help you finish when we get back. And since I'll have a wand, I'll be able to show you a little trick to make it easier."
Ron eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you getting a wand?"
"You mean, where are we getting a wand?"
It clicked, and Ron brightened. "How will we get a wand?"
"That's the trick, isn't it? You got me thinking the other night. Now, I can't go into a wand shop, obviously. And Remus, even if he were here, wouldn’t be able to do it either. But you…."
"What kind of wand do you need?"
"Twelve and two-fifths inches. Mahogany, with a dragon heartstring core. It's not that uncommon, really."
"Hold on," Ron said. "I just got a new wand two years ago, and mine's willow and unicorn hair. Ollivander'll remember that."
Sirius grinned again. "We're not going to Ollivander's."
***
Getting out of Grimmauld Place was simple. Sirius borrowed Ron's wand and enchanted an old teacup to make a Portkey (although it took a great deal of concentration), and within minutes they were in a dirty alley. It was a Muggle type of place, with overflowing dustbins and the strong stink of urine.
"Where are we?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.
"We're in Sheffield," Sirius said. "I spent some time here during the seventies."
Ron looked around, baffled. "Why?"
"Desperation does crazy things to a man."
"Doesn't look like a place where a lot of Wizards would live."
"Ron, we're in an alleyway."
Ron flushed. "Oh yeah. Who does live here?"
"A fellow named Pyrite Hawking. I met him back in 1978. Not the sort you'd trust with a piece of parchment, much less your life, but he sells everything from cauldrons to unicorn blood."
"How'd you ever meet up with a bloke like that?"
"Mundungus Fletcher."
"Oh."
Sirius dug in his pocket and pressed some Galleons into Ron's hand. "You remember what I told you? About the wand?"
"Twelve and two-fifths inches, mahogany, and dragon heartstring?"
"Right. Whatever he tells you he wants, start five Galleons under it and bargain until he seems satisfied. I don't really care what I have to pay, but if you don't bargain at all, he'll think something's up."
"Right."
"Follow me."
He slipped into dog form and led Ron out of the alley. He noticed Ron was rather nervous, but he supposed he couldn't blame the boy. Sirius was nothing but excited.
Sheffield had changed a lot since Sirius had been here last. Of course, every place had changed a lot since Sirius had been there last, and there wasn't a lot of time to consider the matter. He just hoped he remembered where Hawking was, and that he was still there.
There must have been a God, because when they stopped between an upmarket Muggle restaurant and a ladies' hairdresser, the two establishments moved aside to reveal an old, cluttered shop front, with Treasure Trove in tacky, peeling gilt letters. Sirius nudged Ron, who seemed to be frozen with some sort of incredulity, and they went inside.
Pyrite was exactly as Sirius remembered him, which was odd because no one else was. He still had long, silken black hair, a well-kept violet silk robe, and wore way too much makeup. He eyed Ron with such exaggerated interest that Sirius had to nudge the boy forward again.
"Can I help you?"
"Er, yeah. I need a wand."
"A wand?"
"Yeah. Twelve and two-fifths inches, mahogany, and dragon heartstring. Mine broke."
Pyrite raised an eyebrow. "How exactly does a boy like you break a wand?"
"Well…" Ron shifted, and for a moment, Sirius thought that it was all over right there. "My dad. He works with Muggle artifacts, see, and he had this car. Well, my friend and I tried to fly it, and we did it, too, but we had some trouble landing."
"Some trouble?"
"Well, yeah. We crashed it into the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts."
Pyrite threw his head back and laughed. "That would break a wand, all right, along with a few other things," he said, winking. Sirius sighed. Pyrite's sense of humor wouldn't be so frustrating if his intended double entendres were actually funny.
"What kind of wand are you looking for?" Pyrite began, but before Ron could answer, the door was flung open.
The two men who entered were huge. One looked like a stone with ears, and the other had an unfortunate resemblance to a troll. Sirius heard Ron snicker, and sharpened his focus on the pair.
"We're looking for something," said the rock shaped one, with all the grace and tact of… well… a rock.
"I'm sure," Pyrite said. "However, I was helping this young gentleman. Feel free to look around the shop."
"You'll help us first," the troll said. "Or you won't like the consequences."
