Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter Eight: Paint it Black

"I see a red door and I want to paint it Black!" Sirius yelled as he entered the auror offices at the Ministry.

James followed with the declaration, "Bloody brilliant! In case you were about to ask."

Alastor Moody muttered, "Bollocks," as he resumed reading the newspaper.

"Right." Sirius flopped into his chair and threw his feet up onto his desk.

James leaned against the desk, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed as he flipped through paperwork in their 'in' basket. Sirius and he were the department's best aurors, and only handled the most important cases.

"Leave it alone. It takes us days to catch up after a day or two off." Sirius sat up and pulled open one of his bottom desk drawers.

James snorted, read something further, then tossed it aside.

"What?" Sirius held up a rather crooked probity probe that he had jammed into his drawer at some point in the past. He tossed it on top of the papers James had already looked over.

"Someone thinks they can play a prank on us. As if."

"What?"

James picked up the paper again. "Dark Arts fellow. Name's Harry Potter."

"Who's he?"

James shrugged. "I don't know. I'm the only Potter."

"As far as you know. Wasn't there that bird -?"

"Niffler, mate. Niffler. She wanted more than just my jewels, if you know what I mean. And if there was any little bastard, he wouldn't be doing any Dark Arts, if he wanted to prove he was related to me."

Sirius quipped, "And quite young still to be that sort of prodigy."

"My son would be a brilliant quidditch player. I won't settle for anything less."

"Oi, what about me?"

"You? You are not a brilliant quidditch player, Padfoot."

"No, I mean you should give some serious thought to what I suggested. Sisters, we should marry sisters. Close ones."

James smiled. "She'd have to be a brilliant quidditch player. I doubt anyone's as good as me. I should have played for England in the Cup, but duty called."

Moody muttered again, "Bollocks."

James glanced in Moody's direction and shook his head. The guy was past his prime and clearly jealous. Sirius and he had done a lot to advance the auror department since they joined. Moody couldn't keep up with them or all the changes they brought. Old fellow should retire already. He had to be pushing at least fifty.

Sirius grabbed the report. "Let me see how funny they think they are."

After a moment scanning it, Sirius tossed the paper back on the desk. "It's that berk we threw in the floo."

"When?"

"The one that showed up at your house before we left for the concert."

"I don't remember. That concert was bloody brilliant!"

"No, you'll remember this one. He's the one that claimed he was your son, and you married Evans."

James opened his mouth and looked off into the distance. Eventually he repeated, "Evans?"

"Close, but you didn't convince me. Evans, who you fancied since like first year when we got on the train for the first time."

"The ginger? I don't go for gingers, mate."

Seeing Sirius's look of disbelief, James added, "Soulless gingers burn in the sun and can't enjoy watching me play quidditch."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, the floo worked. Your little Harry did something Dark Artsy and now he's with his mama."

"Huh?"

"This isn't funny enough to waste time on, Prongs. The Snapes, dope."

James adopted a look of puzzlement for a moment, then exclaimed, "Well there's no saving him with that kind of story. Those two are un-stay-bull. Working with the Dark Arts made them a couple of twisted monsters. Now that they've done someone in, we can at last send them to Azkaban."

"Clean your glasses. They took baby Harry home."

"Oh. For a bit of torture before they kill him? Maybe we can priori their wands. Definite possibility they used the old crucio. And that's life in Azkaban."

Sirius scratched his nose. "What if they get rid of the body? No body, no crime."

"I thought that was just a saying."

"Who knows what this moron's real name is? I'd say he wasn't worth saving based on his dislike of the Stones, but we can't let that stand in the way of sending dark wizards and witches to Azkaban."

"Especially that dark wizard." James had a special hatred for Severus Snape. Snape was only 16 when he murdered one of James's best friends.