Grim Old Place
[10 November, 2004]
"Have you seen L?" Mello asked. Matt looked up from his physics homework and smiled brightly.
"Gee, good morning, Mello!" Matt said cheerfully. "How nice to see you, Mello! Me? I've fine. How about you? Have you had breakfast, Mello?" Mello scoffed. Matt didn't say anything more and stared at Mello with the same fake, bright expression. Mello got the hint.
"Fine." Mello gave in. He slid into the seat beside Mello and pointedly turned to Matt. "Good morning, Matt. Have you had breakfast? I missed mine. What was it?" Matt's hand slid into his school-pack and pulled out an apple. He offered it to Mello without breaking eye contact. "Thanks," Mello grumbled and took the offered fruit. While chocolate cereal was his favorite, the care takers at Wammy's insisted on Mello eating something non-chocolaty for two meals a day. They had even got Matt into it. It was torture. Somedays, Mello wondered why he kept Matt around.
"I haven't seen L," Matt said as he turned back to writing his homework last minute. "He's probably up in his room. I checked the cameras and set up a facial recognition system on the feed a while back. L hasn't been to the main wing since the second."
Oh yes, this was why. Matt was the best.
"You're welcome," Matt said and pushed the homework over to Mello. "Now tell me, is this the right derivative? My answer doesn't match the teacher's key." Mello glanced at the answer and thought it looked right.
"Yeah, they do that sometimes. Screw up the answer key. You aren't the only one here who has literally bugged our teacher's systems for easy answers," Mello said. "Case in point, him." Mello pointed to a thin and tall black haired boy at one of the window seats. "You know Thomas." Matt nodded in understanding. The classmate in question had a propensity for procrastination. That summer, it had gotten so bad that Thomas had copied and printed the answer key from the teachers database and then submitted that printout as his homework. Without writing it out again by hand. That idiot. He ruined cheating for everyone.
Mello thought Thomas could take a lesson on how to get by with the bare minimum from Matt. His best friend was an expert on it.
"We'll see L eventually," Matt continued as he pulled back his homework and signed his name at the top corner with a flourish. "He's probably taking a break after the end of the Kira case and finishing up with his compulsory case work." Mello figured that was a fair point. To maintain the benefits that came along with his status as the World's Best Detective, L and the ICPO had an agreement worked out. L solved a fixed number of cases for them per year, got international diplomatic immunity and a bunch of benefits — all while maintaining his anonymity. L had probably used up a lot of his influence in the Kira case and now, he had to pay the system back.
"I hope he gets free soon," Mello grumbled. "L promised he would come and meet us after the Kira case. He promised."
"And he did," Matt pointed out. "That night, he met us, you got to hug him and there was some talk —"
"Small talk isn't talk talk —"
"It's still talk," Matt said idly. After years of living at Wammy's, Matt was under no delusion of how much L cared. The answer? Not very. "As far as L is concerned, he's fulfilled his promise. If you want more, I don't think it will happen." Matt hoped that L's mysterious boyfriend had more luck getting the guy to keep his promises in more than the letter because from past experience, that was never going to happen.
"It will," Mello insisted. "For me, he will. I got the LABB story. No one else did. So, I'm already exceptional to L. If he's meeting anyone, it'll be me. If he's teaching anyone, it'll be me. If anyone's going to be the successor—"
"It'll be you," Matt finished. Mello beamed. Matt did get it. Matt glanced at Mello from the corner of his eyes and bit back his next words. Instead, he decided to redirect Mello's quest for attention and carefully, casually added, "Say, did you finish that World History presentation? It's twenty percent of our grade. I heard-" Matt shuffled through his homework worksheets as he thought what would distract Mello the best from the topic of L. There was only one person who could do it. Matt sent out a mental apology "-Near said he was thinking about the fall of Soviet Union."
"The fall of the Soviet Union?" Mello asked as non-nonchalantly as possible. From that tone, Matt knew he had Mello hooked. "That isn't World History. It's very recent."
"Near could argue it was more than a decade ago and so can be called relevant world history. It works." Matt shrugged. Near could argue that. Whether he would, was another question entirely. Mello made a frustrated sound. Matt gave Mello an inquiring look. "What did you end up picking? I'm doing one on cryptography during World War two."
"I asked-! And they told me no!" Mello sighed. Then he straightened up, determination in his eyes. "That's it. I'm going to Roger. This is unfair!" Matt gave Mello a shoulder pat.