"Consequences?"
"Yeah. Consequences."
"Why doesn't he just flash his Dark Mark?" Ron muttered, and Sirius nipped him gently. Ron glanced down apologetically.
"Do you mind?" Pyrite asked Ron.
Sirius thought of something and nudged Ron with his nose again, but Ron must have been thinking along the same lines because he'd begun saying, "Go ahead," before Sirius could react.
"What are you gentlemen looking for?"
"We've been told you have some old plans of the Ministry of Magic."
"Well, of course, but they're hardly up to date. They're a collector's item."
"We're collectors," said The Rock.
"I see," Pyrite said dryly. "Well then. Let me show you what I've got."
He made a big show out of pulling out sheaves of parchment. The Rock and The Troll looked at them, literally grunting. Ron was apparently having a hard time not laughing, if that's what those muffled snorts were. Sirius couldn't blame him. He had to conclude this must not be that important… or that Voldemort was really desperate for followers.
But still….
Finally, the documents were bought for eighteen Galleons and twenty two Sickles, and rolled into a long tube with a swift flick of the wand. Pyrite handed them over. "Gentlemen, I wish I could say it's been a pleasure."
The Troll grunted, but The Rock finally condescended to notice Ron and Sirius again.
"What kind of dog?" he asked Ron. "He looks like a mutt."
"He is," Ron said defensively.
"Dumb dog."
"Actually," Ron said, "he's smart. Not inbreeding dogs makes them smarter." Sirius nipped him once more before he could say works with people, too, although if there was ever a case against human inbreeding, the two standing in front of them were it.
The Rock apparently couldn't come up with a suitable response, so he just muttered. "Bloody stupid kid," and stomped out. The Troll followed.
Pyrite watched them go. Unlike his customers, Pyrite was no fool, Sirius knew. He knew exactly what he was dealing with. But he didn't comment; instead, he just turned back to his shelves and began rummaging for the wand.
"There sure is a lot of stuff in here," Ron said quietly.
"I've traveled quite a bit, my dear boy. There are always bargains, wherever you look. Like, for example, this wand here. It's twelve and a half inches- the closest I can come- mahogany, and dragon heartstring. And only seventeen Galleons. A true bargain, right?"
Ron looked down at Sirius, who nudged him again. "I dunno. I said twelve and two-fifths. I'll give you twelve Galleons for it."
"Ah, but look at the mahogany. Not a scratch on the wood. How about fourteen Galleons, seven Sickles?"
"What kind of dragon heartstring is it?" Ron asked, and Sirius was impressed. He wouldn't have thought to ask that when he was fifteen.
"Swedish Short-Snout. One of the best."
"I wanted Hungarian Horntail. I'll give you thirteen Galleons."
"Hungarian Horntail would have cost twenty. I'll give it to you for thirteen Galleons and eight Sickles."
"You'd pay a lot less at Ollivander's," Ron pointed out. "Thirteen Galleons."
"I assume there's a very good reason- like not wanting your parents to know your wand is broken- that you're not doing just that. Goods of this nature don't come cheap, my boy. Thirteen Galleons, eight Sickles."
"All right." Ron fished the money Sirius had given him out of his pocket, and Sirius couldn't help but notice that the boy's hand tightened convulsively over it for a moment before he handed over the coins. Sirius hadn't really thought about that part of it, and felt a tiny pang of guilt which was quickly forgotten as he got a glimpse of the wand.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Pyrite said. "And as a bonus…" he gave Ron a short tube. "Now, head on out, please. I have work to do."
Ron looked down at Sirius, and Sirius did the best he could do to shrug- a hard gesture when you had four legs instead of two. But they saw themselves out, and once they did, Sirius took the risk of turning back into a man.
"Here," Ron said, handing him the wand and his change.
"Keep it," Sirius said of the coins, taking the wand.
"But-"
"Ron, this is the first time I've held a wand of my own in fourteen years. Consider it a commission." With that, Sirius pointed the wand at a passing ant. "Engorgio!" The ant suddenly swelled to three times its size, and Sirius whooped.
"Maybe you should become a dog again, Sirius."
