Alphard's
The cab drive from the train station to the village takes nearly an hour. It’s dark, and Sirius can hardly see outside; the Christmas lights in the houses along the narrow streets are the only thing fighting the night. He doesn’t know much about the place he’s going, only that it’s small and that it’s where his uncle Alphard lived for the last thirty years of his life. Sirius hasn’t seen him for what must be fifteen years now.
Inheriting the pub had come as a surprise. When he was younger, he’d once asked his mother what Alphard did for a living. She had told him the truth, but they didn’t speak about him a lot. Alphard had never married, and although Sirius had always liked him, they hadn’t kept in contact. Hence, he had not expected to be included in the will in any way. Yet here he is now.
It was his father’s idea, sending him to the village to see first-hand what he’s up against. ‘My beloved pub,’ his uncle called the place in his will.
Sirius has never visited the village before, and so he truly has no idea what’s waiting for him there. It might very well be a rickety house somewhere in the outskirts, or a small, dowdy pub below an even smaller, even dowdier inn. All he knows is that he’s supposed to manage the place for a month and, during his stay, make it as presentable as possible. Then it will be sold forward, and he won’t have to come back ever again.
There’s only one small problem – he does not know how to manage a pub.
‘To Sirius, for safekeeping.’
He’s almost angry at Alphard. They didn’t speak for nearly two decades – his uncle had only known him as a child. There’s no way he could possibly have thought that Sirius is the best person to leave his ‘beloved pub’ with. But then again, maybe he simply didn’t have anyone else to write into his will. Based on the document, the pub had been the only thing he owned, and Sirius the only person he wanted to include in it.
The cab pulls up in front of his guesthouse, where he’s supposed to live for his entire stay. At first glance, it looks homely and neat. There are Christmas trees outside, and garlands and lights have been put up to frame the porch and the front door. Behind each window, he can see a candelabrum with fake candles flickering, trying to mimic real ones.
He opens the door and steps out into the cold evening, shivering.
It’s snowy, unlike in London. The cab driver fetches his suitcase from the trunk and hands it to him before waving goodbye and slipping back inside the vehicle. Sirius takes his carryings and starts making slow progress towards the front door, careful not to slip on the icy pavement.
The street he’s on is full of beautiful wooden and brick houses, each one adorned with Christmas lights and other festive décor. Down the road, he can see people step out of shops, cladded in their winter hats and chunky scarves, hands in their pockets or holding those of their loved ones. All around him, it smells of Christmas.
An older woman greets him at the door when he finally manages to get up the stairs and knock. She has a warm smile on her face as she welcomes him in, calling behind her, “James! Come help our guest with his luggage.” Then she shakes his hand. “You must be Mr Black. Welcome to The Potters Guesthouse.”
Sirius thanks her and then looks up as a young man, similar to his age, appears in the doorway. He smiles at Sirius and points at his bags. “Right, these ones?” he confirms.
“Yes, exactly,” the woman nods. “I’ll give Mr Black his keys and then you can show him to his room, dear.” The man, James, nods and picks up Sirius’s suitcase and travel bag. “My name’s Euphemia,” she continues as she leads Sirius out of the hallway and into another space, which seems to be functioning as the reception room.
“Uh—Sirius,” he says, not wanting to seem arrogant. “Please.”
She smiles and goes behind the desk to open a drawer and pull out an envelope. “You’ll be on the second floor, Sirius. There are towels in your room, and any time you need new ones, just pop in here and I’ll give you some. Breakfast’s from seven to nine, just down that corridor and to the left. If there’s anything wrong or if you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to approach me or James. My husband, Monty, is also around usually, but today he’s out with his friends at the pub down the street.” She hands him the envelope. “It’s a gem of a place, you should check it out while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Sirius says, accepting the envelope. James inclines his head in the direction of the staircase, and so he follows. “Good night, Mrs—Euphemia.”
Euphemia smiles. “Good night, Sirius.”
They ascend the stairs, James carrying both of his heavy bags. Sirius jumps over a step, saying, “I can take the other one, they’re pretty full...”
“It’s okay,” James says over his shoulder. “So... Sirius.”
“Sirius Black,” Sirius confirms as they finally make it to the landing at the top of the stairs. James nods and reaches out his hand. It takes a second for Sirius to realise he’s waiting for the key. “Oh, uh, sorry...” Quickly, he tears open the envelope and hands the set of keys to James, fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process.
