For a moment there was chaos as the threshold of Number Twelve erupted in noise. Tonks said, “HEY!” very loudly; Mundungus let loose a stream of colorful expletives; from inside the house, alarmed shouts mingled with the full-blown shrieks now pelting out into the night.
“”DISGRACE TO MY BLOOD, SHAME OF MY LIFE, BRINGING FILTH INTO YOUR FATHER’S HOUSE””
The door to Number Thirteen flew open as its occupants stared past to Number Eleven to see what all the commotion was about. Snarling, Moody bodily shoved the other three inside and slammed the door behind them.
Suddenly finding themselves cramped together in a dark hallway, the confusion peaked as the shrieking was intensified three-fold. Shouldering his way through the flailing limbs around him, Kingsley stared around with wide eyes, body tensed, searching for”
There. On the floor. His wand flew up again”and kept flying.
“Stop! STOP!”
Everyone froze. A pale, drawn man with gray-flecked hair stood in the middle of the hall, arms outstretched, Kingsley’s disarmed wand in one hand, his own wand pointed at Kingsley. Behind him, several more people crowded at the other end of the hall, craning their necks to see what was happening. At his feet, the stunned figure of Sirius Black lay crumpled on the molding carpet, a small burst of blood spattered over his nose and mouth. For a moment, the shrieking, which Kingsley could see came from a portrait of a deranged old woman on the wall, screeched alone into the otherwise silent hall.
“Everyone just calm down,” the man reiterated. Squinting against the murky light, Kingsley thought the man looked familiar. Taking in the light brown hair, the weary eyes, he tried to imagine the man smiling and young.
“Remus Lupin,” Kingsley murmured warily, eyes flicking between the wands in the Lupin’s hands.
Lupin looked just as warily back, wand still ready.
“It’s all right, Remus,” Tonks piped suddenly, over the shrieking voice. “He’s with us; Mad-Eye just inducted him. Kingsley’s in charge of the hunt for Sirius,” she finished, looking inquiringly back at Moody.
Lupin’s gaze switched to the ex-Auror. “You didn’t tell him?”
Bemused, Kingsley turned to Moody, who shrugged, rubbing his grizzled chin. “Probably shoulda done that first, come to think of it.”
Kingsley forced himself to remain calm. “What exactly is going on?”
Lupin sighed, looking hopelessly from the group at the door, to the people behind him, to the portrait, who was still screaming with all her might. Dropping his wand-arm, he rubbed his eyes.
“All right. Just”everyone hold tight for a minute. Arthur,” he called, and a redheaded man Kingsley recognized from the Ministry hurried forward. “Take care of the portrait, can you please?”
The man nodded and began struggling vainly with the moth-eaten curtains on either side of the painting. Lupin looked back to Kingsley, his face apologetic. “I’m sorry about this,” he said kindly. “If you’ll just wait a few minutes, I promise we can explain everything.”
Kingsley stared at the inert form lying between them. “But””
“He’s not really”well, don’t worry”we’ll explain.” With this vague assurance, Lupin knelt quickly and muttered, “Enervate.” Sirius Black stirred, groaning, and sat up, looking dazedly up at them all. His gray eyes fell on Kingsley. As one, both men tensed, Black’s hand flew to his robes.
“Oi, careful there,” Mundungus advised nervously, as Moody and Lupin each laid a restraining hand on Kingsley and Black.
“Everyone calm down,” Lupin repeated soothingly, helping Black to his feet. Black glared at Kingsley, wiping the blood off his face with the back of one hand.
“Who’s this nutter, then?” he demanded indignantly, shouting a bit above the continued screams of the portrait, which Arthur Weasley was still struggling to silence.
Lupin hid a smile as Moody stumped forward. “Kingsley Shacklebolt, new member of the Order.”
“He’s the Auror in charge of the hunt for you,” Tonks offered helpfully.
“Ah.” Sirius Black cast an appraising look over Kingsley. “Huh. Nice reflexes, glad I didn’t run into you earlier. Hold on a sec, can you?”
Kingsley watched in bewilderment as Black turned his back on them all and matter-of-factly launched himself at the curtains with which Mr. Weasley was still struggling. With an almighty effort, the two men finally managed to drag them over the screaming portrait, and blessed silence fell over the hall.
“Thank God,” muttered Black, facing Kingsley once more. “Now then,” he continued in a whisper. “Did you attack me out of habit or are you just high-strung?”
“Moody didn’t tell ‘im, mate,” Mundungus murmured, sending a whiff of stale whiskey through the hall.
“Didn’t tell me what?” Kingsley growled, his normally tranquil voice rumbling dangerously. He did not appreciate being left in the dark.
But Black was rounding on Moody. “You didn’t tell him?”
Moody shrugged again. “Didn’t think it was safe mentioning you where anybody could hear””
“This is safe?” Black interrupted, waving a hand at his bloodied nose.
“Meant to tell him on the flight over. Must’ve slipped my mind,” Moody mused, unperturbed.
“Slipped your mind? How could it slip your mind; it’s my house!”
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Now Kingsley remembered why the address had sounded familiar.
Moody glared right back at Black, refusing to give ground. “Well you should know better than to open the door, shouldn’t you, when you don’t know who’s on the other side?”
Black blew out an exasperated sigh. “You’re completely out of your head, you know that? I ought to hex you into next week.” He glanced back at Kingsley. “Not really, though.”
“Sirius Black.” Kingsley forced the words out evenly. Someone was going to answer him.
Black eyed him cautiously. “Yes.” And, as Kingsley opened his mouth with an unformed question, he raised one hand to stop him. “Not here,” he said firmly. “It’s a very long story and I intend to be comfortable while I tell it. Or make Mad-Eye tell it,” he added blandly. Tonks snorted, and the corners of Black’s mouth twitched in a tired way. “Don’t worry, I promise not to kill you before you understand.”
“Sirius,” Lupin warned, and Black snorted.
“All right, all right, bad joke. Here, listen, why don’t we all…just have a cup of tea and get out of the hall before the bloody portrait wakes up again.” He ran a hand through his long hair and smiled rather tensely at Kingsley. “We’ll explain in there.”
“Well somebody had better,” muttered Kingsley as he guardedly followed Sirius Black down the hall with the others.
Worth a Thousand Words by starscribe
Chapter Notes: Thanks to my wonderful Beta!!!