Tom handed over a summary he'd drafted of what the role of Chairman would require, and the two of them settled on meeting Thursday at the Wizard's Guild headquarters in Diagon Alley, with a visit to Grindelwald planned for Saturday as well.
Grindelwald had, by now, become the wizarding world's universally acknowledged Dark Lord, and his methods ran far more openly than Voldemort's ever had, yet somehow his reputation had come out considerably better for it. Over three hundred Aurors taken captive, only a handful of unlucky casualties among them, was practically a stroke of good fortune given the circumstances.
More than a few of those released afterward had actually spoken well of Grindelwald once they got home, which only made the various Ministries more painfully aware of just how persuasive the man could be, and more wary of him for it.
But so long as he wasn't outright killing people with magic, most found him tolerable enough. Lose the fight, get to walk away alive, that was more than enough for most people to accept.
Which was exactly why Sirius found himself so curious about Grindelwald now.
Watching Sirius's face light up with anticipation, Tom half worried the man might actually get talked straight into Grindelwald's camp. What a sight that would make of Dumbledore's expression.
...
Thursday morning.
Winter was slowly loosening its grip on London's streets, warmth creeping back into the air, though damp still clung stubbornly to the city, a faint smell of mildew drifting everywhere.
Moss crept across the paving stones of Diagon Alley. Being a weekday, with school still in session, the street sat fairly quiet, only a scattering of idle wizards wandering about, browsing goods, occasionally glancing toward the striking new building that had risen up over the past month, curiosity plain on their faces.
Gringotts had always, without question, been the grandest structure in Diagon Alley, standing at the far end of the lane, visible from nearly any point in the street. Most people used it as a fixed point of reference when giving directions to other shops.
That might be about to change. A new three-story building had risen just past the exit of the Leaky Cauldron, matching Gringotts in scale if nothing else, forcing the surrounding shops to make room. The plot of land itself had been forcibly expanded through magic to make space for it.
Only a select few knew the full truth of what it was. Most of the public remained entirely in the dark, their curiosity simply building toward the day the place finally opened its doors.
Today, Tom had invited not only Sirius but also dragged the two old men, cooped up at home for far too long, out for some fresh air and exercise.
"This place is enormous."
Standing in the wide entrance hall on the ground floor, Sirius craned his neck upward. The second and third floors formed a ring around an open center rather than complete floors of their own, so standing here in the main hall, he could see straight up to the ceiling, and glimpse dozens of individual rooms lining each level above.
"Everyone needs a bit of privacy, don't you think?" Tom said with a smile. "Would you really want the whole hall to know what job you just finished and what treasure you walked away with?"
Sirius lowered his gaze, tilting his head at Tom, faintly puzzled. "Wouldn't that be a good thing, though?"
Tom: "..."
He really had been a fool to expect this brute to grasp subtlety. If Sirius and James Potter had understood even this much back in their day, maybe neither of their families would have fallen apart the way they had.
"Don't flaunt your wealth." Nicolas stepped in with a smile to smooth things over. "Do you have any idea what the lower rungs of the wizarding world actually look like? People come to blows over something as small as a single potion, or one rare ingredient."
Sirius finally understood what Tom and Nicolas were getting at, though he still grumbled under his breath, clearly unconvinced. "I still don't much like the idea of serving people like that."
Nicolas shook his head, exasperated by the naivety of it. "Thieves, bandits, smugglers. None of them are respectable, none of them hold any real status, but you can never truly afford to overlook people at the bottom rung. Every trade has its own hard-won skill, and sometimes that skill turns out to matter more than anyone expects, at exactly the moment it counts."
Newt nodded in agreement, a wistful look crossing his face as he thought back on his own more glorious years. "Back in my day, if it weren't for the portkey dealers, I never would have managed to smuggle myself into nearly every country in the world with a functioning Ministry of Magic. Only real downside was how they kept raising their prices on me, said I'd gotten too famous for my own good."
Tom: —
Whoever claimed Hufflepuff couldn't produce someone capable of earning a stint in Azkaban clearly hadn't met Newt. The things this man alone had gotten up to could have filled an entire wing of Slytherin's rap sheet by himself.