“James Potter,” he says. He holds up one of the two keys. “This one’s for your room. The smaller one’s for the front door.” He pushes the key into the lock on the first door to their left. “Right, this is your room here. Everything should be in there already, but we’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He lifts the luggage inside the room and then gives the keys back to Sirius. “Enjoy your stay.”
He disappears down the stairs again. Sirius looks around himself and then proceeds into his room, stepping over his bags and flicking the light on. It looks and smells clean; the bed is immaculately made, there isn’t a speck of dust on the dresser, and the windows have clearly been washed that same day. The curtains have not been drawn, and he can see the bustling street below. It makes him feel nostalgic about something he has never even experienced.
He goes to bed shortly, too tired to go out and explore the town anymore. Tomorrow, he will have to start what he has come here to do. He will visit the pub, speak to the employees, and see what needs to be done. He will tie up all the strings Alphard has left loose. His father has given him a deadline of thirty days – just in time for him to return home for Christmas. That means he has to endure in this small village for a whole month and withstand all the festive traditions thrown his way.
He’s not sure how he’s going to do it.
***
He wakes up early and showers, gets dressed, and then heads downstairs for breakfast. Stepping out of his room and into the corridor, he’s hit by the comforting scent of cinnamon and oranges wafting from the kitchen. He descends the stairs and pads his way into the room where Euphemia, James, and a strange man are all hustling around. The kitchen island is laden with pots and plates of all sizes, each of them bearing different breakfast foods: eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, vegetables, pastries, yoghurt...
“Morning, Sirius,” Euphemia greets him warmly. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea, maybe?”
“Morning,” Sirius replies. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Hi, there. I’m Fleamont,” the man who Sirius doesn’t recognise says, reaching his hand out and then quickly pulling it back to wipe the flour on his trousers. “Oh, excuse me...”
“It’s alright. I’m Sirius.”
Euphemia hands him a huge mug of coffee. “And did you sleep alright, dear?”
“Yes, thank you,” he nods.
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Fleamont says. “Please, help yourself to breakfast. James here baked those pastries just this morning, they’re worth giving a try.”
“Oh... thank you.”
Fleamont smiles, somewhat amused. “You’re welcome. So, Sirius, what brings you into town? You’re staying until Christmas, no?”
He nods. “Yes, until the twenty-third. I’m here for work—or, well, personal business, but... work.”
“Hm, interesting. And what is it you do?”
“I work for my father’s company, finance stuff… but that’s not why I’m here. I actually had family here – my uncle Alphard, he died recently, and—”
“Oh, deary me,” Euphemia says, realisation dawning on her face. “Yes, of course. Sirius Black. You look the part, too.”
“You—you knew him?”
“Everyone in this village knew him. Fleamont especially, they used to be best friends. Alphard was such a precious soul...”
“Oh, I... I’m sorry for your loss.”
Fleamont pats him on the shoulder. “I suppose I should be saying the same to you.”
“We weren’t very close,” Sirius admits. “He and the rest of my family didn’t really get along.”
“He owned a pub down the street, you know? A very popular place, everyone loves going there... You’re always welcomed at Alphard’s, albeit now it’s a little empty without him there.”
“Yes, I... I know.” Sirius swallows. He simply doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he’s there for one reason and one reason only: to sell that pub they all seem to love so much.
“Well, you should pop in while you’re here,” Euphemia says, kindly. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“Right... and who’s been in charge since Alphard’s death?”
She looks slightly uncomfortable. “Well, legally, we’re not exactly sure. But the employees at the pub have kept it going, to respect his work. You should ask for Poppy Pomfrey if you want to know more about your uncle.”
“Oh. Is she—?”
“No, dear. Just a friend – and a good one at that.”
Sirius eats his breakfast quickly and then leaves the guesthouse, stepping out into the brisk winter morning. He takes to the direction Euphemia advised him and finds the place not ten minutes later. Alphard’s, says the golden letters on the front of the building. It’s red brick with an ornate door and beautiful windows facing the street. It looks like time has done its job, too, but the place doesn’t scream shabby like he expected. It looks homely.
He enters after a moment’s hesitation, a bell chiming overhead as he pushes the door open. There’s no one around yet, it being eight in the morning, and so he takes his time inspecting the space. The tables and chairs are all dark wood, and there are a few armchairs and sofas in the corners. A large chandelier lights up the place, the Christmas lights on the windows and the counter bringing a certain kind of cosiness. Here, too, it’s clear that the pub is old. Most of the surfaces have scratches on them, and although it smells like cleaning products in the early hour, some stains are beyond rescue.
