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"Barty, Barty, Barty, old buddy, old chum!" Sirius exclaimed with fake joviality, as he casually broke into his office, ignoring his secretaries' loud protests.

Honestly, the woman works for Barty Crouch Sr, she should be thankful Sirius was here to inject some sort of excitement - in her, no doubt dull and mindless, parchment work filled life.

The office suited the old man, even if it wasn't as decorated as his old DMLE office had been, not that Sirius had been there often during his brief stint as an Auror, (For some reason Barty Crouch hadn't called on Sirius for bodyguard duty, ever, back in the day.) It was very drab, very gray. Plenty of old people stuffy stuff around, things to make one look important that had no real use - mixed with things with real use that no one important would ever use. Mostly because it was too practical and not traditional enough, which really made one wonder why they bothered to display it in their office. People really loved their window dressing in the Ministry and the Ancient families, especially things they'd never actually touch or understand, but it was expensive so they had to have it. Not that the two, (Ministry and the Noble families) were really that far apart. You couldn't shoot off a tickling spell without hitting someone from an ancient family in the Ministry, even if it's only that second cousin stuck in the records department where he wouldn't hump the goats anymore.

Presumably. There is a spell for turning an inanimate object to a goat after all. And the records department is pretty deep and dark, with few visitors…

The fact so many Ancient and Noble families had so many relatives at the Ministry was an achievement in itself really, with how many families had died out over the centuries. Sirius was pretty sure he could call whoever he next met while walking down the halls, cousin, and have at least a thirty-forty percent chance it would be right.

His marriage prospects, were he to go look for them, likely held at least a third of the prospects that were way too closely related to him. The magical world was basically Alabama, with better dental care and people wearing robes instead of a tank top.

Barty Crouch Sr, was, perhaps, Sirius thought, displeased at his presence, it was hard for him to tell, because Barty's face always looked like that anyway. The severe looking man sat ramrod straight behind his desk, robes perfectly pressed, lips turned downwards on his wrinkled grayish face, underneath his (likely measured everyday) perfect Hitler mustache. "Mister Black, I don't believe you have an appointment." Barty said icily, his hard eyes actually showing some honest to Merlin emotion, sure it was hatred, but Sirius just lost twenty galleons because of that, turned out Barty was human after all. Drats.

He should know better than to bet Cissy, really. But he'd been sure Barty didn't have feelings. Considering what he'd done to his son, it really wasn't a risky bet, he'd thought. Maybe hatred was his go to, then?

Sirius grinned irreverently as he snapped his fingers in the air mockingly, before pointing at the grouchy old man, voice chiding as he corrected him. "Ah, ah, one must always use the proper titles when addressing another wizard of higher stature, correct?" Not that Sirius would follow such bull in his meetings, that's not why he was here either, but it would amuse him to make Barty do so.

Because now that he'd pointed it out, the man was probably incapable of not following proper customs.

Crouch was from a notable family himself, but notably not as storied and ancient as the Black's.

Traditions, what was it but a set of silly rules that allowed someone unscrupulous that disregarded them - to know exactly how to weave a web around those hidebound fools. Sirius could appreciate some traditions, he was a Black after all. But he'd never allow them to set his behavior or actions against necessity or the greater good.

Sirius continued to grin as Barty Crouch, ground his teeth together, his pedantic worldview warring with his intense dislike of Sirius himself no doubt. Even if Sirius being found innocent hadn't been another kick to the nuts of Barty's career - he'd likely hate Sirius anyway, just based on his ability to actually enjoy life.

Or the way he made a mockery out of him, his way of life and everything he did and stood for. That could play a part, too. And the constant mocking. That probably had an effect. Hitting on his wife that one time back when he was a new Auror… Probably added to it.

To be fair, Barty was really easy to wind up.

"What is the purpose of your… " The man grimaced even more severely for a moment, "Visit… Lord Black." Barty finished, his distaste obvious to Sirius. Even if his face remained mostly impassive and his posture was corpse stiff and unmoving.

James had once theorized the man was an inferi that just groomed himself well enough to pass as a human. Lily had smacked him for it, but hadn't been able to hide her giggles.

Sirius had once gotten a two day suspension for spelling that theory onto every bathroom wall in the DMLE. It probably would have been longer, but graffiti as a rule, had a two day suspension as the highest available punishment (for purebloods). And Barty did follow the rules as a core tenet of his existence.

Except the no unforgivables one or the no breaking people out of jail one, apparently those rules are more optional?

Sirius flopped into a chair in front of Barty's desk, his grin widening as Barty's glare intensified in chilliness, brrr. "Barty, I can call you, Barty, right?" Sirius said, rushing right past the opening of the tosser's mouth, where he was no doubt rushing to say something ridiculous like, certainly not, or, you may address me as Director Crouch. Yeah right, "I need a favor, mate."

Look at that, his eloquence had rendered the man speechless, with his literal jaw dropped and everything, he even had an eye twitch. "Are you having a stroke? Is your nurse around? You old folks got one of those, right? To help you get around, and such?" Sirius blithely continued to piss the man off. In some ways, it's how Barty Crouch Sr expected him to act, so he was almost obliged to entertain himself thusly, and in others, it was much easier to deal with the man when he was knocked straight out of his comfort zone.

Considering that the only times in his life that Barty Crouch Sr would ever get a hard on about something - was for the rules, and that he probably measured said hard ons to make sure they were a lawfully and societally approved erection to boot - It would be of no benefit to Sirius to hold a calm and logical discussion based only on facts. He needed to piss Barty off, so he'd use something else other than ice cold logic for once.

Just as he saw fury building up in Crouch's face, Sirius interrupted again, the director of International Cooperation didn't even seem to notice that his nails dug into his desk as Sirius talked over his attempt to speak, "You see, mate, we really are just the same you and I." Sirius said - with a butter won't melt in my mouth kind of smile, "We're forces for stability and order, people that understand that the Ministry must be a stable and unwavering institution, or we lose the ability to properly guide the British people."

