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Staggering, you fell against the stack of books Byron never managed to organize by his front door. They toppled down to the ground, the slaps of them hitting the tile echoed down the corridor of his home. “Byron!” you called feebly through the cottage.
“What the-“ you could hear Byron sleepily exclaim as he lit his wand. You leaned against the nearest wall as you heard Byron stumble into the end of the corridor from you. “What on earth happened?”
“It’s Padfoot.” your voice trembled. Byron closed the distance between the two of you, his hands coming to hold your shoulders. “It’s him, it is Sirius Black. Then I was at Grimmauld Place and- Remus still knew him, Byron, they’re still friends.”
“Oh sugar.” Byron cursed, pulling you into a hug. Your head against his chest, Byron cradled the back of your head with one of his hands, his thumb petting your hair as you shuddered against him.
“What am I supposed to do? What does that mean about the order? What are we going to do?” you cried against him. Byron hugged you tighter to his chest, rocking you slowly.
“First thing to do is get through tonight.” he hushed, “Do you think you can do that?”
You felt a fresh wave of hot tears meet your eyes. Your mind was racing to create fearsome possibilities of what could happen, even as you became distracted every few moments with how extremely tired you were. Already, it felt like Byron was holding up most of your weight.
“Tell me you can do that, love.” Byron cooed under his breath.
“I can do that.” you answered, face feeling hot with self consciousness. You had never been so open with Byron before, but his ease with comforting you was nearly worth the embarrassment.
“Too right.” Byron affirmed, leading you over to the sofa in his sitting room. “How about you close your eyes for a few minutes and think about where we met. Tell me what you remember.” he continued, leaving you to lay down as he opened the window behind you. The cold beach air spilled in from the window like an unfurling blanket. You shivered, pulling a nearby throw woven from thick wool over your shoulders. The low rumble of the ocean waves rolling close by slowed your breathing. Suddenly, your eyes felt so heavy.
“You were lost.” you sniffed, closing your eyes to force yourself to visualize it. Apulia. The Adriatic Sea the only thing separating you from what you wanted most. The intensity of the sun in that region, the homes carved from limestone, olive trees. The sound of the ocean, just like here.
“As you would never let me forget.” Byron mumbled, sitting on the edge of his coffee table beside you. You heard him rub his hands together, covering his fingertips in a balm that smelled like chamomile, marshmallow root, burdock, mug wort, and vanilla- grounded, earthy, sweet. Then, as he waited for you to continue, he pushed his fingers gently against your temple, up and down the front and back of your ear, against the nape of your neck.
“I can still see them-“ you whispered, frowning as you felt hot tears well up in your closed eyes. “The Halls, they won’t go away.”
“Why was I lost?” Byron asked softly.
“Because-“ you wheezed, surprised by yourself having the ability to cry and laugh at the same time, “-you had successfully scryed that the college existed, but you didn’t know where to go.”
“But you did.”
“I might scry well, but I never had your talent with potions.” you said, your body had began to feel heavy as Byron began to rub his fingers through your hair.
“Didn’t you get dreams, too?”
“Once we made it to Phocis, yea.”
“What of?”
“The X in the underground stone that marked the breath of the gods at Delphi…” you answered quietly. “I dreamt of King Croesus insisting that the Pythia give him council on a war, even though it wasn’t the right time to divine. The Pythia initially refused, but once the king threatened to destroy the Oracle, she went down into the caves, the very same we ended up studying in, and inhaled the gods’ breath. But the moon wasn’t where it should have been, and the gases too strong. The king found her, crazed and frantic, seeing things that were not there, before she was overcome by insanity and died.”
“… I forgot how pleasant your subconscious is.”
“Well—“ you yawned, “pleasant or not, it got us in to the college.”
“You never did explain how.”
“The dream was about timing. We needed to be there on the right moon, or we wouldn’t be welcomed.”
There was a long pause in conversation then, the ocean waves beyond the window continuing their deep, soft roar.