There are pictures on the walls, of the pub’s front, of masses of people, of Alphard with his friends. Sirius recognises him immediately – it’s true, he has that Black family look that Euphemia mentioned.
“I’m sorry, we don’t open until nine.”
Sirius jumps around. Someone has appeared behind the bar counter – a man probably in his late twenties, with light brown hair and an apron tied around his waist. He has a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder and an expectant look on his face.
“Pardon me,” Sirius says, walking closer. “The door was open, and I thought...”
“Well, since you’re already here,” the man shrugs, hovering his hand over empty pints. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing,” Sirius hurries to explain. “Or, I was... I was looking for Poppy Pomfrey.”
The man nods slowly and then goes to the doorway behind him to call out, “Poppy! There’s someone here for you!”
Sirius smiles awkwardly. “Thank you.”
His companion eyes him from head to toes, presumably wondering why he’s cladded in a full suit. Sirius feels a bit silly now, but then, he’s there as much on his father’s business as his own. It can’t hurt, looking professional.
An older woman emerges in the doorway, also wearing a similar apron. She raises her brows. “Why, hello, there. How can I help you?”
“Morning, Ms Pomfrey,” Sirius says, extending his arm. She shakes his hand, a curious look on her face. “My name’s Sirius Black, and I’m—”
“Oh, Sirius Black, you say? And what are you looking for, dear?”
“Well, Alphard, he’s my—he was my uncle.”
Her expression changes. “Ah, I see. So, now you’re here to see what his life looked like.”
“Well, not exactly, but...”
“I would be glad to speak to you about him. Alphard and I, we go way back, you see. He was a very kind person, your uncle. Not a bad bone in his body. Should we go to the back, I have some pictures that I can show you—?”
“He left the pub to me.”
Poppy’s eyes widen, and she clamps her mouth shut. The young man’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Alphard left the pub to you?” he asks incredulously. “I’ve never even seen you before.”
“No, well, I didn’t really visit, so... it’s actually been some years since I last saw him.”
“In my twelve years of working here,” says Poppy, “I have never heard Alphard mention his family, not once. He truly left his only possession to you?”
“Yes, I suppose we’ve drifted apart over the years.”
“But you knew he ran this place?”
“Uh… people in my family knew he ran this place. I’d heard about it, too.”
The man frowns. “Why leave it to you, then? If he wasn’t even sure you knew?”
“Do you have experience in running a pub?” Poppy inquires.
“No,” Sirius says, getting annoyed by all their questioning. He has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to even do, and now he’s getting pestered by people who clearly think they know more than him. “No, I don’t, and I’m not here to take over.”
“Oh,” the other man says. “Then why are you here?”
Sirius squares his shoulders. “I’m here on behalf of my father to... to discuss matters concerning the pub’s future.”
“On behalf of your father?” Poppy repeats. “But wasn’t the place left to you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“What do you mean, ‘the pub’s future’?” the man asks.
Sirius looks at him, attempting to remain professional despite his irritation. “Pardon me, I don’t think I caught your name,” he says stonily.
“It’s Remus. Remus Lupin.”
Sirius steps forth to shake his hand over the counter. “It’s nice to meet you, Remus. And as for the future of the pub...”
“She should do it,” he says. “If you’re not going to take over, then it should at least be someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Well, I—”
“Alphard did things his own way,” Poppy puts in, proudly. “And I learned a thing or two, watching him.”
“That’s lovely, yes,” Sirius presses on, “but no one in this room is going to take his place.”
“Well, obviously not,” she nods. “No one could ever replace him, bless his soul...”
“No. I don’t think you understand what I’m implying.”
Remus leans both his hands on the counter and looks at him expectantly. “Why don’t you enlighten us, then?”
Sirius clears his throat, pulling the pile of papers that his father gave him out of his briefcase. He places it on the counter and turns it so that the others can see the cover. “Alphard’s pub is now under my name,” he explains, calmly, “and, as we’ve already established, I’ve no knowledge on how to run a place like this. Alphard’s has gained the interest of a bigger corporation, which could possibly affiliate the pub into itself. That means that Alphard’s would become—”
“A part of a chain,” Remus finishes for him, monotonously. He shakes his head, slowly. “Alphard never wanted that. He could’ve sold the whole place three years ago, but he chose not to take up the offer. He wanted to keep it local, close to the people of the village. Not make it some bloody tourist attraction.”