Sirius propensity for bullshit truly was his number two most useful attribute, number one being his suave charm and good looks, of course.

Sirius finally let silence reign long enough for Crouch to get a word in, and the man immediately did so, face reddening, voice harsh, "Stability? Lord Black, I fail to see how you are an advocate of that! Order? Don't make me laugh!"

A funny thing to say, Sirius almost thought the man had actually told a joke. Because everyone knew Barty didn't laugh.

Sirius laughed easily enough, showing Barty how it's done, "Oh, you think highly of me Barty, but no, I might be able to fix the problems of magical Britain, but making you laugh? That's beyond any of us mere mortals."

Barty scoffed, slapping a palm down on the desk in front of him, looking for a moment surprised at his own reaction, before he soldiered on, "Lord Black, I am not sure why you are here, other then to jest at my expense, but I am a very busy man." Unlike you, his disapproving stare seemed to say, "So get to the point!" He almost growled out.

Barty was no doubt aware of Sirius goals, for all his faults, he was a consummate political animal. Just one without the actual humanity to lead humans.

He'd have made for a terrible Minister. Effective perhaps. But terrible.

Sirius smiled pleasantly, he had him right where he wanted him, fired up and actually emoting. "Say, Barty, you know how playboy's like me are fickle, how about when I win, I get you to run stuff for me?" He said, lounging in his chair, "You can be my successor too I guess, I don't really want the top hat for too long after all, us kissing and making up will look great for both of us!"

Barty froze almost imperceptibly, before he gave Sirius a penetrating stare, "You expect me to believe th-"

Sirius interrupted him, enjoying himself immensely, because fuck this guy, "I don't like you, mate, you don't like anything. So that's almost like having something in common. Think about it, I'm the easy choice, and if you're on my team, you're in with it when I win, aye?"

Left unsaid was of course the threat that Sirius Black winning the Minister's seat would be, while seeing Barty Crouch Sr as an enemy. It wasn't very appealing to said enemy. Sirius was sure Barty could easily pick up on such subtext.

Like he'd said, Barty might be useless as a human being, but a politician? He was that down to his bones.

"Your win is far from a foregone conclusion, Lord Black." Barty sniped grouchily, but Sirius could see that there was some thinking going on behind all those rulebooks stamped into his brain.

If Sirius was to just offer up any kind of cooperation cold, Barty wouldn't even need to think before rejecting it. Political animal or not, the man was not fond of Sirius or how he'd absolutely tanked any chance at a comeback. Now, now he was all fired up already, which made it easier to connect to old ambitions and feelings instead of just cold thinking.

"With you behind me, you know we're the frontrunners, and with your connections and links to the old boys club around here, you'd set the stage for me and you know it. Come on Barty, don't you want your nice cushy reputation back?" Sirius wheedled, purposefully showing a light measure of need. That he needed Barty's help.

Everyone liked feeling needed, or in Barty's case… Feel superior. Poor uneducated Lord Black coming to get the superior politicians help… Or whatever that old fart thought in his head right now, as he ruminated over Sirius offer.

Narcissa had helped him plan for the meeting. Because Sirius hadn't been there, (for obvious reasons) for the man's fall, and therefore he wasn't perfectly up to date on the man's new life. Without her help this meeting would have likely been played too straight, funnily enough. But Narcissa had pushed hard on needing to unbalance Crouch and also to let him see Sirius as a bit of a loose cannon. Someone to be taken advantage of, because he'd inevitably fall once he crossed the finish line.

Only question was playing it in a way where Crouch would take the short term risk of getting involved, the risk being the possibility (in his eyes) that Sirius would flame out before the election. And not come off as too much of a risk where Crouch wouldn't even play at all. Fizzling out before the election was preferable to running and losing after all.

Not that he would flame out before the game even started. But Crouch wasn't a betting man usually, that was part of his problem actually. And part of why he was so useful as a tool to other people who worried about Sirius stability. Barty Crouch in his corner would silence the majority of his possible detractors.

The question was now, had he thrown enough bait to make Barty bite?

"What… Exactly do you have in mind?" Barty asked reluctantly. Looking like he'd taken a bite of something rather unpleasant.

Sirius grinned. And to think, he didn't even have to bring out all the bribes he had planned for just in case. Or the threats.

Oh, Barty, Barty, Barty, you really should have just thrown me out of this office… He thought, his gaze cold, beneath his playboy veneer. Barty would be useful, but not someone Sirius would allow any real influence in his Ministry.

You'll help me get elected, then it's curtains for you….

He'd use the old boys club and high level bureaucracy circles to gain an edge, but those kinds of people were not proponents for equality. Not really. They'd talk the talk quite often. But when they said equality, they meant equality for them only.

There was no doubt in his mind that they would have to go.

After they've helped him win, of course.

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Millicent Bagnold growled angrily as she stalked down the hallway in the bowels of the Ministry, her emotions spiraling enough that her wand sent sparks flying in the air. She startled, looking wildly around, but there was no one around at the moment to see it. She hadn't accidentally set off her wand since her Hogwarts years for Merlin's sake! It was embarrassing!

Why in Circe's bloody tits did that fool Black suddenly find political ambition!? She groused mentally. And how did he keep getting into her Ministry and walk around unhindered without anyone even giving her a heads up!?

Her career was at its zenith, but she had been about to go out on a good note, retiring in good standing. She'd won the war with He-who-must-not-be-named! Led the Ministry to victory. Her! And thanks to the galleons she'd collected from donations of those amongst the noble families that had been led astray, and therefore had needed to pay reparations (to her) instead of being sent to Azkaban - she had a cushy retirement to look forward to. She'd have been sent off with accolades and the public's adoration.

She would have gone down in the annals as one of the most important Ministers in the history of the nation!