“I’m glad I came here.” you mumbled, tongue heavy with sleep.
Someone was holding you by your waist. Enormous, armored hands with fingers as long as your ribs, effortlessly pulling you up into what, you did not know. You could not tell if your eyes were closed, open, or if the surrounding world was black. There was only the sensation of metal closing around your sides, darkness, and echoing breath.
“Can see your-” the breath took shape into words, distant, metallic, as if spoken through a tin. And suddenly you noticed there was a deeper darkness before you, outlining the contour of a helm, the black within it limitless and gaping.
With a jolt of panic you realized this armored creature was holding you up, as if inspecting you.
“I can see-” it breathed again. You struggled to move to no avail. You felt fear unlike any you’d ever known, as you comprehended that this nightmare, this monster, had overpowered you. You could not move, you could not speak, even your capacity to understand what was happening, where you were, felt stunted, tampered with.
“Your wounds- shining beneath your armor.” it hissed, metallic tongued, your stomach turning as it lifted you higher.
“No!” you cried, desperate to rip yourself away.
“Good Godrick-” you heard Byron gasp, as your eyes opened to the view of his sunbathed sitting room. The scent of fried potatoes filled your nose as you turned to see Byron, hand over his heart, startled. “You can’t do that to me- all content and asleep one moment, shouting the next.” he wheezed, shaking a wooden spatula in your direction. “Damn near stopped my heart!”
”Sorry-” you replied, shoulders falling as you looked around his home and relief washed over you. “Was I asleep long?”
”Not three days long.” Byron smiled, hustling to bring you a cup of coffee. “Just overnight.”
“Oh.” you frowned, accepting the mug with a nod of appreciation.
“How do you feel?”
“Not… not that bad?” you answered, sounding as surprised as Byron looked. “Had another weird dream, though.”
“About the Perceforest thing?”
“I don’t know…” your frown deepened. The heat of your cup of coffee spread through your hands, warming them. It helped you feel like you could breathe. Glancing down, you noticed your coffee was in a chipped novelty mug that said “Byron’s Bed & Breakfast ~ Grieve in Peace.” You smiled as the little ocean waves illustrated along with a rendition of Byron’s home rolled in sync with the actual tide outside. You hadn’t known that he’d wanted to start an inn, or used to have one.
“So what, if not that?” Byron asked, darting back into the kitchen.
And then with a jolt you noticed you could see the cup through your fingertips. You nearly spilled the coffee as you hastily set the mug down and stared at your hands. Your eyes widened as you moved the tips of your translucent fingertips, stomach sinking. You didn’t understand what he was asking, the confusion further upsetting you. What was wrong with your hands? This had never happened before. You could feel your mind begin to race and forced yourself to stop. It was too much to think about. And it wasn’t that noticeable anyway. You couldn’t bear worrying about it right now. Besides, they didn’t hurt and they worked just fine.
“Hey?” Byron asked, reappearing with two mismatched bowls piled high with potatoes and eggs.
“Sorry- the coffee was so good I lost track of what we were talking about.” you lied, accepting the breakfast with raised eyebrows. “Wow, thank you.”
“What was weird about the dream?” Byron pressed, sitting beside you on the couch.
“There was a creature?” you started through a bite of egg. “It felt old, powerful… as if it was surprised I was there, but also like it had been waiting?”
“For what?”
“Some… one or thing… to arrive… or happen.”
“And when you say creature?”
“Big and strong… and in armor. It was so dark it was hard to see. But around it’s helm there was a crown made from Blackthorn branches.”
“Could you draw it?” Byron asked, setting down his half eaten bowl to reach for a quill and parchment.
“The armor?” you asked, accepting it.
“Yea.”
“Why?”
“Just curious. Go on.” he encouraged. Feebly, you did your best to capture the particular shapes you remembered, surprised to see just how intrigued Byron was to take the parchment from you and tuck it into his pocket. “Was there anything else?”