"Good luck," Matt said and waved. Mello walked out of the room without a glance back. His work done, Matt focused back on the actually important task at hand: homework. He wanted to finish it before Mello came back. After-all, Near was doing a project on Egypt and its pyramids. Mello could ask Roger, and Roger would correct him. Then, Roger would get Mello focused back on the upcoming exams and keep his thoughts off of L. And who knew? Maybe this was the push Mello needed to finally win over Near. A win-win.
Matt was the third successor for a reason. Everything he said gave him plausible deniability. If Mello misunderstood, then that was his fault, not Matt's.
*****
[12 November, 2004]
L looked at the computer screen, going through the records Wammy had found for him. They only went back a decade or so. And if L wanted records from, say, three decades back? Those weren't digitized. L hoped he could find whatever he wanted within whatever was available online because otherwise, he would have to fund a project to speed up uploading all the older records into the new online system. He needed some time for his funds to recover a bit more, after that building in downtown Tokyo.
Time that he did not have.
L did not have time to go through a decade worth of unsolved police reports, a decade worth of newspapers from three different publications and four different countries. L did not have the time it would take to investigate every suspicious incident from them all. L didn't even know what he was looking for. Mysterious deaths? Unexplained disappearances? Inexplicable appearance of gifts? Some paranoid person reporting ghosts in their home or- L scoffed at one of the recent articles- some drunk fool reporting a flying car? And who even was Sirius Black? L had never of him before and this Black fellow had a very extensive man hunt declared for him. The news report never mentioned where he had escaped from, let alone what was his actual crime. Was this some first of April joke that got printed late?
No. This would take too long. It was the correct path, L was sure. But it would take too much. L had already waited for months now. He did not want to wait any more. Thus, he needed more information from Light to narrow down his search.
Maybe he could work on both trust and information at the same time?
L hummed in thought as he went through his recent case files. There must be something suitable there, something that would work as bait, something that would tempt Light, something Light couldn't keep his hands off, something that would mean L could eventually have his hands on Light-
"L?" BB's voice came through the door. "Are you there?" L was very tempted to not respond at all. He had better things to do than to talk to BB. Like track down the local supernatural community and find Light through them. BB didn't feature in any of his short term goals. Maybe a month or three down the line, after he had moved in at another house with Light. He would have time for BB then. But not right now.
Time.
Yes. L could use this. BB came at the right time after-all.
"Yes," L said. He placed his files on the floor next to him and stood up to open the door. "Hello BB. Nice to see you free from terrorizing the kids."
"This is revision week," BB scoffed. There was a distant, nostalgic look in his eyes. "I'm not disturbing those tykes during revision week. Even A, quiet as he was, would have stabbed me if I disturbed him during revision week."
"Ah." L wondered if this was going to be that type of talk. Nostalgia. A demand for an explanation. Accusations thrown, excuses made. Well, if L was going to have to talk about it, right now was fine as well. "Come on in then. No need to talk in the hallway."
"Thanks!" BB walked in. L was in awe because apparently, Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami had managed to instill some manners in BB. Wammy really should write to them to get some feedback. Even Light, his Kira-ness and blunt letters aside, had impeccable manners. It made L want to poke and prod and see what it would take to unravel him, to see the flush of anger on those usually calm features, neatly styled hair disheveled in the heat of the moment, lips curled in a moment of genuine emotion- oh, L knew what that would look like. They did play tennis before. And the cafe outing could be seen as a date, if L twisted it just so. L really wanted another tennis match and another date. Several more.
"What is it, BB?" L closed the door behind him and took back his seat on the floor. BB sat down right across him, looking at L and lost in thought. L took one of the files he had piled next to him and started reading, looking for the one he needed. That, L thought, would give BB the time he needed to gather his thoughts. It was obvious that BB hadn't expected such an easy entry into L's rooms.
"I'm bored," BB declared eventually. It was definitely not what was on BB's mind but L would humor him if that's how he wanted to start. L took the next file in the pile, unopened, and passed it on to BB. BB took it, confused.