They might even have built a statue to mark her leadership during the country's darkest time! How often did a minister survive a Dark Lord? Let alone defeat him? Granted, she acknowledged quietly in her own mind, it was the Potter boy that had actually done the defeating, but she'd been the one in charge, she deserved her fair share!

And now, thanks to that son of a bitch that the Black's threw away like so much garbage, her reputation was in tatters, her legacy tarnished, her retirement was now more akin to running into hiding!

Bones was even talking about investigating where all the donations to 'charity' had gone! The horrid ungrateful bitch! Millicent should have kept Barty in the position even with his indiscretions, at least that man had some Merlin damn loyalty!

She'd been almost done, on her way out, so she'd picked Bones, a notable straight shooter, to replace Barty in the DMLE. With the intention - that with only just shy of 3 years left on her term at the time, and nothing more to do other than take a victory lap, her successor would have to deal with that problem, not her!

She'd purposely dumped a whole load of parchment work on Bones' department to keep her busy for a few years, so why was she stepping up now?

And damn that wily slippery animal Dumbledore too, who suddenly wouldn't take a floo call or send anything but pithy platitudes in his letters, when he answered at all. The last letter she'd gotten from the old headmaster had the temerity to offer her a job! sending her an application form for the defense against the dark arts position! She was on her way out, not senile!

If he'd only shut down Moody in that damnable trial, this all wouldn't have even happened in the first place, she'd almost thought he'd planned this whole thing for his own push, but the old man wasn't quite the poker player he thought he was, and the shock on his face had been real, Millicent could tell.

You didn't climb up the ranks in the Ministry of Magic without being able to read even the most difficult people.

It wasn't fair! She groused mentally. All this because of an Azkaban inmate! They weren't supposed to come back out and be an issue! That's why they sent people to that hellhole in the first place!

This one was supposed to be kissed and gone to boot! If she wasn't so limited in what she could do right now, she'd arrange for the warden to feel her displeasure, perhaps a posting in Antarctica to study the effects of frostbite on a fool wizard's wedding tackle would do, she thought with vindictive pleasure.

More sparks flew as she stalked down the halls, to her visible consternation. She angrily stuck her wand in her pocket to prevent any further problems where she could be seen. People that had always paid her due deference avoided her in the halls now, looking at her like they'd contract a disease for associating with her. She didn't want to add to the perception of her failings by going around and shooting off her wand like some pubescent fool.

She stormed into the office she'd been seeking, making the occupant jump up in nervous subservience. She harrumphed, pleased. At least someone knew where their bread was buttered. She thought, somewhat mollified. She ignored the fact he'd been reading a magazine instead of doing any actual work. She didn't need the man for his actual skill, or lack thereof, after all.

She needed him because he was practically made to be a hand puppet.

"Cornelius. Just the man I wanted to see." She said brusquely, before the man could say something inane.

Cornelius Fudge was a man prone to saying something inane and useless after all, but he somehow had good connections all around the place, and a favorable public perception for someone not in the upper echelons of the administration, as he excelled at reinventing himself to whatever he needed at any given time to get ahead.

The tiny office was nothing compared to her own, but she found that somewhat pleasing this one time. Her large office had felt very empty as of late, and she kept feeling like the walls were closing in on her.

No matter how many memos she sent to the Department of Mysteries, they refused to explore the possibility someone was charming her walls to loom menacingly. Incompetents all around her, the place would fall apart without her here to keep things straight, she was sure of it.

"Madame Minister, what can I do for you today?" The man said, nervously playing with that silly bowler hat of his, Millicent's eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion at his clear nervousness.

Was his subservient attitude due to showing her a Minister's proper due? Or because he didn't want to deal with her and be tarred with the same brush? Was even this toady trying to avoid dealing with her?

Millicent sneered slightly, deciding it didn't matter as she sat down, giving the nervous bumbling man a hard look. He'd be easy enough to control either way, she decided.

"Have you had any thoughts on the Minister's seat? The support of a previous holder would give you a favorable chance, Cornelius." She said smoothly, eyes piercing his, cataloging his weaknesses, finding them pleasing to her goals.

Millicent easily recognized the avarice in the eyes of the man in front of her at that point. Her own smile turning sharp, she could definitely use this man. He was practically begging to be used. She recognized his kind.

The Ministry had plenty of him, but most of those had backers from the old families. She'd picked Fudge, because he sold out to everyone. So he'd have support, from people believing they could control him. When she'd be the one holding the strings, deciding who would be allowed to use him temporarily.

Put her out to pasture would they? She'd lead this fool to the top, and then use him to go after the people who'd dared to ruin her legacy.

And she'd put Sirius Black back where he belonged. In Azkaban.

Her smile widened, frightening Cornelius into silence, as she thought of the justice in that. Returning that pest to his prison, wiping the slate clear again.

She could rebuild her legacy then, blame it all on Black, claim he'd lied from the beginning.

Yes…

She was still the Minister for now, until the election. Her resources would propel Cornelius as her puppet.

She would win.

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Sirius felt slightly cheated. He'd expected a smoky backroom, with expensive stolen art on the walls, rough leather seats and hard eyed bouncers, with old men sitting all around drinking whiskey, while talking about the good old days. You know, the typical old criminal gentlemen's club that old rich people hang out in so they can say racist and horrible things near like-minded people, while making deals that in no way were legal.

"Not exactly what I'd pictured when you said you had a good place to eat and discuss things without any nosy ears around..." He spoke his thoughts out loud to Arcturus, his grouchy grandfather sitting across from him in the upscale and hidden French muggle restaurant.

The restaurant was practically hidden away from everything, it was nowhere near any major streets in London and was hidden behind a fenced in alleyway, graffiti in abundance on the walls, no sign in its surroundings that a classical upscale French restaurant was around. No signs that any restaurant was around. It wasn't hidden by magic, in fact there was no magic used at all around here, it was all plain muggle misdirection.