“It spoke to me. It said ‘I can see your wounds shining beneath your armor.’”
“Did it sound like the same sort of voice?”
You thought about it, recalling the first dream. And for you, who would reach this boundary, set foot on my threshold, to see the sun in the middle of the night, blazing with bright light, to approach me from below, from above, and worship me from nearby. You are saved from Perceforest this night. “It wasn’t dissimilar.”
“Have you run into anything or anyone else inside the Halls?”
Your stomach dropped as the light filled your memory. The odd cry of excitement as its brightness grew. “Nothing like that dream.” you answered, and then proceeded to detail everything about last night to Byron. He listened attentively, with growing concern behind his eyes despite his best attempts to show calm. After you finished, he took a long time to respond. Then, with a hard look at you, Byron slowly set down his bowl, leaned over, and pulled you into a tight embrace.
“I know it’s a lot, but you don’t have to do this.” you mumbled against his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” Byron replied low, sitting back. “I think we should let Solonie know everything.”
You fought to keep your expression neutral and receptive instead of the skeptical and defensive.
“I don’t think she’ll be upset.” Byron continued, running his fingers over his beard. “But I think she might know what could help and even if she doesn’t, there isn’t anyone with better resources to figure it out.”
“Help with what, though?” you asked, throat tight. You hid your hands beneath the wool blanket still over you. “What am I doing? Helping him? The crazy wizard who was strong enough to break free of Azkaban? You know, before he even remembered who he was he remembered Harry. He remembered needing to get to Harry.”
Byron’s frown deepened as he considered your concerns. “Solonie can give guidance on that, too. I mean, she’s been a Specularri longer than you’ve been alive. This can’t be her first instance of a morally ambiguous situation.”
“It’s just…” you started, feeling an itching agitation of just wishing you could know what you needed on your own. “You never heard of anything like this in Delphi, right? And neither have I. And if it wasn’t something to be learned there, than how does it exist? How does this whole… place exist? And why?”
“It’s not unreasonable to imagine that Dorea Black may have discovered something that the Specularris of Delphi didn’t know about.” Byron replied, shrugging gently. “They are steeped in Mediterranean traditions that go back before England was united as a country. Their focus was always on ancient wisdoms. Maybe their wealth of knowledge predates the Halls and whatever Perceforest is.”
You sat back, hugging your knees up to your chest. Everything Byron was saying made sense, but telling Solonie didn’t sit right with you. Why? Why did you feel so protective?
“We always think of magic as something still. Something cemented into history and never adapts. But what if it does? What if it evolves right along with us? And just as it shapes us, we shape it?” Byron mused, shrugging. The unease you felt only bit down harder as you considered his line of thought.
“Give me a moment.” you sighed, standing up and walking to the nearest toilet. You could hear Byron casting cleaning spells in the kitchen as you forced yourself to approach the sink. Your heart raced as you looked into your own reflection, wondering if you would hear Sirius Black’s voice calling out to you again. A pang of confusing pain shot through your nerves as you remembered how desperate he had sounded, how happy he was that he could still reach you. Growling, you rubbed your eyes, which were as irritated as ever after connecting to him, and forced yourself to look into the mirror. The Halls were still there, clear dark shapes in the periphery of the reflection, but nothing else. The sight, and the lack of him caused anger to rise in you, and shame, and betrayal. You grimaced at yourself in the mirror. Why were you upset that he wasn’t there? That was what you wanted. You didn’t want to keep helping him. You wanted him gone.
At first glance, the Ministry of Magic seemed unchanged despite all of the news. Voldemort may be back, but everyone was still coming into work, dressed in their business cloaks and talking Quidditch or whining about an inhumane deadline.You made your way, as was usual, to the Licensing Department, and just as always Pharien smiled as they saw you approach.
”Good morning!” They greeted with a touch of indulgent joy. You shot them a flat smile.