"Tell me what you think," L said. BB froze. To date, L had never shared his work with anyone else before. He had had a few email exchanges with A and B before, back when Wammy tried to get L to teach them using case studies of L's former cases. But this time was the first time he had handed over one of his files to someone else. The Kira case being the exception. He had needed the support from the NPA because of Kira's wide scale kills and later, the suspicion that Kira was connected to the local law enforcement. He had needed BB and Misa's help because of their supernatural connections. Yes, the Kira case was an exception in all the ways that mattered. But outside that, he had never asked for anyone's opinion or help in his work.
L offered the temptation, the peace offering and bait, in one manila folder. BB took it, with wide eyes, shaking hands and bewildered awe.
BB flipped through the folder and analyzed the case while L took the next file and wondered if this one would be it. He had gone through three more files before BB finally spoke up.
"Boring," BB declared. But despite that, BB's hands tightened on the file, as if in refusal to hand it back. L did not ask for it back. Instead, he passed on another folder to BB. "Not your usual work," BB said, as calm as he could manage. His eyes remained focused on the pages in front of him, not looking up to see L's reaction. L let him have that.
"I took a long break for the Kira case," L explained. BB clutched the file closer now. "These cases are all boring but still necessary to solve. The Kira case was quality. In these last two months, I need to make up for the quantity of my work."
"Yes," BB said slowly. "But you have 'Deneuve' and 'Eraldo Coil' too. I remember you worked on cases for those two when 'L' was busy with 'Kira'."
"Because." L paused to think how best to explain it. "My aliases might be me, but I still like 'L' best. Otherwise, 'Deneuve' or 'Coil' might win this year. In addition, a minimum workload is necessary to maintain the privileges 'L' has. "
"That makes more sense than it should." BB snorted. He looked at the piles of documents spread around the room. "Do you-" BB took another deep breath and tried to speak up, to get the words out of his mouth "-want help?"
"No," L replied. BB's fingers dug into the file in his hands, crumbling the cardboard. L took the chance and offered another branch. His real goal. "Not for this," L continued. He pointed to one of the other screens in the room. "But you can go through the files on those." BB followed L's gesture.
"Oh," BB said. He sat there, frozen. L had let BB help him. He had worded it as if he was doing a favor to BB, that he didn't want the help- and maybe he really didn't. But L had still accepted the offer. He had never before. This was the first time he had realized that years had passed. Years had passed. Since he had last talked to L. Everything had changed since then. A was dead, B was dead, BB was a husk of the person he once was, L had changed and-
"Why?" BB asked, voice rasped. "Why now? Why not then? Why, L Lawliet? A would still be alive. I wouldn't have left. Everything could have been better! Why?! What changed?! Why now and not then!"
"Because." L didn't even look up from what he reading. He had known this question was coming. Truth was, L himself wasn't sure. Maybe it was because L had been barely eighteen when Wammy and Roger started talking about a 'successor' for L. A replacement- Another 'L', a Backup. Or maybe it was because L was older now, could tolerate someone else in space he considered his. Maybe it was because L simply hadn't cared about A and B until A's death had been brought to his notice.
Or maybe because L wanted to use BB to find Light, and it was L's obsession with Light that was talking here.
A combination of all of the above was the correct answer here. Instead, L discarded the complete truth and picked the partial answer most likely to make BB empathize, "Because you're BB now. Not B. It is clear to everyone that there will never be a second L. L is my name."
BB froze.
Because B wasn't Backup anymore.
BB had only ever looked at the equation from his side, never from L's. A and B had not deserved to be 'L's replacement', but L had also not deserved having replacements. Being an orphan himself, BB could understand that. That fear, that loathing, that bitterness, to wonder why they were not enough, never enough, that if they slipped for a moment they would be replaced-
All of which lead BB to conclude L was partly lying. Perhaps L himself had not realized how much of his statement was the truth because BB knew what L sounded like when he spoke complete bull percentages. This was not it. This was, however, as much of the truth that BB was likely to get from L.
"Is that why you don't talk to the new 'successors'? I was wondering why you threw me at the kids." BB threw the file in his hands back on the pile in disgust. L hummed vaguely but didn't reply. BB had accepted L's half answer as sincere and L wasn't going to make the mistake of adding details to a lie.
BB dropped the topic and made his way to the computer L had pointed out. "What am I even looking for?"
"Good question," L said. "Something odd, like our Shinigami acquaintance. Perhaps mysterious deaths, unexplained disappearances, odd hallucinations."
"More of the supernatural," BB concluded. He made a leap of logic and connected the dots. "You're trying to track down my otouto."