Arcturus grunted, watching the server with ill hidden suspicion. Their deaf muggle server. Which Sirius thought bore repeating. Muggle. They were here in robes and his grandfather had used magic without blinking. Just what? His family continued to confuse him the longer he was around them.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Because he'd naturally assumed that Arcturus would rather die than voluntarily sitting down in a muggle run restaurant. No matter the reason. He certainly hadn't been taken with the muggle Indian food and the pop.

The restaurant was full of splendor, a rich cream carpet in the entranceway, leading to a dark wooden floor, waxed to a shine, gold and white fixtures and tables, with tasteful pieces of art interspersed as obvious conversation pieces. The lighting was provided by crystal chandeliers, he was pretty sure he saw diamond salt and pepper shakers at the waitresses station! The napkins were monogrammed cloth with their names for Merlin's sake, and if he wasn't mistaken, the thread count was better than what most rich people use for their bedroom sheets! And they wasted it on napkins! What was even the point of a napkin that soft?

It further entrenched in Sirius mind, that rich people had no idea how to spend money.

"What is this place, grandfather?" Sirius asked, still surreptitiously looking around, not wanting to be so gauche as to look around like a country rube. This place was obviously something special if Arcturus would willingly come here, despite its muggle staff and locale.

Arcturus finished writing down their orders, handing the slip of paper (not parchment, and using a ballpoint pen!) off to the deaf waitress with obvious distaste on his features. For all that the restaurant had other tables, Sirius suspected only one table was ever used at a time. It really had that odd feel to it.

He felt like he was in a Bond movie or something.

Arcturus finally answered, after taking a fortifying sip of a dark red wine that was definitely illegal to serve in a muggle restaurant, it seemed his tastes did not go so far as to have him forgo a magical vintage. "It's a Black owned business." He rumbled, looking none too pleased at that fact.

Sirius chuckled, raising his own crystal wine glass to salute his grandfather, "How progressive of you." He teased, knowing from the context that it surely predated his grandfather.

He knew from what he'd read up on so far in the Lord's study, that the Black's had at numerous times, invested heavily in the muggle world. Not on more modern things like full on corporations or shares or anything like that. Way too muggle, that. No, his ancestors got involved in buying and running useful side businesses that could provide the family with something.

This restaurant hadn't come up, so it must be a fairly newer one as Sirius would have read about it if it was an older investment. And not too new, because he couldn't see Arcturus as the one starting it.

Arcturus glared at him, lips pulled taut, "Its use has been proven countless times, as much as I detest it, and I've never found a better place for clandestine meetings, somehow no one magical ever looks in the muggle world." He grimaced, looking like he'd tasted something foul, "It's run by people born out of… A squib line… "He looked pained to admit it, but it couldn't be hidden from Sirius anyway, he'd find it eventually now that he was Lord Black. "My grandfather created the business, although it's gone through numerous iterations since…"

Sirius grinned, raising a questioning eyebrow, "I was going to say… French? Really?"

"Like I said… Numerous iterations. They remodel, switching cuisines every decade or so for some inane muggle reason, I haven't kept track, I rarely use this place anymore." Arcturus grumbled, "Clients are brought via portkey for a meeting, and after the locale has been used for a couple of those, they inevitably move, you'll receive a letter with the new address when it happens so you can arrange more clients. I've never held any other contact with them."

"Sounds expensive." Sirius mused out loud, taking a small sniff of his wine, the bouquet was certainly enticing. "Moving around like that, the muggle way, hiding from the muggle authorities no doubt…" It was kind of fascinating really, considering the Black family view of muggles.

Apparently pragmatism really did trump all.

Arcturus considered Sirius for a moment, something pleased in the tired old man's gaze, "Bah, they get paid for it enough," He said with a dismissive snort, "But you are correct, the use of this restaurant for Black family clients is rather expensive. For them."

"Seems an odd thing to spend so much on, safety in the anonymity of the muggle world works just as fine at any regular restaurant." Sirius pointed out, trying to figure out how this business could even run.

Arcturus was too dignified to roll his eyes, but the look he gave Sirius made it clear he would if he could, "Wizards require pomp, a negotiation could not go down well in a regular muggle hovel, they'd be afraid of catching a disease."

Sirius sighed, taking a sip of wine, hmm, that might be the best sip of wine I've ever had. He thought, marveling. The place had quality in spades, that was clear. Even if it straddled both worlds in a very weird, and definitely illegal way. "You have a definite point there." He acknowledged, ignoring the smug look on his grandfather's face, "Anonymity is worth its weight in gold to some wizards."

Very few wizards knew their way around the muggle world. Well there were muggleborns, but they didn't exactly move in the circles that mattered.

For wizards that did not have a several generations old family manor with lethal wards able to shrug off anything short of a nuke, a discreet place to hold sensitive negotiations was worth a high price. Eavesdropping was fairly easy with magic after all, and anything short of top tier wards would eventually be breached by a skilled enough snooper.

The best way to avoid spies, and magical eavesdropping, was to not be anywhere they could be found. Unless you were already tagged with a spell, someone would have to know where you were, to try and tap in and listen.

There was also the inherent power imbalance present in meeting in a Lord's manor. Where the Lord held ultimate power. It made for negotiations that were inherently tilted in the home grounds favor.

Hence the constantly moving, high tier restaurant, that only took on a few dozen clients a year. Run by muggles, which no wizard would ever find to interrogate. And apparently deaf to boot so they couldn't even spy on their conversation anyway.

"The deafness? Just hired as a prerequisite?" Sirius asked, a suspicion forming, because it really was very convenient. Too convenient.

Arcturus scoffed, giving him a derisive look, "Of course not, it's a bloodline curse," He said matter of factly, "The original squib got a curse put on him that ensured all his descendants would be deaf."

Sirius frowned, what else did I expect? He thought, shaking his head slowly, "That's not very nice. Especially to people performing a service for you, and now for me." He said, voice turning slightly harsher.

It came too close to slavery for his taste. Even if they were well paid for a job they only had to do for perhaps forty times a year, it was still a cruel way to ensure compliance, a vow of silence wouldn't have been that hard to get working for a muggle.