“Why do you always choose the earliest option to bring me in?” you greeted, taking the seat at the head of their desk.
“Do I?”
“Don’t play coy.” you groaned, rubbing your eyes with your gloved hands before you went to reach for all of your paperwork. The translucence to your fingertips hadn’t gone away. The Halls too, were still there every time you looked into something reflective, at this point you were just getting used to your eyes being irritated, light sensitive and dry.
“No no, I had a good reason this time.” Pharien promised, with a nod of thanks as they accepted the paperwork from you.
“This time?” you repeated, tilting your head. “So you admit you do this?”
“You see,” they started, leaning over their desk in a confidential gesture. “I have a friend that works for the Department of Mysteries. She’s an Unspeakable, right?” Pharien couldn’t help but give a victorious little smile as they saw your interest peak- Unspeakables were notoriously difficult to be familiar with, at least outright.
“How are you friends with an Unspeakable?”
“Wow, rude. I do have some very redeeming qualities.”
“Color me unconvinced. How are you friends with an Unspeakable?”
“Well, I guess whatever her job is there has something to do with your line of work, because she’s always asking about how being a Specularri works.”
“What do you tell her?”
“I told her I’d bring her a Specularri, one of the best.” Pharien waggled their eyebrows at you. “But they were busy. So you’ll have to do.”
You stood up then, looking at Pharien with a flat glare.
“Right, so we’re going! Yes! Off to the department of mysteries!”
You had never been so deep in the Ministry of Magic before. It felt like being back in the caves at Delphi- something about the human body could feel when it was being led deep beneath ground, even when it was as polished as a government office. Pharien nodded to the wix standing guard outside the office door, who regarded the two of you skeptically.
Immediately you felt self conscious, but your curiosity to see the inside of the department of mysteries overpowered your anxieties.
“Fortiger asked me to bring a specialist for something she’s working on.” Pharien explained to the guard. They nodded, waving their hand before the door that they guarded. You heard several locks releasing before the guard ushered you inside.
“Well-“ you started, looking over your shoulder to Pharien. “I expect my license to be processed first thing! And you’re welcome for all this!” You called out, before the guard closed the door on Pharien’s face.
You heard a low, silky voice say your name from the heart of the room. Turning to look, your eyes fell upon a tall, willowy woman, with platinum colored hair that shaggily fell to her shoulders. She regarded you with squinting upturned eyes, so blue they nearly looked violet in this light. The wide line of her mouth curled upwards in a grin as their eyes traced your features.
“Hello,” you started, reaching out your gloved hand towards her for a shake. “It’s a pleasure. Fortiger, right?”
“Yes.” She replied, her handshake was firm, rigid, and brief. With a bow of her head, Fortiger continued introducing herself as she led you down a corridor. “Gentian Fortiger. Thank you for accommodating this request into your schedule. I am sure you’re very busy in your capacity as a Specularri.”
“Well I never thought it would lead me to an invitation here.” you answered with a chuckle. “What is it that I can do for you, Gentian?”
She smiled, continuing to lead down a set of stairs, deeper into the earth. You felt the temperature drop with each step downward. “Working as an Unspeakable has many challenges- nuances, that can make our work seem ambiguous, even superfluous. As a Specularri, I imagine that resonates with you?”
“That attitude is often extended to divination as a whole, yea.” You pushed your arms closer to your side as the staircase finally opened up into a wide corridor. As your eyes adjusted to the torches that flared to life at your presence, you had to withhold a gasp. The walls had lost their black lacquered tiles, and were instead a much older carved stone. The corridor tapered upwards to a high ceiling, with multiple columns supporting the sweeping, medieval architecture. It looked just like it. The Halls.
Gentian exchanged a glance with you, leading you down the hallway to an ancient looking wooden door.
“It’s musty down here- old.” Gentian remarked quietly, in the same way people lower their voices while looking at great art. There was a reverence in her tone, an understanding that in this deep and old place, there was the remnant of something artful, something precious. That it only still existed through generations of great care.
