bait_backup | Yeah I stole, never got caught

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Yeah I stole, never got caught

*Though one of the Ministry's most seasoned and commended Aurors, and certainly the most respected man currently on the squad, most of Moody's days involve failure. For all the leads he follows, connections he makes, and arrests listed under his name, what sticks with him are the hints of smiles of people walking away due to lack of evidence and the word of his gut when he knows someone's guilty of something but it hasn't yet been revealed to him. Lucius Malfoy has been on a mental list of his for months, his foul political dealings and pathetic viewpoints so obvious but so unverifiable - he is of the people who Moody would do away with due process for, if it meant having a shot at him. The white mask is practically implied, the way the man behaves.

Fortunately, those kinds of people almost always tend to be the cause of their own downfall. It's all a matter of waiting long enough and keeping them under the radar, waiting for them to make a mistake, and Lucius is no exception to this statistic. Of course the Minister's less and less stringent requirements for perpetrating a raid have helped, but Moody finds he's content with that, and is ready to make the sweep of the Malfoy's absurdly lordly property worthwhile. Lucius' playground taunts may mean nothing individually, but when directed toward an Auror it eventually becomes irresponsible for his claims to go uninvestigated.

With the signed papers in hand, Moody and his small assembly have legal access to the grounds. The only thing that alerts the evening to their presence is the wild cry of a ghostly peacock as it darts across the lawn behind them just before he legs the knocker drop three heavy times.*

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*She watches with practised impassiveness as Sirius fusses with his Dark Detector, the ancient wards on the manor causing it to read things it otherwise wouldn't. Shifting her son to her other hip, Narcissa's icy gaze settles on one of the unfortunate shames of the Black family.*

You can't open it yourself?

*He grits his teeth for a minute, but getting something you want out of Narcissa has never been easy for Sirius. He settles for the politest tone he can muster--it's as if he's reciting from the Auror procedure handbook. It's safer, anyway, than letting himself off the very tight leash he's got himself on now.*

It's setting off the Detector. It's best to let the owner of a house open any locked drawers that set off a detector.

Is that so?

*Narcissa's eyes widen in false interest, then she smiles with poisoned sweetness.*

Draco's not walking yet; there's no need to lock drawers that little fingers might reach. Is there, darling boy?

*Her son chooses that moment to chime in with a "bah!"*

*At the sound, he finally looks 'round to Draco and Sirius' mouth curls into frown of distaste. He loves Harry very much, but babies in general are not a thing he generally understands or likes, and Draco is a baby who just so happens to be the spitting image of the smug Death Eater downstairs.*

If you're refusing to open the drawer, I'll just open it and we'll have to put you down as uncooperative.

*It's an empty enough threat--Lucius has plenty of connections to get out of any repercussions--but Sirius is trying very very hard to stay one hundred percent procedure, and the threat is in the book, and her very presence with the baby, much less her uncooperative nature and the glare she's giving him, are pushing every last button he has.*

I had no idea your stubbornness extended to wilful misunderstanding. I've just informed you we've no need to lock the drawers; if you're incapable of opening them, that's no reflection on me.

*The icily pleasant smile remains, since she's not hindering him in any way.*

I'm not--

*It's a child's refusal, though, and he doesn't want to play this game any longer.*

Fine.

*Sirius rounds on the offending drawer, points his wand at it, and it jumps open--and also jumps entirely off the track and crashes the floor at his feet. The contents are jumbled by the fall and the needle on the Dark detector leaps. It appears to be full of enchanted cameo brooches, all of which are wailing bloody murder in tinny little voices at being unseated.*

Oh, but you are.

*The crash and subsequent uproar from the cameos is enough to set Draco to wailing, and Narcissa abandons all pretence at politeness. Her gaze hardens, her tone becomes authoritative.*

There will be a bill to the Ministry for every last piece of damage you cause while in my home - and it will be made very clear precisely with whom the fault will lie.

*He's not quite shouting, but he is speaking loudly enough to be heard over Draco and the cameos. For all the ridiculousness of the tableaux, the threat is deadly serious.*

And you are interfering with a Ministry raid! Leave before I arrest you for it and your brat ends up in Ministry custody.

*Arthur catches up (past Lucius's angry look up the stairs) just as Sirius raises his voice. He hovers in the doorway, taking in the situation a bit more seriously than he had downstairs. If Sirius loses his temper this could all backfire on them.*

Now, now, Sirius, no need to be rude - but I think your husband could use a bit of help, Mrs. Malfoy.

*It's true. Lucius looks even angrier than Sirius, and the raised voices upstairs and Weasley dashing about his house and Narcissa alone with that traitor - he looks on the verge of cursing someone, and it's only common sense stopping him. He hasn't moved from the landing, but he's watching Prewett and Moody walk off with deep anxiety and loathing. He'd go with them if Narcissa weren't upstairs; he's not willing to go that far away from her when she's with Sirius.*

How dare you!