"You can't be serious?" Arcturus said, raising a hand before Sirius could even try to capitalize, "No, don't," He said hurriedly, having heard many a serious/Sirius jokes. "And these vermin get paid very well for this, you are Lord Black, you can not feel pity for every ant that crosses your path." The old man seemed very intent to push that agenda across.

"These ones belong to the family, squib line or no. They are not ants." Sirius said coldly. Pressing his own point, glaring his grandfather into obedience. He would not allow the casual racism anymore then he would the overt.

He was well aware, even before this life, working as an equalizer, that not everyone can be saved. It was foolish to even try, as if you did, you failed even more people by trying the impossible and inevitably failing doing so. That said, it took a special kind of asshole to look at family like ants. Magic or no magic, they were still Blacks!

In his world-view, it was acceptable to sometimes sacrifice a person or two to bring good to thousands or hundreds of thousands. Most people did not have the wherewithal to make that choice - to kill one to save a thousand. But the equalizers existed to make that choice. That said, magically binding their - in their mind lesser bloodline to a job, and cursing them with deafness, for their own convenience more than anything, was beyond the pale.

It's because of families like his own that he needed to reform the magical world. Because of this exact thing.

Arcturus sighed, waving a wrinkly hand dismissively, "Fine, as you wish, Lord Black, I wouldn't even know how to fix the curse; however. Black family curses tend to be permanent." He scowled darkly, "Especially to Blacks."

Sirius had a feeling there was a story there…

Further conversation was interrupted as their guest arrived in the entrance hall. The deaf waitress immediately moved to escort them in, having spotted their arrival.

"Lord Black. Arcturus." He said clippedly, taking the empty seat at the table, regaly accepting a glass of wine from the proprietor who'd entered the dining room at the arrival. Somehow aware of it, while unable to hear the arrival.

They made small talk as their guest filled out his own note for his order, keeping it light and banal. Sirius hated small talk. But it was a necessity in these circles.

"It's not often I get an invitation to enjoy the services of the Black Hole." Algernon Croaker murmured softly. "In fact this is only the third time."

Arcturus scowled darkly, "It is not called that!" He groused, deeply affronted.

Sirius barked out a laugh, enjoying the dismay on his grandfather's face, "Oh, I disagree, it's very fitting." He countered with a playful smirk on his face.

Croaker raised an eyebrow, face flat. "Irregardless of its official name, it's long since been called the Black Hole, whether you like it or not, Arcturus." He said plainly, not looking like he cared either way, but felt the need to provide an explanation.

Unspeakables, they were all a weird bunch. Croaker probably more than most, Sirius privately thought, since the man was the head weirdo. The only 'publicly' known member of the Department of Mysteries.

"It is a pity it's French inspired nowadays, I quite enjoyed the time when it was devoted to Mediterranean cuisine." Croaker lamented, eyeing them both with sharp intelligent eyes. "I had a splendid dinner conversation with the man who'd become Lord Voldemort at this exact table, in fact, once upon a time." He shrugged his shoulders casually, "Charming man, even though his recruitment pitch failed we enjoyed a splendid dinner." He paused, before continuing, "Bit of a sore loser though, tried to have me killed half a dozen times afterwards."

"Must you," Arcturus groaned, "You tell that story everytime we meet alone anywhere."

Croaker folded his hands in his lap, his wine left entirely unattended, "I've always found reminders a useful method to keep important information close to mind, so one can avoid mistakes." He said calmly, but there was definitely a sharpness deep in that gaze.

Sirius definitely got a feeling that Algernon Croaker was one of those wizards you didn't cross lightly. Who knew what secrets he had available in the depths of his department. Well, all for the better. It's entirely the reason why he'd decided to reach out. After probing Arcturus on everything he knew about his contemporary.

"I couldn't have known what would happen." Arcturus blustered, as Sirius watched in fascination, was his grandfather… Embarrassed?

Croaker looked unimpressed, "I believe my exact words to you after meeting the young Lord was - he will use your family members like disposable wipes if you're foolish enough to be entangled." He reminded Sirius grandfather, with some censure in his voice.

"I didn't know what disposable wipes were!" Arcturus protested petulantly, "Still don't." He added in a low mutter.

"As absolutely fascinating as this is." Sirius said amusedly, tapping his ring on his wine glass lightly to draw their attention. "We are not here to drag up old regrets, of which I'm sure you both have many. It's a new world now, that's what we're here to discuss."

"I'm apolitical." Croaker said immediately, jaw sticking out stubbornly.

"Bloody hell you are, Algie." Arcturus muttered under his breath. Ceasing his mumblings after a censoring look from Sirius.

The fact Croaker really didn't play the usual Ministry game was a plus, in Sirius's opinion. But the one thing that brought him firmly into Sirius' sight, was the fact Croaker did not subscribe to the Dumbledore cult. There was a reason why other than recruiting Augustus Rookwood, neither Voldemort or Dumbledore had gotten their hands on anything important from the Department of Mysteries during the war.

"I'm not asking you to stick your neck out for me, Director." Sirius said placatingly, although obviously if he could manage that, he wouldn't say no, either…

"Then what are you asking, forgive my skepticism, but this place rents for a fortune per hour, I doubt you've brought me here for nothing." Croaker said skeptically, his eyes flickering to Arcturus for a moment, "You Black's never do anything for nothing."

"There's no Black's quite like me. So you'll have to alter that worldview soon enough, Director." Sirius said jovially, although inwardly he was a bit annoyed, obviously Arcturus had poisoned the well here in the past. He had a feeling he'd run into a lot of that the further into politics he dipped.

"A wonderful sentiment, I do love learning something new, the world is after all ever evolving. But I note, also not an answer to my query." Croaker said dryly. A smile blooming on his face right after as he noticed the waitress and proprietor return, plates in their hands. "Splendid, I'm curious to see if they can do to French cuisine what they did to the Mediterranean."