"Nonsense. We're in Sheffield. Muggles can't see us. It's fine. Watch!" He pointed his wand at a red telephone box and suddenly it became a flamingo, which flapped its wings, squawked, and ran off. He turned to a sign advertising a pub, and the letters began to dance. He trained his wand on Ron, and Ron's hair began to grow. "It looks good long."
"Muggles can see this! Stop it." Ron brushed irritably at his hair and Sirius obliged. Showing off his newly reacquired magical prowess probably wasn't the best idea, but it just felt so good to have a wand that worked easily again.
"What was the other thing that Pyrite gave you?" he asked.
Ron pulled the tube out of his pocket and frowned. "Dunno. Couldn't have been that important."
"Maybe not. Or maybe it is." Sirius took the tube from Ron and studied it. "Engorgio," he muttered, tapping the tube. As he expected, it enlarged to a tube long enough to hold documents.
"Blimey," Ron muttered. "You don't think…?"
"It can't be," Sirius said. He'd never known Pyrite as the type to take a stand about anything that didn't immediately impact himself. But when he pulled out the parchment and unrolled it, there they were- the plans of the Ministry.
"We should get these to Dumbledore," Ron said. Sirius met his eyes and smiled. He was certain they could both hear the trumpeting of their triumph and the thanks of Dumbledore.
"We should."
They began walking back to the alley, Sirius fiddling with his new wand. "Is there a reason you're not shifting back?" Ron pressed again.
Sirius shrugged. "We'll be all right. Not a lot of wizards live in Sheffield, and now that I have a wand again…." He ran his fingers over it lovingly. "It will be fine."
"There they are!"
They both looked back to see The Troll and The Rock barreling at them. "Oh, shit!" Sirius breathed, and they began to run.
"Why are they chasing us?" Ron panted as they pelted down the pavement and whipped around a corner.
"Because we have the plans they were supposed to get."
"I know that. But how do they know we have them?"
"Must have paid off Pyrite." Hawking's plan became clear in Sirius's head. Sell the menacing Death Eaters the wrong plans, give the right ones to some poor saps, and then just wait until the Death Eaters worked it out and get paid a second time. Opportunistic bastard.
"Not much further," he said, almost disappointed.
"Why don't we turn around and blast them?" Ron asked.
"Running never used to be my second nature," Sirius growled, ashamed that he hadn't thought of it. It had been so long since he'd been in a good fight, and while these two probably wouldn't qualify, still… he slowed down. "Got your wand?"
"Yeah."
The Troll and The Rock were almost there, and Sirius sent a Stunner at The Troll who fell with a thud that probably cracked the pavement beneath him, but then The Rock was right there and apparently bright enough to know the counter spell. Sirius braced himself for another, but The Rock turned his attention from Sirius and to Ron.
Sirius never had been gifted in Divination (just extremely imaginative), and his reflexes were slower than they used to be. But somehow, he knew the words The Rock was going to say before they were out of his mouth. He shoved Ron aside, and a bolt of green light hit him instead.
He didn't die. He wasn't remotely shocked- he'd suspected that perhaps neither of the two morons coming at them had enough power to cast Sectumsempra correctly. But now there was blood streaming freely from his nose, he had a splitting headache, and it was only because the two dolts were still coming at them that he didn't lean over and vomit all over the pavement. Instead he grabbed Ron's hand, yanked him out of his stupefied daze, and ran.
The alley was right there. Sirius nearly sobbed with relief when he saw it, not because he was afraid for himself, but because he was afraid for Ron.
"We shouldn't have left the Portkey back here," Ron gasped.
Sirius wanted to agree, but if he opened his mouth he knew he'd throw up. Only twenty yards-
"We've got them trapped! Get them!"
There was a curious popping sound, and then a loud roar, as if all of the air in the alley was being sucked into a giant-
"Fireball!" Ron shouted.
Sirius didn't think- he just dove. He came up about two yards short, rolled, and grabbed Ron's ankle with one hand and the tea cup with the other and twisted so the teacup was against Ron's shoe. He felt a jerk behind his navel as the Portkey took effect just as the flame front nearly incinerated them.