"My partner," L corrected. L knew he was being childish and petty. Light was BB's brother now, yes. But before it all, Light was L's first.
"Your boyfriend is still my otouto," BB countered. L let BB have that win. If it would make BB feel better and work harder, then L would let him have it.
*****
[23 November, 2004]
"B," Near called out, voice low in the silence of the library. BB looked up from the copy of last year's newspaper he was reading. That could wait. Sirius Black, he of the mysterious infamy BB had never heard of before, was less interesting than Near, the teen now in A's place. "We need to talk." BB gestured to the empty seat next to him. Near raised a brow and gestured to the surrounding, full of students studying like their future depended on it. Which, at Wammy's, it did. This place was still as competitive as BB had remembered it to be.
"What is it, littlest of L's successor?" BB asked and pointed to the empty seat again. BB needed to use the library and if he moved from this table, then he was never getting it back. Reluctantly, Near put down his book on the table and sat on the chair. "What brings you here? Why have you skipped class and tracked me down in my cozy corner? Don't you have exams?"
"That's after thirteen days." Near waved it off. "I'm interested in your time after that. You offered us information about the Kira case in exchange for information from our side," Near said. BB nodded. Near took a deep breath, preparing himself for the negotiation. BB let him. The teen was playing at adulthood for the first time. He could give him a chance. "What do you want?"
"A strawberry sundae, with two scoops of vanilla, strawberry syrup, dressed with sprinkles and topped with a single kitkat," BB said and licked his lips. The children at the closest table threw him a glare. Apparently, Roger had instituted the snacks ban during exam times once again and they wanted the ice cream too. "Mnn, yes, that sounds like heaven. Yes, I'll share it with you too." The children, now mollified, went back to their book. Math, BB noticed. No wonder they longed for something sweet.
"Information on the Kira case in exchange for a strawberry sundae?" Near pressed. BB shook his head and laughed as silently as possible.
"Nope." B popped the word. "But a strawberry sundae would get you in my good graces. Who knows, maybe I'll ask L to appoint you as our official ice cream fetcher."
"I don't like sweets." Near intoned. BB shrugged and decided to use what he was calling the 'L tactic' in his mind. BB ignored Near, let him fill-in the silence with his own thoughts and went back to his own newspaper.
After the mysteriously booked campsite this summer, the Sirius Black case from last year was the most likely clue they had for the local supernatural community. Especially because BB knew, and L had noticed it too, Sirius Black had no prior case. Despite killing thirteen people and breaking out from a high security prison, there was no mention of where he had broken out from, no prison with a record for 'Sirius Black', no mention in the decade old police reports about the actual murders themselves, the older newspapers had instead called the incident a 'gas leak explosion' and even more damning, there were no trial transcripts.
Eventually, Near picked up his book and stood up from the table. "Can I get an estimated date for the discussion?" Near asked. BB shrugged. He had the life and times of one Sirius Black, either a mass murderer or wrongly accused in a gas explosion accident, to track down.
"Sometime soon," BB said. Then, he tilted his head in thought and stared at something above Near's head. "Whom should I make the invitation to? You don't read like a Nate anymore."
"For being so rude, you're very considerate," Near said. He paused in thought, brows furrowed. It wasn't a secret, and he wasn't hiding it. But no one had asked and so Near hadn't told anyone. "I'm Near," he said finally. For him, that was enough. And apparently, it was enough for BB as well.
"And I'm Beyond Birthday," B, no BB, replied back. Near nodded and left, his book tucked under one arm. BB noticed it was a book on geometry and architecture. It made sense, given the teen's fascination with building buildings out of cards and blocks. He wondered if that was one topic Near and his newly obtained otouto could bond on. Kira had also had a lot of books on architecture and mechanics in his room.
*****
[4 December, 2004]
It had taken BB a lot of time, effort, and research to find any mention of Sirius Black. There was no 'Sirius' in any of the Black families BB could find in the national registry. There was no record of Sirius Black on any online prison records, nor on any paper trails. There was no birth record for Sirius Black. The local police only said the information on Sirius Black came from their superiors, who then told 'L' that their information came from their superiors. On and on, up and up, the chain went, right up till the prime minister.
Even L needed a valid excuse to make a request from the office of the prime minister.