Sirius smiled at the waitress as she placed a plate of beautifully prepared and artfully crafted escargot in front of him. He did love to try new things, "I have actually brought you here so that I can help you." Sirius said, taking the time after to sample his food, which might be worth the horrendous price of the locale, was this really snails? It was divine.

Croaker likewise was enjoying the first bites of his meal, not immediately jumping into a rebuttal. Arcturus stubbornly drank more wine instead, ignoring the food. No doubt some stick up his ass about it being muggle prepared. Honestly, sometimes the man just exhausted Sirius.

"I don't particularly need help with anything." Croaker said amusedly. "Unless it is helping me enjoy a good meal, In which case, thank you, you've delivered."

Sirius smirked, "Would the method Voldemort used to survive a killing curse interest you? That would help you quite well in figuring him out, am I correct?"

Croaker froze in place, fork halfway to his mouth.

"What!?" He explained, bending forward a light of need in his eyes.

Sirius grinned.

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Some hours later.

Arcturus growled, irritated, "Was all that really necessary?" He asked, his plate completely cleaned off, by Sirius, because why waste orgasmic food?

This was why being completely stuck on any point of an ideology to the point of obtuseness was ridiculous. He came to the restaurant, then because of his worldview he couldn't even bend or stretch it even the slightest - to simply try the food.

Sirius had also ordered dessert, to expand his experience and extend it, as well as to rub it into his grandfather's face. And then he'd ordered even more dessert. Because why not? Also their coffee must have been wrung out of angel tears somehow, because he'd never had anything like it. He thought Italians were supposed to be the experts, but these people blew any previous experience away.

Not that he'd even ordered it, they'd just pushed a coffee cup on him with the dessert and he'd tried it.

Considering the ways magicals could enhance a beverage, their skill as regulars was something special indeed. He'd have to utilize this service more often…

Sirius nodded seriously to his grandfather's question, having one last longing look around, he kind of wanted to hire these people to be his personal chefs, but the curse… "Croaker swore an unbreakable vow, he won't spread the information. And he's more trustworthy than Dumbledore when it comes to destroying these things." It didn't even need to be said that of course he'd had his grandfather sworn to a vow as well. He was no fool.

"And you gained his support." Arcturus grumbled.

Sirius grinned proudly, "And I gained his support." He agreed, feeling quite pleased with himself.

He'd mostly planned to leave the pieces of old Tommy boy's soul alone until he became the Minister of Magic. But pragmatism took a hold of him. It was not entirely improbable that he'd be assassinated before taking the seat, he was after all upsetting the status quo. He could hardly trust his family to do what was needed in that case. They'd revert to old habits without him there to force them forward.

He'd almost wanted to let Dumbledore know so he'd go and get himself killed. But knowing him, he'd somehow manage to let Voldemort know all about it and bring him back early. Sirius would rather leave it to a professional. Who he'd keep a very watchful eye on, of course. Because trust but verify still applied, always.

Croaker would do his part no matter what, whether Sirius was around or not. He had the whole department if needed, and he wouldn't be telling any of them what exactly they were doing if he put any of them to use.

And it neatly proved Sirius had only good intentions to the old man, which ensured he'd go to bat for Sirius from within the Ministry. He had a lot of pull, people listened when he talked. And he never endorsed a candidate. Until now.

Of course the fact the man was so apolitical worked against him in some ways, like a bit of political naivete. Sirius being a good man when it came to vanquishing a Dark Lord that would undoubtedly kill him if he came back - was not the same thing as an honest Minister of Magic.

Sirius intended to be a great Minister, sure. But he had a bit of a different idea of what was great then most current magicals did. Most of him had come from a proper democratic purely muggle country after all.

Oh well… He'll learn, who knows he might even approve of me changing the wizarding world. Sirius thought. It was unlikely. He found old men rarely approved of change in any way.

A minute later, both men left the restaurant behind.

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Next day.

"Alright, what's next?" Sirius asked, too tired to bother retiring to his Lord's study for his work, holding the meeting instead at the kitchen table, while enjoying a bacon sandwich.

His two guests had both protested vividly to the locale and the idea Sirius would be eating while discussing things with them. Sirius hadn't cared one whit and pushed on regardless.

Out in public he might have to mostly behave, but in his home, everyone else could just adapt to him, or else.

Kreacher had many faults, but he was a whizz at bacon. He made it just like Sirius liked it, one tenth bread, nine tenths bacon.

Narcissa, perched with perfect poise at the other end of the table, wrinkled her nose at the crumbs littering the table in front of Sirius, "The meeting with Lord Malfoy." She reminded him. Too posh apparently to simply say my husband.

Sirius gave her a long-suffering look, "Right, that ponce… Fine. When?"

Narcissa tapped the magical calendar that was floating in the air between them with a perfectly manicured nail. "He is available on the 13th, 15th or the 24th, my Lord." She said idly, showing no preference.

Sirius noted that his own schedule was by coincidence free on those days, "Fine, I'd rather get it over with anyway, do the 13th." He ordered. That way Cissy won't rearrange anymore of my schedule around Malfoy's availability, he thought, with some annoyance.

"I'll see to it, my Lord." Narcissa said simply, showing no smugness. Simply noting it and moving past it.

Cassiopeia, sitting next to Narcissa sighed, looking bored out of her mind, "Was there any point in me being here? Or did you just want an audience while you played with your secretary?" She said irritably, slowly adding, "My lord." After receiving a cold look from Narcissa.

Sirius pointed his half eaten bacon sandwich at her, making her grimace, "Yes, I just wanted to see how long until you cracked and complained before we got into it." He said with a sardonic smile on his face.

"This is why I like books better." Cassiopeia muttered, "Less snark." She shook her head, slowly, "Well, what do you need of me, my Lord."

"I'm starting a charity foundation, the Lily Potter foundation." Sirius began, noting the loaded looks his two family members briefly shared, "I have yet to acquire the Daily Prophet, so it will buy me good press in the right moment, right now." He explained, adding as an afterthought, "And it helps the children of course."