Sirius nods, slowly. “Right. Well, now the pub’s in my name, and that means that changes will occur. The company’s promised to pay more than really makes sense for the place, and since Alphard is no longer here to look after it, we think it’s a ripe time to sell.”
Remus looks beyond incredulous, but it’s nothing compared to the look on Poppy’s face. “You want to erase three decades of important local culture? For the sake of turning this place into a chain pub?”
“Well, it would become more of a restaurant than a—”
“Oh, even better! My lord, what has the world turned into...”
Remus reaches out to touch her shoulder, turning simultaneously to address Sirius, “So, that’s it? You walk in here and tell us it’s all done? What happens to the people who work here?”
Sirius nods quickly, glad he has brought the matter up. “You see, the company that wants to buy Alphard’s hasn’t really... confirmed they want to buy it, yet. I didn’t just come here to tell you the news – I came to make sure the place is in good condition for when the potential buyers come have a look.”
Remus looks as though he might reach over the counter any second now and strangle him to death. “And when are the buyers coming?” he grits.
“On the 22nd of December.”
“That’s a month away.”
“Yes,” Sirius agrees, eyeing the space around them. “I think there’s a lot of work to do here.”
“And what will happen to us?”
He adapts a professionally neutral smile. “That will be for the new owners to decide.”
Remus huffs, turning away and running a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. “Fucking hell...” he murmurs.
Poppy looks at him, sadly, and then asks, “And what will happen next?”
Sirius flips the first page and points to a segment. “Here’s a copy of the will, signed by Alphard. And here...” He flicks through a few more sheets of paper. “Right, here. As I’m now responsible for taking care of the business side of things, too, I will firstly need to see Alphard’s records from over the years. Just to get a hang of what he’s done here. And then...” He looks around the pub again. If he wants to make it presentable for the buyers, some things absolutely need to be changed.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Remus says, rubbing his fingers against his temples as if he’s getting a headache just from looking at Sirius.
“Remus, be kind now...” Poppy says, though she looks just as concerned.
“How long have you been working here, Remus?”
“Almost eight years now.”
Sirius nods. “So, you both know what you’re doing. I don’t see any reason as to why you wouldn’t be able to keep your jobs, even when—if we sell the place.”
Remus stares at him, unimpressed. “You just said that it’s up to them.” Sirius opens his mouth to respond, but he continues, “And it’s a local business – that’s how it’s supposed to be. A family business.” He says the last part pointedly, and Sirius knows what he’s implying. Although Alphard’s business has never included any of his real family, he found himself a new one in this small village. Sirius isn’t a part of that family, and he never will be. He only knew Alphard because they shared blood.
There’s an awkward sort of silence, which Sirius breaks by clearing his throat. “Right... Could you please show me to Alphard’s office? I’d like to see all his documents, the paperwork, bills...”
“Follow me,” Poppy says, smiling tightly. “Remus, dear, could you please get the till ready?”
Remus grunts in response and continues working, while Poppy leads Sirius behind the counter and through the doorway into a small corridor. There, they pass the kitchen, a storage room, and finally, arrive at the door to Alphard’s office. She opens the door for him. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve gone through some of his stuff... You see, we didn’t know what the destiny of the pub would be after his death, and it all happened so recently... We were just waiting for someone to come and tell us what was going on. And now you have.”
Sirius shakes his head, dismissively. “It’s alright, Ms—”
“Poppy. Just Poppy, please.”
He nods. “Poppy. Do you know how he organised the financial side? Did he take care of the bills himself?”
“I sometimes helped him, but mostly, he did it all himself. Here, this is where he kept all the most important documents and papers...” She pulls out a file brimming with paper and hands it to him. “Mind you, the computer is a bit ancient...”
“I brought my laptop, so it’s alright. Well, I’ll be here if you need anything.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it, almost as if in shock. “I...”
“You’ll be fine, taking care of the pub today? I probably need a day or two to sort this all out...”
Poppy straightens her back, dignified. “Yes, of course,” she says, sounding mildly offended. “I’ve been doing this for over a decade...” With that, she turns around and heads for the door again. Sirius swears he can hear her mutter, “You’ll be fine... I was bloody fine before you got here!”
He raises his brows and waits for the door to click shut before digging his laptop out of his briefcase and sitting down at the desk. It’s cluttered with stationery items and piles of papers, and the computer does truly look like it doesn't belong to the current century. He opens his laptop and picks up the file Poppy gave him again, flicking through the first few pages on top. All the accounting has been done by hand, it seems. He sighs and sets it aside. It’s going to be a long day.