The fact was that 'Sirius Black' had no solid identity, no paper trail and nothing about his crimes could explain 'L's' interest in 'Sirius Black'. But 'Sirius Black' could also be some sort of operative or refugee whose identity needed to be erased. 'Armed and dangerous' mysterious convict could also translate to 'someone whom we need to find without revealing our interest, keep away and contact us if found'. Thus, without something solid, and without certainty that 'Sirius Black' was their break into the local supernatural community, L could not send a request to the minister.
With that avenue closed, L had Wammy pull a few strings and search for 'Sirius Black' in all known databases. They had found him on record for buying a motorcycle. It was the address on that record, that had brought BB to the space between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London.
BB looked down at the address in the registration copy in his hands. And then at the empty space. He was sure the house was supposed to be here. So why-
Suddenly, a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. BB walked up the worn stone steps, and stopped at the door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.
BB wondered if he really wanted to knock on this magical there-and-not house, whose walls were dark, door shabby, knocker ominous and last known occupant a mass murderer. Just the fact that the house had pulled a disappearing act was enough to confirm that this was the lead they were looking for. Did he really need to go any further?
No, he did not need to.
Yes, he wanted to.
So BB typed a quick message to L, then raised his hand, and knocked on the door. There was a faint sound of many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open. BB looked inside the dark hall, observing with his supernaturally enhanced vision. There were old-fashioned gas lamps along the walls, the walls themselves covered with peeling wallpaper, a threadbare carpet on a long, dark hallway, where an unlit chandelier hung and age-blackened portraits crooked on the walls. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents. BB got the idea that snakes were going to be a running theme in the house.
BB took out his phone, with its terrible camera system, and clicked a picture of the inside. He sent that image to L as well and then stepped inside. A few steps in, and the gas lamps sputtered to life with a hiss. The chandelier and the candelabra shone as well, glittering and lighting up the hall.
Speechless at the sight, BB took a picture of the newly lit up hallway and sent it on. It seemed like his chat with L was soon going to become a journal of BB's journey through a magical house. Magical yes, not supernatural. Looking at this darkly lit place, only the word magic came to BB's mind.
BB walked down the hallway, steps silent and cautious. The house seemed bigger than it looked from the outside. The decorations were dusty and old and expensive antiques that BB bet were real silver. The curtains were velvet, and even the threadbare carpet seemed like it was once a luxurious imported product. It was a shame this place had fallen to time, humidity and moths.
BB stared down at the long hallway and dozens of portraits along the wall. Then he looked up, along the staircase, and saw a row of shrunken heads mounted up on the wall. The heads were all of a creature with a snout-like nose and were decidedly fictional goblin-esque. Something told BB they were all real. As real as Shinigami were. BB looked at the silver antiques around the house again. A faint shiver went down his spine. Something else, something instinctive, told BB that more than a few of them were actual cursed items.
A house full of magical cursed items.
BB took out his phone to take a picture of the shrunken heads and the portraits. There was a silent click of a successful picture but there was also static on the display, as if the phone was glitching. BB wondered whether that was a sign that the house was haunted. Maybe there were ghosts around? BB wasn't afraid of ghosts because after rooming with an actual Death God, ghosts seemed like a downgrade. Or maybe, there were no ghosts. Maybe technology didn't react well with magic.
In either case, BB did not have long before his phone stopped working. He sent this image as well as his observations to L. He placed the phone back in pocket and his hand grabbed the nearby candelabra instead. The house may or may not be haunted and abandoned. However, BB was never going to dismiss the possibility of an attacker again. Who knew whether these folks also had an attack owl.
The stairs creaked softly as BB made his way up to the first floor landing. He made sure to keep low, his back to the wall, eyes scanning for moving shadows, ears open for the softest of sounds. Slowly, the landing came into sight. BB's eyes flickered up and towards the walls. There was another chandelier on the ceiling. The walls had some sort of tree-like tapestry on it. There was no sign or sound of anyone there.
BB reached the first floor without any incidents. The lights flickered on here as well, just like they did on the entryway. And there, moving like a tree in the wind, was a tapestry of the Black Family.
BB took out his phone for another picture, eyes fixed on the living tree. A quick scan told him that the tree went back at least seven generations. It took several pictures, from three different angles, to cover the whole tapestry and send it to L. After that, BB's phone took its last breath under whatever magical influence the house was under.