Sirius still hadn't managed to track down the owners of the largest share of the British wizarding world's major paper. They had top of the line family wards obviously. He'd have to dig into the library and use a dark spell based on the hair he'd stolen from their child, the first one had failed.

"And how will it help the children, exactly?" Narcissa asked dryly, with a raised eyebrow.

"And what does it have to do with me?" Cassiopeia wanted to know, looking dismayed, "I don't handle children!" She added with a look of dread in her eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes, taking a large bite of his bacon sandwich, chewing slowly as Cassiopeia looked a mix between annoyed and fearful. "You won't have to actually interact with kids, so keep your knickers on." He said finally. "You'll be setting it up, get all the paperwork done, the press, dealing with the Ministry, hiring, all the work to have it up and running."

Cassiopeia looked relieved, yet still annoyed, "You're putting me on parchment work duty?" She complained.

Narcissa had to hide a smile behind her hand at the almost whiny tone from the older woman. Sirius shared an amused look with her, before he continued to explain what he wanted, "Its main purpose is to sponsor a full scholarship for Hogwarts for all the British children that might want to go."

Despite being in Scotland, the fact was that Hogwarts was the premier school in Britain, not the only one, and it was not affordable to the majority of children in Britain. That's why it had a majority of English students - that tended to have more income amongst the muggleborn, and the rich amongst the purebloods. Weasley's were so apparently destitute because they spent all their money on their children's education.

The Scottish, Irish, and Welsh, were seriously underrepresented at Hogwarts. Sirius intended to more than double, and ideally, triple the Hogwarts class sizes. It would be expensive, but nothing the Black's couldn't easily afford. And it would build him, as a side benefit, a great amount of goodwill with a lot of voters.

Granted, with how their system worked, the voters were the least important part in winning an election, paradoxically.

The actual election finished in the Wizengamot chambers. The vote for the common people was not released until after the Wizengamot had their say. That allowed the Wizengamot to take the numbers as a hint at what people wanted, but then choose whether to follow it or not and then people just assumed the winning contender got the most votes. That said a vast majority vote by itself would likely move the Wizengamot to follow it, but rarely did anyone gain such a substantial edge in the election.

It's why Sirius had to play both angles. Win the popular vote to pressure the Wizengamot, and wine and dine the nobs, to ensure the Wizengamot didn't fuck him at the finish line. It's also how Fudge could constantly simper to the public, while also turning around and fucking them constantly to please his backers. Because between the two, his backers mattered more, politically.

"That's an admirable goal." Narcissa said softly, an honest smile on her face for once. The smile lightening up her usually cold visage, making her look much younger. She did seem to have a soft spot for kids ever since she'd had her sprog as far as Sirius could tell.

"It really doesn't seem like my type of task." Cassiopeia complained lightly. "And I've still not finished the other work you've tasked me with," She reminded him.

"You'll set it up, I have someone else intended to run it once all the parchment work and permits are in." Sirius admitted. He was well aware Cassiopeia wouldn't be suitable for the interpersonal duties of the job.

"She will hex you." Narcissa said matter of factly, immediately understanding his intent.

Cassiopeia eyed Narcissa queerly, before her eyes widened and she swung back to Sirius, "Andromeda?" She guessed, looking skeptical when Sirius' face said she'd guessed correctly, "Really? She'll never accept!"

Sirius smirked, "Maybe, maybe not, but the charity doesn't have to be run by the Black family after I've gotten the initial press. I have no problem giving her full rein and funding and letting her loose." His smirk turned playful, "Think of all the children," He said almost mockingly, "Without this charity they won't get the help they need, and only Andromeda can help them."

Sure, the kids had other, lesser schools, but inevitably those were the kind of schools that made the Stan Shunpikes of the world, not the Amelia Bones'. Would Andromeda still refuse to help even if Sirius backed out after the initial capital? Sirius didn't think so. She couldn't have that much of an issue with the family.

He hoped.

Besides he could easily hint at the fact it would make it even more likely little Nymphadora would get ahead in the world by simply being involved with the charity. She'd have lots of friends by default and support all around.

In one move he'd get amazing press, start an actually needed charity that would also by happenstance endear him to Harry Potter when he found out on his introduction, and also bring Andromeda closer to the family, whether she liked it or not. He was quite smug about the plan.

"She will hex you." Narcissa reiterated, shaking her head. But notably not saying it was a bad idea either.

It would work. Sirius was like, 95 percent sure.

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One of the advantages of being filthy rich was the fact that hard to make potions that he didn't really have time to make or spend time learning how to do - was literally just a floo call or an owl away.

Hence, when he needed Polyjuice, there was no need for him to wait a month. He just tossed galleons around.

As for the hair, it was beyond easy enough to simply nab some from an unsuspecting muggle. And if Sirius picked the biggest, scariest, scarred muggle he could find? Well, intimidation was part of what he was going for after all.

Now he couldn't really approach Private Drive. He had an agreement with Dumbledore, for now. And he'd, for now, acquiesced to not removing Harry from his home. So going for a visit would no doubt create a problem for him as Dumbledore would find out. Whether he'd added some wards to find out, or used Arabella Figg for it, he couldn't say.

Either way, he was in no state, politically, personally, and security wise, to take in Harry quite yet. He still had mixed feelings in regards to the kid too, but he wasn't such a tool that he'd subject Harry to months or years of neglect.

He'd get him out once he was in the Minister's seat and could fight Dumbledore on somewhat equal grounds. Probably.

But that didn't say he couldn't interfere, in a way Dumbledore wouldn't even know about.

Hence, he'd taken to stalking the local supermarkets nearby to Private Drive, he'd used different Polyjuice disguises while he asked around surreptitiously.

Petunia Dursley was not hard to describe, and as he apparently found out when he found the right supermarket, nor was she easily forgotten.