With a flourish of her wand, the door groaned open, revealing a large auditorium with a raised Dias in the center. You could easily sense an ancient, sacred quality to this place, but there were also signs of a more recent disturbance; chipped stones on the floor leading down towards the center, the few items in the room were haphazardly moved to one side, as if it had been cleaned recently but not reorganized.
This time, you were not able to hide your gasp as your eyes fell to the center of the room. A black veil raised on the Dias, billowing softly in a non existent wind. Your heart skipped several beats, throbbing thickly in your chest as you heard indiscernible whispers emit from it, just like the ones you heard in the Halls.
The weight of Gentian’s eyes studying you only exacerbated the Veil’s affect on you. The hair on the back of your neck and arms rose, and as you approached the itching in your eyes became profoundly worse, causing them to water.
“This is one of the two most ancient relics of our country.” Gentian gestured to the Veil. “This, and the pensive located at Hogwarts predate Hogwarts itself- the ministry, too. They are part of an ancient magic that was the foundation of what we use today.”
Slowly, as if in a dream, you reached your hand outward, but before it could even land on the lip of the Dias, Gentian’s hand caught yours in mid air, gently squeezing it as they shook their head. “I can’t allow you to get any closer than this.”
“So, the pensive and this? What does that mean this Veil is? Do you know?”
“That is why you’re here.”
You blinked, eyes shifting between the Veil and Gentian’s smiling eyes.
“There was a… disturbance, not that long ago.”
“Oh?”
She nodded, her face paling as she glanced at the Veil as if regarding a sinister entity. “The Veil has never in recent history been recorded to do anything other than what you see now. But since that disturbance, there have been periods of heightened activity.”
“Right, okay. And you wanted a Specularri because you think it has to do with the dead?”
“The dead have not changed from my understanding, they are still dead. I do not think they are the reason the Veil has been irregularly active.”
“What does active mean? And if not the dead- why would you want someone like me?”
Gentian sighed then, running their long fingers through their hair. “Occasionally, this artifact will become more active as the black cloth changes from moving gently to full on billowing as if in a non existent storm. Additionally, the whispering that you may, or may not be able to hear becomes very audible, the voices- if we should call it that- are raised, sometimes to the point of shouting, while still remaining indiscernible.”
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“Very much so.” Gentian chuckled, clearly appreciating the lightness of your response.
You waited for Gentian to answer your second question, struggling to pull your focus away from the Veil. You wanted to touch it so badly.
“I’d like, if you’re willing, for you to try your art on the Veil itself.” Gentian said, voice softer. “I don’t mean scrying necessarily, but whatever divinatory application you think might best serve me.”
You could feel your heart beating thickly in your temple, trying to seem politely curious and professional instead of the burning, crazed fascination you truly felt. You did your best attempt at a casual nod of consideration. It was like she was just giving it to you- all the access you could want with this thing.
“Do you hear the whispers?” She asked, glancing at the Veil.
“Yes.” You said, straining to sound normal.
It was never going to feel great, you had to remind yourself, telling Solonie about Sirius Black was never going to feel convenient, or easy, or calm. You were just going to have to do it stressed and anxious.
She looked at you from across her scrying table, eyes full of patient concern. The grace of this woman, while sometimes stern, was an unending source of value to you. Not many people could say they have fair and genuinely compassionate superiors, but Solonie was. You tried to remind yourself of that while you forced yourself to look into her face, wrinkles embroidering her gentle smile with calm.
“Hi.” She started playfully, and you could hear yourself gulp. You wondered with an abstract self consciousness if she heard it. If she knew how worried you were to tell her everything. How had Byron convinced you of this?
Calling you back to return to the present moment, Solonie said your name, reaching over to gently touch her hand to yours.