***
They found themselves in a heap on the floor of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Sirius pushed Ron away and turned over, vomiting on to the floor. When he was done, he gripped his new wand and Vanished the mess, and then looked at Ron, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"That," Ron said, "was…"
"I think the word you use these days is cool," Sirius agreed. He flopped onto his back, gagged on the blood still coming from his nose, and sat back up.
"Wicked, I think," Ron said. "Are you all right?"
Sirius waved a hand. "It will pass." He touched his wand to his nose and felt the blood stop. "Worthless sack of crud couldn't even cast a simple curse right. We could have taken them."
"That had to have been Crabbe and Goyle's dads. They're even worse," Ron laughed.
"Hard to believe."
"Crabbe doesn't even know which way a snake's tongue moves." They both laughed.
"Still," Sirius sighed, "it's not every day a man gets to run away from a fireball down an alley. Every man should get to do that once in his life."
"It's classic hero stuff," Ron agreed. "And did you see-"
"Shh!" Sirius hissed, as he heard footsteps.
"What are the two of you doing sitting on the floor?" Molly Weasley demanded.
Ron looked guilty, but Sirius stood up. "Wrestling match. I'm getting too old for this," he groaned.
"A wrestling match? Honestly, you're both too old for that. Is the garden de-gnomed yet?"
"Um…"
"Er…"
Molly punched her hands to her hips in exasperation. "Ronald, I asked you to do one thing, and one thing only! De-gnome the garden! And I come in here to find you wrestling?"
"Relax, Molly," Sirius said. "I'll help him."
"Normally, I would tell you not to. But since I suspect this was your idea, you both get your tails right out there!"
"Yes, Molly."
"Yes, Mum."
They sheepishly made their way out. When they were no longer in ear shot, Sirius said, "You realize we can't tell anyone about this?"
The way Ron rolled his eyes answered that question.
Sirius made a face. "We'll have to tell Dumbledore we found the plans cleaning."
"Yeah. We could at least say we saved them from a particular vicious Doxy."
With matching sighs, they turned to the garden and the task at hand. Sirius could see months of boredom and frustration in front of him, with tasks like this to fill the days. But he hummed happily anyway.
Author: lupinslittlesis
Rating: PG
Character(s): Sirius Black, Ron Weasley
Summary: Sirius needs a new wand. Ron needs to be taken seriously. They both find an adventure.
Author's notes: Thanks to snorkackcatcher for the beta! Written for the 2006 hp_holidaygen exchange.
Dirt. Would there ever be a time in his life again when he wasn't covered in dirt? Sirius looked around the room and then threw his rag down dramatically, more for release than because anyone was watching to see the statement.
"Why don't you use a wand for that?"
Then again, maybe not. Sirius turned to find Ron Weasley standing in the door, all red hair and freckles and awkwardness. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Ron shrugged.
"Where are the others?"
"Fred and George are holed up in their room working on some secret project. Dad's at work, Ginny's doing something Tonks asked her to do, and Mum, Bill, and McGonagall are locked in the kitchen and I'm not allowed in."
Sirius softened. "Sorry about that. I don't use a wand because I don't have one."
"Oh. Can't Professor Lupin get one for you?"
Sirius chuckled dryly. "I wish. But he's being watched too closely. If he suddenly appears in a wand shop- any wand shop- with enough money to buy a wand and looking for the kind I used to use- they’ll have him in Azkaban in a flash."
"What about Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore seems to have more important things on his mind," Sirius said bitterly.
Ron raised an eyebrow, but to Sirius's impressed surprise, didn't comment. Instead, he changed the subject. "I don't suppose you play chess at all?"
"I used to. I haven't played in years."
"Would you like to? I have a set in my room."
Sirius looked around at the filthy room, then looked at the boy who was feeling just as useless as Sirius felt. It wasn't a hard decision at all. "Sure. Let's go."
***
Some things hadn't changed, and Sirius had been convinced that, despite years away from the game, he could beat a fifteen-year-old pretty easily. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that wasn't the case at all.
"Check," Ron said, not a little smugly.
Sirius studied the board. "I could go take the bishop," one of the knights suggested.
"Leaving the queen wide open. Brilliant idea," a pawn said sarcastically.
"Oh, have you got a better one?"
"I do, so the both of you shut up," Sirius growled, moving another pawn.