She was infamous at the local market, always arguing quality and prices and treating staff like they were lesser beings. Always in a way where it wasn't overt enough to make anything more out of it, but noticeably annoying. A true Karen.

So today, Sirius was walking through the market parking lot waiting for Petunia. According to the goss, she tended to shop in the middle of the day on these days, while lugging around her precious Dudders.

Harry of course left behind, rarely seen in public.

By luck, he spotted her driving in, and intercepted her as soon as she got out of the car, before she could get her beachball child out.

"Petunia Dursley, we need to speak about Harry Potter." He rumbled, as he loomed over her.

Petunia, who'd begun to look ready to scream and cause a scene at being accosted, immediately froze, her lips turning on an impressive Snape like sneer, 7.5 on a Snape scale, he'd say. "You're one of them!?" She whisper-yelled. "We have nothing to talk about, you're not supposed to contact us!"

Sirius grinned menacingly, leaning close in, even if he was a whole foot taller than the woman. "But see, I'm the kind of ruddy magical who has feet in both worlds… I know how to contact children's services, the coppers, the media." His grin turned pure evil, "Your little lady gossip association… "I know about the cupboard Petunia… Want pictures to decorate your neighbors doors?"

No matter how good of a liar she was, she wouldn't be able to weasel out of that one. And as long as Dumbledore believed Harry was within the wards of Private Drive, he wouldn't give a shit if the neighbors were whispering about the Dursleys.

Petunia put a hand to her heart, her face turning almost completely white, the woman entirely ignoring the fully screaming Dudders in his carseat. "Wh-What do you w-want?" She squeaked out, looking ready to faint.

Sirius brought out several documents from a hidden pocket, just to be an ass, making it look like they appeared from nothing, like magic. "I have set up a pediatrician for him, you'll take him, you'll take him there regularly, if I hear you've missed an appointment…" His voice turned dangerously rough, "Well, you know what to expect, at minimum then, won't you?"

Petunia gulped, fear flickering through her eyes as she stared down at the documents like they were snakes, "I… I can do that." She agreed reluctantly.

Sirius clapped sardonically, papers still in hand, making Petunia flinch back. "See, you can be reasonable. When facing the threat of your entire life being ruined." He said, "This second one is for you. You'll be meeting a dietician, one specialized in children. One laying out a meal plan for Harry. And I suppose if you're clever, you could use it for your beachball of a son too…"

"There is nothing wrong with what I feed him!" Petunia snapped, being so offended she forgot to be scared for a moment.

"I don't care." Sirius said bluntly. "You'll do it. And you'll follow the meal plan for Harry."

Seeing an almost sly look creep into the woman's eyes, Sirius leaned in, putting his arm against the car, boxing the woman in further, making her freeze, "Petunia… He rumbled dangerously, "I will have someone check on Harry regularly, his weight and vitamin levels will be checked on his regular pediatric appointments. You will not bloody mess this up!"

"Why are you doing this!? We were promised we'd be left alone!" Petunia broke down, tears flowing as her petty thoughts to work around him were spotted and destroyed.

Sirius would not be able to continue too much longer, a man his size and look, looming over a woman in the parking lot, would likely bring some attention soon enough.

"Finally, I will be hiring a muggle to come by weekly, to inspect his surroundings, ensure he's taken care of, that he has clothes and toys and everything a child needs." Sirius said, "Now to assist you in this, he will be bringing money." Already spotting the greed in the no longer crying woman, Sirius inwardly sighed but outwardly put his foot down again. "He will check it was used for Harry. Do not misuse it. I can easily have your husband undergo some tax problems if you piss me off enough and the ruined reputation isn't enough of a threat for you."

Sullen silence greeted him, Petunia staring down at the pavement. Dudders was still screeching at full volume in the car. Petunia too focused on Sirius to even notice, which said something considering how ridiculous she'd been with that kid in canon.

"Petunia. Are we understood, or do I need to ruin you to ensure Harry gets a better time somewhere else?" Sirius threatened.

"I understand." She snapped. "Don't expect me to be happy about it!"

"As another note. Do not leave Harry with any neighbors, do not speak with your neighbors about Harry other than in general terms." Sirius handed the woman a card, which she very reluctantly took, holding it between her forefinger and middle finger like it would burst into flames. "This muggle will babysit Harry anytime you need it. If anyone asks, he's a relative of Vernon's just helping out." Sirius handed her the rest of the documents, forcing the woman to properly hold them, or lose the whole bunch.

Sirius could do more, but he doubted he could force the Dursleys into more than this minimum level of effort without some sort of rebellion. And with this much of an improvement to Harry's life, he would at least be somewhat comfortable, and be around people who could show him some actual comfort now and then. And since nothing outwardly changed outside Private Drive. Dumbledore's squib spy should have nothing important to report. On Sirius' end, the people for this job that he'd hired were acquaintances of the Black squib line people he'd met at the restaurant, they were trustworthy, but most of all entirely muggle. So the wards wouldn't care.

Harry would get regular doctor's appointments, regular meals, toys and clothes like a person, and human contact through his staff if the Dursley's wouldn't pony up. Hopefully that would help a little before Sirius could take him out of there. Honestly he'd probably do a shit job as a parent, but he'd try at least.

"I will be watching Petunia. Make sure Vernon finds out all the details. And that if he interferes or refuses any of this, tax problems will be the least of his issues when I start using magic to destroy his job." Sirius couldn't help but let loose another threat. Not sure if it would be enough for Vernon that their treatment of Harry would become public.

Before Petunia could answer, he walked off, and as soon as he was in an alleyway, he apparated away.

His grandfather might disdain their family off the squib line of the family. But to Sirius, they were eminently useful. Having agents in the muggle world was very useful when there were hardly any wizards that could properly help there.

Just because something wasn't in many cases as good as magic, didn't make it inherently useless. Just different.

And if anything could make a difference in the magical world…

It was a person willing to use every possible tool on his belt, holding nothing back.

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