“Right…” you sighed, giving her a tight smile. “So, the new moon a few months ago.” You glanced up to the ceiling as chills went through your body. It was just a conversation, but somehow it felt like you wouldn’t survive it.
“Yes?” Solonie encouraged supportively.
“Well.” you breathed, and breathed again. Even if she wasn’t going to lose patience with you, you were. A flash of self annoyance lit up within you. Stop thinking. Just talk, you thought. “I encountered an anomaly. I experienced something that I never have before, and I’ve never read about, was taught about, anything.”
”Alright.” Solonie responded, head tilting. There was a trace of concern in her eyes, and even though that was embarrassing, you supposed you couldn’t be surprised. You had never been so emotional in front of her.
“Someth-someone, found me. From inside the mirror. And they were different, too. They felt alive. Reactive. Able to interact with the scrying materials… nearly able to see me, too.”
Though Solonie’s face remained professional and stoic, her cheeks paled. You nodded, sighing again.
“I am guessing that means you’ve never experienced that before?” you asked.
“Nothing like that. Not ever.”
“So naturally, I was alarmed because it seemed like this person was trapped.”
“But where?”
You laughed, nodding gravely. “Where indeed.” you replied dryly. “I’ve managed to keep in contact, I’ve found ways to further explore this place, but I can’t understand how to get them… out.”
This admission cast you and Solonie in to a long moment of quiet. Her stoic expression flickered as she focused on the details you’d given.
”So tell me what you know of this place?”
“It’s a series of Halls. A light less place made up from cut stone- it looks medieval. It’s endless seeming. I found someone- not a Specularri, but someone who practices and they believe that this place is some kind of sacred space discovered by their teacher, the late Dorea Black.”
To this, one of Solonie’s eyebrows arched. Her expression sharpened wearily. “That so? Is that why you’ve been looking less and less yourself in the recent weeks?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, chest tightening with defensiveness.
“That you’ve been working away from this office more than ever. That you’ve managed to look sick every time I’ve seen you for the past nine weeks. What did this person tell you to do? Or give you?”
“Solonie-” you started, shaking your head.
“You can be offended. What did they give you?”
“They sell candles-” you started, voice hard. Why were you being so protective of Asterius? It was true, that candles were horrible. You would have reacted the same way if you’d seen Byron resorting to their use.
“Well what is in them?”
You blinked, and that reaction seemed all Solonie needed to condemn it. She groaned your name. “If you’re going to experiment with fringe practices, you need to be aware of what you’re using.”
You opened your mouth to retaliate to whatever criticism she might say, refute whatever harsh words may come, and blinked as you registered that she wasn’t severe at all. In fact, she was being very reasonable.
“So you’re not…” you started, “reporting me? Or, restricting my clients or I don’t know… punishing me?”
Solonie blinked back at you, her own flatness dwarfing your own sardonic sensibilities. “I’d sooner seek to punish whoever put that poor person wherever he is. But we do need to come up with a structure for you. It’s necessary that we help, but it is unwise to go into something so mysterious without fail safes. Now-” she turned to look at a moon calendar and ran her finger along until it rested against the next new moon. “The first thing you need to do is go back to wherever you got those candles and make sure you know whats in them. Then you can tell Byron and I, and we will look into the potion structure and see what are it’s risks, what makes it work, or fail. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is something we can alter that lowers it’s side effects. Or something we can make or use before and after hand to aid you.”
“Wait.” you started, eyes widening. “You’re not… I mean, you’re going to help? Me? You’re going to help me do this? Help him?”
“Of course.” Solonie replied, her eyes hard, as if it was insulting to assume otherwise. You felt tears rise in your eyes, a rush of pressure into your head. “What?” she exclaimed, only looking more offended.
“Sorry-” you tried to compose yourself, “I just didn’t think-”
“Yes. Not usually a problem with you. But I suppose we all have our moments.” Settling into her chair, she continued. “The next new moon is in October, will that give you enough time to source the materials of these candles?”
