Nice Job, Sirius
Regulus sat around the table in the upstairs storage room of the carousel house. It was technically a bedroom, but they had repurposed it into their de facto junk room for all the stuff that Sirius was too sentimental to get rid of.
Mops, brooms, old bed springs, and various priceless childhood stuffed animals sat around the edges of the room. Sorry Winnie. You were a noble teddy bear.
They had cleared out the very center of the room to put in a round, scuffed table which they squished a few chairs around. The only real light came from a single lightbulb suspended by a string in the very center of the room. A fly buzzed around it, drawn by the light.
James sat across from him. Sirius had taken him out to get a makeover, but his suit and hair were already a little mussed up from earlier.
Regulus didn’t know what to think of James. He was nice, he supposed. He had a sense of humor, and a certain air of confidence that just toed the line of arrogance.
James had had to lie down after helping Regulus polish the carousel horses, why, Regulus had no idea. He was just glad James was looking less like he was about to vomit all over Regulus. He still had a smudge of grease on his chin from where Regulus had pelted a sponge at him. That made Regulus suppress a smile.
On James’s right was Sirius. He had a big grin on his face. The table shook with how hard he was bouncing his leg, trying to contain his excitement. The dope was probably so excited because of the man between him and Regulus–Remus.
His “best friend.”
Remus was possibly the worst kept secret in the history of secrets. One would think that a professional con man would be able to hide his little boyfriend, but alas. Sirius looked at Remus with such adoration that it made even Regulus feel mushy sometimes.
Remus was looking fine since he had last dropped by. His suit was a little more worn, his five o’clock shadow a bit scruffier. He got a new cane topper, a silver wolf curled up, sleeping. He looked more excited about the chocolate bar he was unwrapping than reconnecting with Sirius.
On Regulus’s right, his two (2) friends sat. Tweedle Dum—Barty Crouch Jr. a short, stocky man with dark hair and a hooked nose. And Tweedle Dee—Evan Rosier, a tall, tanned man with blond dreadlocks and a green pinstripe suit.
They had come in early to help Regulus set up the bar (and because they wanted to ride on the carousel). He had brought them in because they could help with intel and add manpower to whatever con Sirius decided to pull on Riddle.
They were very smart, despite their constant bickering.
“Riddle gets most of his money through his numbers racket,” Evan started. He shuffled through a couple pages of notes, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the table. The quiet buzz of conversation died down as everyone tuned in.
All except Remus, who was still unwrapping his chocolate. After a moment, he noticed everyone’s quiet and chimed in through a mouth full of chocolate. “Although he has been putting more money into his Gringotts investments,” Remus added.
Regulus supposed that was the perk of having a banker on their side.
Nice job, Sirius.
Sirius reached over and snapped a square of chocolate off of Remus’s unguarded bar, which earned him a look of indignation and a not-so-subtle kick underneath the table. “Do you think he’s moving out of the rackets?” He asked, not flinching.
Barty shook his head, plucking the notes out of Evan’s hands and rifling through them. “No, he legally owns the stock, it’s all above board. My guess? He’s trying to build a respectable image of himself–”
“--Seems likely. He came out of Godric’s Hollow, the slum up in New York. But for a while he’s been telling people he came out of Knocturn Alley. Hates it when you even mention Godric’s Hollow,” Evan explained, cutting Barty off before he could finish his sentence.
“Anyways, he knows the market. I doubt you could get him on a stock deal,” Barty finished.
Sirius thought for a moment before sighing and turning to James, who gave a start as the attention was pulled to him. Sirius reached into his jacket pocket and slid a photograph to James. Regulus pursed his lips as the photo stared back at him.
It was of a rather disheveled, rather scary looking woman. She had hooded eyes and a long, pencil straight nose. Her hair was tangled into a birds’ nest that was poorly tamed with a ponytail. However, the most disturbing attribute of hers were her bright eyes and wide smile. Sharp, cold, and utterly deranged.
An uncomfortable prickle swept around the table as several people recognized her.
Sirius spoke while James inspected the photo, holding it between two fingers and bringing it close to his face. It looked less like a portrait and more like a mugshot. Regulus could see her face reflected in James’s glasses. Past that, he could see James’s honey brown eyes.
“That woman is named Bellatrix Lestrange. Know her?” Sirius asked. James shook his head, lowering the picture enough to look around the table. He was the only one who didn’t know her. Sirius hummed and tapped the top of the picture.
“She’s the one who killed McGonagall.”
Regulus watched as several emotions flew over James’s face. Shock, anger, grief. It settled on cold determination. Regulus pressed his lips together. James looked…intense.
“She also got the numbers runner you hit. They found him in a gutter with a knife in his eye,” Sirius explained, watching James closely.
Regulus frowned at that. While Bellatrix was known to be brutal, that was rather vicious. Regulus wondered if she had a personal gripe against the numbers runner. Or perhaps she was just bored.
Barty took the photograph from James, waving it around rather casually. “Riddle had seven or eight people croaked on his way up. His pattern’s been to get close to another racket boss, learn their operation, then move in on them,” he said. He plopped the photo back onto the table.
Evan nodded, subtly averting his eyes from the photograph like he was scared Bellatrix might leap out of it and attack him. “Riddle’s vindictive as hell, Sirius. He kills for pride,” he warned.
Regulus watched his brother’s expression. He had a good poker face, but Regulus knew him. He was scared. It was intimidating. Regulus had almost never seen his brother truly frightened. Riddle was the most dangerous person they would ever try to con.
And seeing his brother scared was terrifying.
Remus piped up, looking over at James. “Then it doesn’t add up that he would let James get away from him.”
James shrunk under everyone’s gaze. Sirius gathered his thoughts before nodding. “Right. If you see anything James, you let us know, huh? We’ll fold up the con. You’d be too easy to find. It would blow the con if she blows your brains out.”
James seemed to wince at the mental image of having his brains exploded. Regulus winced at that too. Wonder why.
James was silent for a beat too long before nodding with a half hearted “Got it.”
Regulus wondered if he really did have it.
[He did not have it.]
“Well anyways, I’ll be back in a minute. I need a drink,” Sirius sighed. His chair scraped the floor as he got up, running a hand over his face.
Regulus’s chair skipped the floor and banged into the wall as he shot up before Sirius. Regulus frowned at him, “Oh no you won’t. I’ll check on people and get a round for the table. You’d mess up my bar and probably fistfight a customer.”