You are in my home, Sirius Black - warrant or no, and I have done absolutely nothing to hinder your progress, futile though it's been. If you weren't so incompetent as to mishandle the situation, you wouldn't have upset my son!

*Who is now crying in earnest. She turns to level a look of loathing on Arthur, one slim, bejewelled hand rubbing soothing circles on Draco's back as he wails.*

The only person requiring assistance here is that buffoon, and you may assist him to leave my home at once!

*Buffoon, what a stupid little princess she is--

Sirius has his eyes fixed on Arthur, though, trusting the older man's calmness and unfortunate experience in handling this misbegotten family to see him through. He's trying to keep his tone even, though the hatred is showing through more and more. He recites the threat like a mantra.*

She is trying to interfere with a Ministry investigation, Arthur.

*Narcissa laughs mockingly. For all that she doesn't think much of the Weasleys, she thinks far less of Sirius, and directs her rebuttal to the redhaired man.*

On the contrary, Mister Weasley, I've done nothing to prevent any investigation - though perhaps that term can only be loosely applied here. As you can see, the only thing happening here is the systematic destruction of property; I'm sure Minister Crouch will be delighted to hear your explanation for the bill we send.

*I will not hex Narcissa Malfoy I will not hex Narcissa Malfoy I will not hex Narcissa Malfoy--

Sirius bends over the fallen drawer, prodding through it rather more roughly than is necessary and using the Detector to find which one, if any, was setting it off.*

*Arthur has six children. He is not particularly fussed about squabbling, and stands next to Sirius with his hands in his pockets.*

All I see, madam, is Auror Black doing his job. Hardly his fault if the drawer fell. Happens all the time, drawers falling.

Perhaps it's what you're used to, Mister Weasley, but it doesn't happen all the time here.

Due care will be taken.

Ouch--

*In rummaging, one of the cameos bit Sirius' finger, and he shakes the thing off and sticks his finger in his mouth. With his free hand, he fishes a bright purple ministry-issue confiscation bag out of his pocket, inverts it, and picks up a cameo.*

This one. It opens up, I think, something's inside. Don't fancy finding out what right at the moment, but I think it's what was setting it off.

*Taking things a little more seriously at that, Arthur steps closer and looks over Sirius's shoulder at the other cameos. He glances back up at the baby in Narcissa's arms, wondering who would leave cursed cameos in a low drawer with a small child in the house. A little one that age, he must be crawling at least by now, and it's not long from crawling to reaching.*

You might look into child-proofing charms, you know.

*Sirius stands, puts the drawer back into the chest. It goes in a little lopsided; something probably did break somewhere in it and Sirius is no carpenter. Well, fine, it'll come out of his pay and they'll be a bit skint this month.

He mutters to Arthur in an undertone as he passes, heading for a china cabinet.*

Can't we get rid of her?

*Arthur follows, lowering his own voice as well. He knows better to bring it up, but he's mindful of the fact that these two shared a childhood, and probably more closely than did she and Gideon.*

Just keep focused, we'll be out of here in a jiff.

*If it's the same tone he uses to defuse the boys when they're upset, well. It seems appropriate.*

All right, all right.

*Sirius casts one final, loathing look over his shoulder to Narcissa, and then turns, scanning meticulously. Next is a bookshelf, and this time Sirius doesn't bother asking--he just undoes the wards with his wand, they're fairly obvious ones to protect something of value. They were everywhere back in that house, the one Sirius is trying very hard not to think of, and he's trying so hard not to think of it while passing the Detector past the row of books that he almost misses the needle spiking. But he swings his hand holding the device back around, closer to the spines this time, and the needle strains hard against the pin at the end of the scale. He narrows it to the shelf, then to the set of books, and then, as he's bringing it closer and closer to the edge of the three spines that seem to be setting it off--two enormous leatherbound tomes and one slim, battered volume--the needle snaps off entirely with a sad little ping.*

Arthur?

*Well. That's new. Eyebrows raised, Arthur joins him at the books. Nothing overtly sinister about them, but that, he knows too well, means nothing.

Carefully, he levitates all three off the shelf so as to better examine them in mid-air.*

I think, Madam Malfoy, we'll be needing these.

*While it dangles in the air, one of the large tomes gives a violent twitch, as if trying to shake off Arthur's spell. Neither of the other books really respond, but the cover to the thin, battered little book flaps open--and Sirius sees a name on the inside cover that stops his breath.

T. M. Riddle. Riddle. Lord Voldemort. From Regulus' research. Here.

Sirius acts without thinking--he leans forward with his own wand, separates the book that moved, and opens a purple Ministry sack to bag it up. Under his breath and turning his body away from Narcissa so the movement of his lips can't be seen, he mutters to Arthur.*

That little one can't go to the Ministry. We need it.

*She doesn't make out what Sirius says, but she does see the swift snagging of the battered volume.*

You are legally required to provide an inventory of everything you remove from the premises prior to your leaving. I do hope you won't be further jeopardising your position as Auror by flouting the rules in such a manner, Mister Black.