You started to say yes, but before you could say anything more, a soft knock sounded against her door. Aurelia apologized as she pushed in, eyes flickering nervously between the two of you.
“Yes?” Solonie asked. You were surprised when Aurelia’s focus shifted to you.
“Sorry,” she started, “There is someone in your office. Demanding to see you.”
“Oh-” you started, standing up slowly and glancing back towards Solonie for dismissal.
“I think we have a good start, go on.” she said, nodding.
As you walked down the hall towards your office, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of victory and dread. Byron had been right, Solonie was willing to help. Never would you have imagined that the conversation would have gone the way it had. Pushing into your office, you shook your head. What now? You hadn’t had the chance, or made your mind up, about telling Solonie who it was you had been trying to save. You hadn’t even made your mind up if you were going to continue to try and help Sirius. But- you thought with a grimace, how could you not?
As your office door closed behind you, you gasped sharply as your eyes landed on Remus Lupin, sitting at your table with a cadaverous pallor.
“I’ve been looking for you, everywhere. Both of us, Tonks and I.” he sighed in relief and stood up. Your eyes traced his path, breath turning shallow as you looked up into his face, your hand slowly reaching for your wand. His glance darted towards your hand and he shook his head.
“No. No, no-” he said low, holding one hand up in a gesture of surrender as the other withdrew his wand from his robes and placed it on your table. “I came here to apologize. For scaring you, for how everything happened.”
You snarled, your skin suddenly hot with a mix of embarrassment, anger, disappointment. “How what happened?” you seethed, teeth tight. “How you made a fool of Byron and I? How you tricked us into thinking that your Order was for something good? I ought to expose it all right now. I ought to march up to the Auror’s office, find whatever officer Alastor hates the most, and tell them the address of that horrible place-”
Remus’ eyes suddenly brightened, widening with vulnerability and alarm. You could see the pain in his expression deepen with your words, a frantic and desperate line to his mouth. His other hand drew upwards, until this tall, sullen soldier of a wizard was all but bowed before you, listening to you with increasing fear in his eyes. It satisfied you, it made you feel like there was still some part of your life that was not larger than yourself.
“Please.” he asked, his tone wavered. “Please allow me to show you just one, one thing- and then I will leave you alone. I just want you to understand one thing.”
The satisfaction you felt was immediately tempered by a sting of guilt as you watched how quickly this man came to begging. It scared you, the extremeness of your own emotions, of his- this entire situation. You shook your head lightly, trying to recenter yourself, trying to ground yourself.
“What is it.” you asked, voice hard and guarded.
Slowly reaching into a pocket of his robes, Remus pulled out a very wrinkled copy of The Daily Prophet. You blinked, having expected something stranger, wilder, not something as mundane as the paper. Your eyes traced the front as you recognized the issue. *June 18th, 1996 HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS*.
“Everyone saw this.” Remus gestured to the headline, before his fingers slipped to the inside pages, there was a well thumbed corner you noticed, he hardly had to glance as he turned the page. “But not…” he started, his bottom lip trembling slightly.
Sirius Black: The Truth Emerges
Long regarded as a dangerous fugitive, Sirius Black lost his life last night in the Department of Mysteries. Recent revelations confirm that Black was not responsible for the deaths of James and Lily Potter and was never a dark wizard. Instead, he fought against He Who Must Not Be Named’s followers, sacrificing himself in the struggle against the Dark Lord's return. Black has been granted pardon posthumously by the Minister of Magic for all accusations made against him.
You were unable to focus on the words. Each letter a strange symbol- chaos, unreal. You had been holding your breath and shaking your head long before you realized you were. Before you realized that you were still in your office with Remus Lupin. Before you were able to finally register that he was innocent. Sirius Black was innocent.
Unable to find words, you looked back up into Remus Lupin’s face and found it wet with tears. He was trying to stop himself from crying, his shoulders jerking slightly with the effort. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to only make it harder for him.