"Sirius Black," BB whispered under his breath, eyes roaming across the tapestry. He memorized the family tree, the numbers and dates recorded in his mind using one of the several memorizing tricks taught at Wammy's. "Where art thou, Sirius Black?" The Black family named everyone after a star or a constellation. Fancy rich people stuff, which was backed by the furnishing he saw around the house. The cursed artifacts out in the open and the snake motif painted a darker picture. "Sirius Black in 1855, not this one. Another Sirius with Hesper Gamp in 1887. Not this one either. Gosh, these people sure do love the name 'Sirius'. And Gamp? Longbottom? Weasley, Burke, Lestrange, Crabbe? Potter, okay that's a normal one. Yes L, this is exactly what you were looking for. There's no Sirius Black in the 1970s, but, there's a burnt spot next to Regulus Black." BB leaned in closer to try an make out what could be written there.
There, under the blank space where a face should be, was a faint 'Siri- Black' under the soot.
"There you are. Sirius Black. 1969 till current. This tracks."
With the evidence in hand, BB saw no point in staying in this cursed house any longer. The images were sent to L. His phone was dead. The house wasn't going to go anywhere, so if L needed anything more, BB could always come back. In fact, BB wanted to come back. Despite being cursed and possibly haunted, this was a genuine magical house.
Who hadn't heard fantasy stories in their childhood? Who hadn't dreamt of magic and mystery? Who wouldn't grasp this chance with both hands when offered?
Wendy had leapt right after Peter Pan outside that window. Light Yagami had ran away from home. If BB had been given the same option, he would have made that choice as well.
He wouldn't have faked his death. That was a dick move from Light. BB was going to have words with his new younger brother about needlessly stressing out his family. Their family. BB was family with Kira. Brothers. BB wanted no part of this. Could he have had the parents without the siblings attached?
"Did you think the same, Sirius Black?" BB whispered as he remembered the name of the convict burnt off the family tapestry. Sirius wasn't the only one given that treatment. There were several other names burnt off over the past century. "Was your name burnt off because you were a criminal? Or was it because of a family feud? "
"The intruder is friend of blood traitor master?" A voice asked from stairway. BB looked back. There, peeking over the landing, above the last steps of the staircase, was a goblin-esque creature. It looked disturbingly like those heads mounted on the plaques along the hall below. The name above it read 'Kreacher'. There was no lifespan. This, BB concluded, was a creature of magic.
"Who?" BB asked and narrowed his eyes as if trying to peer into the darkness. Kreacher narrowed its eyes in hostility. BB wondered whether the creature was hostile towards him as an intruder or as an assumed friend of Sirius Black. Chances were both. But would this creature hate an intruder more than he would hate his so-called 'blood traitor master'? Only one way to find out.
"Oh it's you," BB said. His eyes widened in recognition. "No. I'm here to arrest him," BB said. "I'm here on behalf of an independent client who wants to catch Sirius Black for his own reasons." BB shook his head in mock disappointment. "He's a blood traitor, right?" The creature seemed to take a moment to think about it. BB took that time to step closer. Eventually, the creature shook its head.
"No. Get out. This is house of the Most Ancient and Noble Black. No intruders," Kreacher said. It raised its hands in the gesture of a snap. BB wondered if that was supposed to be a threat. BB didn't wait to find out. He was close enough to be faster than the elf.
And so BB look a step forward, arm swinging and struck Kreacher with the candelabra. The creature went tumbling down the stairs, unconscious and bleeding from its head.
"Intruders! In the house of Black! Begone from the house of my fathers, filthy thieves! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone!"
BB flinched. There was someone below. Someone down the stairs. He had missed someone in the house. The exit was down there. His hand went to his pocket, to the phone that lay dead inside. He couldn't call L. He wouldn't be able to call anyone from Wammy's if he was taken to some sort of magical police. He had only one option.
BB eyed the candelabra and the goblin below. He had already hit one magical being. He could hit one more on his way down.
"Defiler of the house of my ancestors! Thief, invader, intruder! How dare you-!"
BB noted that the woman kept shouting from a corner he distinctly remembered was nothing but wall and a portrait. A portrait of an old woman in a black hat. And, turning the corner at the bottom of the staircase, candelabra in hand, it was a portrait that could also scream. Her eyes were wide, skin taught and yellow over her bones. BB took a cautious step back as the woman brandished clawed hands as though trying to tear his face off. Except, the woman could not come out of the portrait.