Unfortunately, Ron saw his ploy immediately. "Have I got that bad, or are you that good?" Sirius asked.
The tops of Ron's ears turned red. "I used to play all the time with Bill and Percy."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Sirius picked up one of his captured pieces and turned it over in his fingers. The pawn squealed in protest, but he ignored it. "Were you and Percy close?"
Ron shrugged again. "He was kind of a berk, to be honest."
"Yeah. Brothers often are."
"Do you have brothers?"
"Had one. Regulus. He was younger than me." Sirius snorted. "He was the good boy. The perfect son. Prefect, Head Boy, twelve O.W.L.s and twelve N.E.W.T.s, not that that mattered when I did it."
"Sounds like Percy," Ron said.
Sirius smiled. "I remember this one time, I had to have been thirteen. I'd just learned this spell… Levicorpus, I think it was called. I dangled him by the ankle right in front of the House Elf heads." He chuckled. "It sounds stupid now, but when you're thirteen, that's the height of funny."
"It's still pretty funny," Ron admitted. "Of course, things like that are probably part of why Percy doesn't talk to us anymore." Ron moved his piece, taking Sirius's bishop. "Do you think you'll talk to him once your name is cleared?"
"Not unless he's haunting the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. You haven't met any ghosts named Regulus, have you?"
"He's dead?"
"Yeah. Died back in the first war." Sirius considered the board. "Listen, don't tell Harry that, do you mind?"
"Don't see any reason why I shouldn't," Ron muttered. "I'm not allowed to tell him anything, anyway."
Sirius didn't have an answer for that.
***
Sirius lay awake that night, listening to the creaks of the old house and the faint sounds of the few inhabitants. Not much different from most nights, but tonight felt different. There was something in the air that was exciting, alive. Not necessarily happy, but not far off from it, either.
Sirius was planning something again.
***
He found Ron outside in the garden, hot and sweaty and obviously sick of de-gnoming. Ron looked up gratefully when Sirius approached.
"I don't suppose you've come to help me?"
"Not in the least," Sirius said. Ron began to scowl, but Sirius grinned. "I've come to get you out of this."
"Really?" Ron looked at the garden and his face fell. "Mum will kill me if I haven't finished when she gets back, though."
"No she won't. I'll help you finish when we get back. And since I'll have a wand, I'll be able to show you a little trick to make it easier."
Ron eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you getting a wand?"
"You mean, where are we getting a wand?"
It clicked, and Ron brightened. "How will we get a wand?"
"That's the trick, isn't it? You got me thinking the other night. Now, I can't go into a wand shop, obviously. And Remus, even if he were here, wouldn’t be able to do it either. But you…."
"What kind of wand do you need?"
"Twelve and two-fifths inches. Mahogany, with a dragon heartstring core. It's not that uncommon, really."
"Hold on," Ron said. "I just got a new wand two years ago, and mine's willow and unicorn hair. Ollivander'll remember that."
Sirius grinned again. "We're not going to Ollivander's."
***
Getting out of Grimmauld Place was simple. Sirius borrowed Ron's wand and enchanted an old teacup to make a Portkey (although it took a great deal of concentration), and within minutes they were in a dirty alley. It was a Muggle type of place, with overflowing dustbins and the strong stink of urine.
"Where are we?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.
"We're in Sheffield," Sirius said. "I spent some time here during the seventies."
Ron looked around, baffled. "Why?"
"Desperation does crazy things to a man."
"Doesn't look like a place where a lot of Wizards would live."
"Ron, we're in an alleyway."
Ron flushed. "Oh yeah. Who does live here?"
"A fellow named Pyrite Hawking. I met him back in 1978. Not the sort you'd trust with a piece of parchment, much less your life, but he sells everything from cauldrons to unicorn blood."
"How'd you ever meet up with a bloke like that?"
"Mundungus Fletcher."
"Oh."
Sirius dug in his pocket and pressed some Galleons into Ron's hand. "You remember what I told you? About the wand?"
"Twelve and two-fifths inches, mahogany, and dragon heartstring?"
"Right. Whatever he tells you he wants, start five Galleons under it and bargain until he seems satisfied. I don't really care what I have to pay, but if you don't bargain at all, he'll think something's up."
"Right."
"Follow me."