“The last time I saw you,” he started, “And I heard you say ‘Padfoot’, I-” he made a sound between a sigh and a sob, trying to clear his throat as he wiped his hand down his face. “I didn’t, I couldn’t control my emotions. I didn’t think of what it would seem like to you, and for that I will- I’ll regret that my life over.”
Remus took a step towards you, that same pleading expression on his face. “You may never trust me again, and wish to never set foot in another Order meeting. I would understand. I would never again trouble you. I would erase any mark myself or the Order left on your life. But-” his voice wavered. Remus came closer, eyes red and bright with hot tears. “If there is anything I can do so that you will help him, even if that means accomplishing such without ever reminding you of my existence again, I would… I would move mountains. Reorder the stars. Nothing you asked of me would be too great a cost. You would never hear any form of refusal. I would offer my life.”
A shiver ran through you, and you jumped as you felt a tear drop from your lash and hit your own cheek. The air surrounding you pressed close, bent, magnifying Remus’ anguish. But before you could think of what to say, the door to your office slammed open from behind you.
With a yip of terror, you pivoted, Remus was just as shocked as Byron pushed into the room.
“YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE, LUPIN!” Byron roared, one of his huge arms coiling around you and pulling you closer to him, as his other hand pointed his wand at Remus’ chest. “YOU DIDN’T THINK I WAS WATCHING? THAT I WOULDN’T BE HERE?”
”Byron-” you gasped, choking on your breath.
Remus looked into Byron’s yelling face with eyes as big as saucers. Hands raised into the air, he quickly resumed his gesture of compliance. “I-”
“WHAT?” Byron growled, as you tried to gently disentangle yourself from him. “YOU WHAT? YOU’RE SORRY? YOU THINK THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH? YOU THINK THAT WE-”
“BYRON!” you shouted, struggling to speak over him. You placed both of your gloved hands over his wand arm, lowering it. He jumped, looking between you and Remus with brows bent into a knot of confusion. “You’ve missed a very convincing apology and redemption.”
Leaning over, you grabbed the copy of the Prophet off of the table and showed Byron the small passage about Sirius. As he read, you watched as the furious twist of Byron’s expressions slowly undid themselves.
“Oh.” he said, cheeks reddening as he tucked his wand away.
“That’s more than I managed to say.” you shrugged, glancing at Remus. “Are you alright?”
Remus, white faced, didn’t look like he entirely knew how to respond to you and gave something between a shrug and a thumbs up.
“Right, so…” you sighed, glancing from Byron and then back to Remus. You turned towards him, face set. “You were telling me that you would do anything I needed. To get him back.”
“Anything.” Remus said.
Your mind was blaring with too many thoughts, from exhaustion. You felt Byron’s large hand move to rest on your shoulder and took a large breath. “The candles…” you thought aloud.
“Yes?” Remus said, perking up.
“I need- he works at The Coffin House. His name is Asterius. I need you to bring him-”
“Not here.” Byron interjected softly. “Being Ministry run and all.”
“Right. I need you to bring him to my flat. Yea… bring him to my flat.”
Sirius, you thought as a lash of pain tore through your chest. I’m sorry. I’m coming back.
“Asterius… Darnant?” Remus asked, frowning softly.
“You know him?” Byron asked.
“Vaguely. He was mates with Regulus Black, Sirius’ little brother… I’d see them at school.” Remus raised his eyebrows, as if appraising some passing thought. “He isn’t the most straightforward person. He might not be happy to… comply.”
“He has what I need to do this and understand it more.” you added, a new determination in your tone.
“Then he will come to your flat.” Remus answered, picking his wand back up from the table.
You felt your heart lurch. “Remus-” you started, taking a step towards him. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for how everything has gone. For what you’ve lost.”
“What I’ve lost?” Remus repeated, giving you a soft smile. He looked exhausted. Remus shook his head. “Not many get the privilege to say they’ve found it again.”