There was no threat here, except the loud noise.
Cursed portraits in a cursed house with cursed artifacts. The designers really kept the house on theme. BB was delighted.
He ignored the screams and screeches of the woman, ignored the other portraits waking up as well. First, he tried to take the painting off the wall. He failed. A look behind the frame revealed that the portrait was connected to the wall behind it by an adhesive. The woman started a new litany of insults- which revealed to BB that the woman was not simply paint on a canvas. She had some sort of sentience. Next, BB pulled off the curtains from the wall and tried to cover the portrait to muffle it. To his immense surprise and relief, it actually worked. With the portrait of the old woman silent, the rest of the portraits fell silent as well.
BB looked from the silent portraits to the unconscious creature lying at the bottom of the stairs. As he stripped some more curtains from the windows and tied up Kreacher, making sure it couldn't move its fingers, BB made a new plan.
First, he was going to go out and call L from the nearest pay phone. Then, he was going to closest supply store and buy paint stripper. BB wondered if one could threaten sentient portraits for information. It was a good day to find out.
*****
[4 December, 2004]
The closest payphone was also at the closest supply store. BB checked out the cans of paint stripper and cloistered himself at the counter near the door to call Wammy's.
"Maria!" BB crooned as the older woman who was in charge of public relations at Wammy's picked up. "Aunt Maria, my savior, it's B. Listen, can you pass the call onto our resident great detective? My phone is down for the count."
"B," Maria's voice at the other end sounded exasperated. "What mischief are you up to this time? I'll patch you through. Wait a minute, dear." BB suddenly felt nostalgic. This was the same voice that bailed them out whenever he and A had gotten into something they shouldn't have. Back then, A had always pushed B to call home. He couldn't bear to call in and tell the teachers he had given in to one of B's whims again, that he had gone along with B and gotten himself into trouble as well. A just couldn't bear to disappoint expectations.
And that was why A had-
"BB?" L's voice came through the other end. BB closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And then another. And continued breathing, heart beating in his chest and pulse loud in his ears. Coming to Wammy's was bad for his health. BB didn't want to be here, not without A, not with L so close and so different and everything A had wanted but years too late, much too late. What did it matter? Why was B here? There was nothing left for him here, nowhere that he belonged- "BB." L's voice, firm and steady, broke through the loud voices in his head. "It's been one fifty seconds. Are you well? Did something happen? Do you need to be picked up?"
"My phone stopped working because of magic network interference," BB proclaimed. L went silent on the other end. The store clerk gave BB a suspicious look. "I don't know what happened, man." BB looked at the clerk and shrugged. "One minute it was working, the next it went all static-y and poof! Gone dark! I need better payment, Lawli! Pay me more so I can buy better phones!" That worked, as the clerk gave him a sympathetic look. On the other end of the call, L gave a loud sigh.
"Buy a new one and transfer your sim to it," L said. "You have a card, BB. Use it."
"The company card?" BB asked. The clerk gave him a thumbs up and BB gave him a wide, victorious grin. "Are you sure I can use it? The limit has been raised?"
"Yes," L said. "I saw the pictures you sent. Good work, BB. The family tree was the most informative. Lucius Malfoy is on the board of a lot of influential companies, and his wife is indeed listed as Narcissa Malfoy. That is one more person we can pressure to know more about the supernatural-" "Magic!" BB insisted. "- magical world," L corrected. "But rather than a capitalist businessman, it would be better to pressure the prime minister using Sirius Black's lack of trial, and thus technical innocence."
BB wanted to point out that, if they were going to talk in technical terms, then L himself was a hedonistic and capitalistic businessman. But BB let L have his moment and he continued talking.
"There were a lot of names under the burnt out spots," BB spoke. "I remember one of them. The lawyer. Marius. We came across him in our search for the dog star." Sirius, BB implied. L gave a low hum of understanding. "There are a few other names we can look into as well. But listen, the whole place is haunted as hell. Its so old, it might also be cursed. Cursed antiques lying all around."
"Is that so?" L asked, his voice thoughtful. "Do you want to return or continue? If the place is cursed, then I don't want to risk any of our human agents going in there."
"Yeah, I can do it," BB confirmed. He rattled the can of paint remover he had in hand. "I even have supplies. You continue on with the lawyer and government permit thing. I have some paints to threaten off of canvas."