He slipped into dog form and led Ron out of the alley. He noticed Ron was rather nervous, but he supposed he couldn't blame the boy. Sirius was nothing but excited.
Sheffield had changed a lot since Sirius had been here last. Of course, every place had changed a lot since Sirius had been there last, and there wasn't a lot of time to consider the matter. He just hoped he remembered where Hawking was, and that he was still there.
There must have been a God, because when they stopped between an upmarket Muggle restaurant and a ladies' hairdresser, the two establishments moved aside to reveal an old, cluttered shop front, with Treasure Trove in tacky, peeling gilt letters. Sirius nudged Ron, who seemed to be frozen with some sort of incredulity, and they went inside.
Pyrite was exactly as Sirius remembered him, which was odd because no one else was. He still had long, silken black hair, a well-kept violet silk robe, and wore way too much makeup. He eyed Ron with such exaggerated interest that Sirius had to nudge the boy forward again.
"Can I help you?"
"Er, yeah. I need a wand."
"A wand?"
"Yeah. Twelve and two-fifths inches, mahogany, and dragon heartstring. Mine broke."
Pyrite raised an eyebrow. "How exactly does a boy like you break a wand?"
"Well…" Ron shifted, and for a moment, Sirius thought that it was all over right there. "My dad. He works with Muggle artifacts, see, and he had this car. Well, my friend and I tried to fly it, and we did it, too, but we had some trouble landing."
"Some trouble?"
"Well, yeah. We crashed it into the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts."
Pyrite threw his head back and laughed. "That would break a wand, all right, along with a few other things," he said, winking. Sirius sighed. Pyrite's sense of humor wouldn't be so frustrating if his intended double entendres were actually funny.
"What kind of wand are you looking for?" Pyrite began, but before Ron could answer, the door was flung open.
The two men who entered were huge. One looked like a stone with ears, and the other had an unfortunate resemblance to a troll. Sirius heard Ron snicker, and sharpened his focus on the pair.
"We're looking for something," said the rock shaped one, with all the grace and tact of… well… a rock.
"I'm sure," Pyrite said. "However, I was helping this young gentleman. Feel free to look around the shop."
"You'll help us first," the troll said. "Or you won't like the consequences."
"Consequences?"
"Yeah. Consequences."
"Why doesn't he just flash his Dark Mark?" Ron muttered, and Sirius nipped him gently. Ron glanced down apologetically.
"Do you mind?" Pyrite asked Ron.
Sirius thought of something and nudged Ron with his nose again, but Ron must have been thinking along the same lines because he'd begun saying, "Go ahead," before Sirius could react.
"What are you gentlemen looking for?"
"We've been told you have some old plans of the Ministry of Magic."
"Well, of course, but they're hardly up to date. They're a collector's item."
"We're collectors," said The Rock.
"I see," Pyrite said dryly. "Well then. Let me show you what I've got."
He made a big show out of pulling out sheaves of parchment. The Rock and The Troll looked at them, literally grunting. Ron was apparently having a hard time not laughing, if that's what those muffled snorts were. Sirius couldn't blame him. He had to conclude this must not be that important… or that Voldemort was really desperate for followers.
But still….
Finally, the documents were bought for eighteen Galleons and twenty two Sickles, and rolled into a long tube with a swift flick of the wand. Pyrite handed them over. "Gentlemen, I wish I could say it's been a pleasure."
The Troll grunted, but The Rock finally condescended to notice Ron and Sirius again.
"What kind of dog?" he asked Ron. "He looks like a mutt."
"He is," Ron said defensively.
"Dumb dog."
"Actually," Ron said, "he's smart. Not inbreeding dogs makes them smarter." Sirius nipped him once more before he could say works with people, too, although if there was ever a case against human inbreeding, the two standing in front of them were it.
The Rock apparently couldn't come up with a suitable response, so he just muttered. "Bloody stupid kid," and stomped out. The Troll followed.
Pyrite watched them go. Unlike his customers, Pyrite was no fool, Sirius knew. He knew exactly what he was dealing with. But he didn't comment; instead, he just turned back to his shelves and began rummaging for the wand.
"There sure is a lot of stuff in here," Ron said quietly.
"I've traveled quite a bit, my dear boy. There are always bargains, wherever you look. Like, for example, this wand here. It's twelve and a half inches- the closest I can come- mahogany, and dragon heartstring. And only seventeen Galleons. A true bargain, right?"
Ron looked down at Sirius, who nudged him again. "I dunno. I said twelve and two-fifths. I'll give you twelve Galleons for it."
"Ah, but look at the mahogany. Not a scratch on the wood. How about fourteen Galleons, seven Sickles?"
"What kind of dragon heartstring is it?" Ron asked, and Sirius was impressed. He wouldn't have thought to ask that when he was fifteen.
"Swedish Short-Snout. One of the best."
"I wanted Hungarian Horntail. I'll give you thirteen Galleons."
"Hungarian Horntail would have cost twenty. I'll give it to you for thirteen Galleons and eight Sickles."
"You'd pay a lot less at Ollivander's," Ron pointed out. "Thirteen Galleons."
"I assume there's a very good reason- like not wanting your parents to know your wand is broken- that you're not doing just that. Goods of this nature don't come cheap, my boy. Thirteen Galleons, eight Sickles."
"All right." Ron fished the money Sirius had given him out of his pocket, and Sirius couldn't help but notice that the boy's hand tightened convulsively over it for a moment before he handed over the coins. Sirius hadn't really thought about that part of it, and felt a tiny pang of guilt which was quickly forgotten as he got a glimpse of the wand.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Pyrite said. "And as a bonus…" he gave Ron a short tube. "Now, head on out, please. I have work to do."
Ron looked down at Sirius, and Sirius did the best he could do to shrug- a hard gesture when you had four legs instead of two. But they saw themselves out, and once they did, Sirius took the risk of turning back into a man.
"Here," Ron said, handing him the wand and his change.
"Keep it," Sirius said of the coins, taking the wand.
"But-"
"Ron, this is the first time I've held a wand of my own in fourteen years. Consider it a commission." With that, Sirius pointed the wand at a passing ant. "Engorgio!" The ant suddenly swelled to three times its size, and Sirius whooped.
"Maybe you should become a dog again, Sirius."
"Nonsense. We're in Sheffield. Muggles can't see us. It's fine. Watch!" He pointed his wand at a red telephone box and suddenly it became a flamingo, which flapped its wings, squawked, and ran off. He turned to a sign advertising a pub, and the letters began to dance. He trained his wand on Ron, and Ron's hair began to grow. "It looks good long."
"Muggles can see this! Stop it." Ron brushed irritably at his hair and Sirius obliged. Showing off his newly reacquired magical prowess probably wasn't the best idea, but it just felt so good to have a wand that worked easily again.
"What was the other thing that Pyrite gave you?" he asked.
Ron pulled the tube out of his pocket and frowned. "Dunno. Couldn't have been that important."
"Maybe not. Or maybe it is." Sirius took the tube from Ron and studied it. "Engorgio," he muttered, tapping the tube. As he expected, it enlarged to a tube long enough to hold documents.
"Blimey," Ron muttered. "You don't think…?"
"It can't be," Sirius said. He'd never known Pyrite as the type to take a stand about anything that didn't immediately impact himself. But when he pulled out the parchment and unrolled it, there they were- the plans of the Ministry.
"We should get these to Dumbledore," Ron said. Sirius met his eyes and smiled. He was certain they could both hear the trumpeting of their triumph and the thanks of Dumbledore.
"We should."
They began walking back to the alley, Sirius fiddling with his new wand. "Is there a reason you're not shifting back?" Ron pressed again.
Sirius shrugged. "We'll be all right. Not a lot of wizards live in Sheffield, and now that I have a wand again…." He ran his fingers over it lovingly. "It will be fine."
"There they are!"
They both looked back to see The Troll and The Rock barreling at them. "Oh, shit!" Sirius breathed, and they began to run.
"Why are they chasing us?" Ron panted as they pelted down the pavement and whipped around a corner.
"Because we have the plans they were supposed to get."
"I know that. But how do they know we have them?"
"Must have paid off Pyrite." Hawking's plan became clear in Sirius's head. Sell the menacing Death Eaters the wrong plans, give the right ones to some poor saps, and then just wait until the Death Eaters worked it out and get paid a second time. Opportunistic bastard.