"... 'Paint to threaten off canvas'?" L repeated. A brief pause as L realized what B was saying. "That place has intelligent portraits? Fascinating."
"I know!" BB said. "There's so much we can learn. So much to explore! So much to do, so little time. I suspect there's a library somewhere back there. Rich people house. They all have a pretentious library somewhere in a corner."
"Buy a new phone," L said. BB agreed. It was L's money he was spending, so he wasn't going to hold back. "Also a recorder. Get a few more pictures of the place and record whatever conversations you have. This is excellent, BB. I-" L paused. BB waits for L to speak. There was faint sense of anticipation. And then L said, "Thank you, B."
*****
[4 December, 2004]
BB's first act on entering the grim old house again was to check if Kreacher was awake. He was not. And thus, BB's second act was to check if Kreacher's arms were still tied and fingers unable to form a snap. That was still the case. So BB's third act was to drag a chair from the dining table and dust it off.
Standing in front of the hallway of portraits, BB considered his fourth act: to talk to a portrait. The old woman's screaming portrait was out. It seemed decidedly uncooperative and shrill. That left him with several sleeping portraits to choose from. BB goes through his mental list of the Black family tree.
The plaque at the bottom of the old woman's portrait said she was Walburga Black. Walburga Black was noted to have died in 1995. Thus, BB could conclude that portraits could only be made of dead people. For obvious reasons, BB wasn't going to talk to Walburga. Which other member of the family had just died recently? Pollux Black, who died in 2000. Then there were Cassiopeia, Cygnus and Lucretia, who all died in 2002.
BB walked down the corridor, reading the names on all the portraits. He did end up finding Pollux and Cygnus. Unfortunately, both of them devolved into insults, same as Walburga. Unlike Walburga, BB wasted no time in introducing these gentlemen-on-canvas to the wonders of isopropyl alcohol. Cygnus Black was very cooperative after BB ended up 'erasing' Pollux.
"Magic is real," BB repeated, in wide eyed wonder. The recorder was turned on at the side, saving each and every word from the sentient portrait. "There is a whole Wizarding World out there. Upon the signature of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689, wizards went into hiding, histories were revised and memories erased- for centuries, entire governments have been working to hide magic from muggles. Why muggles?"
"For good reason, young thief," Cygnus said. "The Ministry teaches that no witches died in the Witch Hunts. Flame freeze charm, they say. Balderdash! What of the Salem Witch Trials?! What of the children, who bear no wand till age eleven and have no control of their magic till then? What of our family members, who had married into muggle noble families for alliances? The Ministry may forget and the Mudbloods may deny, but we pure of blood remember! A couple of centuries are not enough to forget and forgive how our kind were hunted through our lands like prey."
"That's fair," BB agreed. "But why muggles? Why that term?"
"That's what the British Wizengamot decided on." Cygnus shrugged. "Other countries have different terms. The MACUSA, for example, calls muggles 'no-maj'. No magic. Rather on the nose, eh? Enough about that. Young man, I'm rather curious about you. What sort of creature are you?" BB gave the portrait a considering look.
"So you discriminate against non-humans too," BB concluded. That raised some interesting questions regarding the resident house elf. BB had broken Kreacher's fingers and left him in a cupboard in the kitchen. Even if the house elf couldn't directly attack others, BB had felt safer if the creature was left without his means to do magic. Cygnus Black gave BB a haughty sneer. BB raised the can of isopropyl alcohol and then pointed to another can of denatured alcohol sitting next to his chair. "This creature can strip your skin off your canvas. Remember that." Cygnus Black scowled.
BB frowned and thought back on everything he had learnt in the past hour. Once properly motivated, Cygnus was a veritable fount of information. He spoke at length about the history of magic, the importance of the Great and Noble House of Black, the superiority of purebloods, and the British Ministry of Magic. This was all too much information. There were probably more details that Cygnus had held back on. BB needed more time to gain more information and a second opinion. L couldn't come into Grimmauld place and BB couldn't take Cygnus with him. Or could he?
BB stood up and checked the back of Cygnus Black's portrait. Unlike Walburga, Cygnus could be taken right off the wall.
Right. Screw the recorder. Screw the list of questions L had sent him.
BB ignored Cygnus's protests and proceeded to take down the portrait. He hoped L liked their new office decoration. If not, there was a whole hallway full of portraits L could pick another from. Paint stripper could make any portrait talk.