"Not much further," he said, almost disappointed.
"Why don't we turn around and blast them?" Ron asked.
"Running never used to be my second nature," Sirius growled, ashamed that he hadn't thought of it. It had been so long since he'd been in a good fight, and while these two probably wouldn't qualify, still… he slowed down. "Got your wand?"
"Yeah."
The Troll and The Rock were almost there, and Sirius sent a Stunner at The Troll who fell with a thud that probably cracked the pavement beneath him, but then The Rock was right there and apparently bright enough to know the counter spell. Sirius braced himself for another, but The Rock turned his attention from Sirius and to Ron.
Sirius never had been gifted in Divination (just extremely imaginative), and his reflexes were slower than they used to be. But somehow, he knew the words The Rock was going to say before they were out of his mouth. He shoved Ron aside, and a bolt of green light hit him instead.
He didn't die. He wasn't remotely shocked- he'd suspected that perhaps neither of the two morons coming at them had enough power to cast Sectumsempra correctly. But now there was blood streaming freely from his nose, he had a splitting headache, and it was only because the two dolts were still coming at them that he didn't lean over and vomit all over the pavement. Instead he grabbed Ron's hand, yanked him out of his stupefied daze, and ran.
The alley was right there. Sirius nearly sobbed with relief when he saw it, not because he was afraid for himself, but because he was afraid for Ron.
"We shouldn't have left the Portkey back here," Ron gasped.
Sirius wanted to agree, but if he opened his mouth he knew he'd throw up. Only twenty yards-
"We've got them trapped! Get them!"
There was a curious popping sound, and then a loud roar, as if all of the air in the alley was being sucked into a giant-
"Fireball!" Ron shouted.
Sirius didn't think- he just dove. He came up about two yards short, rolled, and grabbed Ron's ankle with one hand and the tea cup with the other and twisted so the teacup was against Ron's shoe. He felt a jerk behind his navel as the Portkey took effect just as the flame front nearly incinerated them.
***
They found themselves in a heap on the floor of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Sirius pushed Ron away and turned over, vomiting on to the floor. When he was done, he gripped his new wand and Vanished the mess, and then looked at Ron, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"That," Ron said, "was…"
"I think the word you use these days is cool," Sirius agreed. He flopped onto his back, gagged on the blood still coming from his nose, and sat back up.
"Wicked, I think," Ron said. "Are you all right?"
Sirius waved a hand. "It will pass." He touched his wand to his nose and felt the blood stop. "Worthless sack of crud couldn't even cast a simple curse right. We could have taken them."
"That had to have been Crabbe and Goyle's dads. They're even worse," Ron laughed.
"Hard to believe."
"Crabbe doesn't even know which way a snake's tongue moves." They both laughed.
"Still," Sirius sighed, "it's not every day a man gets to run away from a fireball down an alley. Every man should get to do that once in his life."
"It's classic hero stuff," Ron agreed. "And did you see-"
"Shh!" Sirius hissed, as he heard footsteps.
"What are the two of you doing sitting on the floor?" Molly Weasley demanded.
Ron looked guilty, but Sirius stood up. "Wrestling match. I'm getting too old for this," he groaned.
"A wrestling match? Honestly, you're both too old for that. Is the garden de-gnomed yet?"
"Um…"
"Er…"
Molly punched her hands to her hips in exasperation. "Ronald, I asked you to do one thing, and one thing only! De-gnome the garden! And I come in here to find you wrestling?"
"Relax, Molly," Sirius said. "I'll help him."
"Normally, I would tell you not to. But since I suspect this was your idea, you both get your tails right out there!"
"Yes, Molly."
"Yes, Mum."
They sheepishly made their way out. When they were no longer in ear shot, Sirius said, "You realize we can't tell anyone about this?"
The way Ron rolled his eyes answered that question.
Sirius made a face. "We'll have to tell Dumbledore we found the plans cleaning."
"Yeah. We could at least say we saved them from a particular vicious Doxy."
With matching sighs, they turned to the garden and the task at hand. Sirius could see months of boredom and frustration in front of him, with tasks like this to fill the days. But he hummed happily anyway.