Chapter Text
Traveling to Fawkesfiled was much easier said than done. It was such a small hamlet that Sirius was unable to find any information about it in any of the magical travel guides, and was therefore unable to determine if they had a public fireplace for use in the Floo Network. Apparation, the magical teleportation method, was also out of the question. It required detailed knowledge of the destination, which in this case was a place where neither Harry nor Sirius had ever been. So, they decided to fly.
Harry and Sirius caught a train and rode it as close to their destination as they could get, then headed into the nearby forest. They needed to get to a more secluded area before taking out their brooms, to avoid being caught by any muggles. As they walked away from any potential witnesses, they talked about their plan.
“I think it would be unwise to reveal our true identities and intentions,” Sirius said. Harry thought this was a nice way of saying that if the wrong people found out that they were interested in Marcellus the Magnificent, they could be in serious danger. “So, I took the liberty of creating characters for us.”
Harry was reminded of when he was younger and would play games where he would imagine himself as a hero going on grand adventures. Sirius would always play along by creating dramatic roles for himself with in-depth backstories and personalities. Who could ever forget Beardy Goldhat the Pirate King, the respected leader of the pirates who had melted down his treasure to create a shiny, but heavy, captain’s hat for himself, and who still walked with a limp after a long battle with a shark had left him permanently scarred?
“Tell me what you’ve got.”
“Okay, I am Salvatore Bandoni, an Italian historian traveling the world in pursuit of knowledge of the great witches and wizards of the past, hoping to preserve their stories before they are forever lost to time.” Sirius put on his best Italian accent as he said this. “And you are my son, Amerigo Bandoni. You travel the world with me. I homeschool you in hopes that you will learn more through seeing the world than you would in a classroom. We have come to Fawkesfield to research the home life of Marcellus the Magnificent.”
“What if Amerigo Bandoni can’t do an Italian accent?” Harry asked in an incredibly unconvincing Italian accent.
“Well, Amerigo Bandoni doesn’t have an Italian accent because I moved us both to London when Amerigo was very young, where I studied historical journalism under my mentor, the late great Milford Nightingale.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Nightingale. May he rest in peace.”
At this point they were far enough away from any other humans that they could pull out their brooms without being seen. Sirius opened the backpack he was wearing, which had been charmed with a spell that magically increased a bag’s carrying capacity. He handed Harry his broom before pulling out his own. Most kids Harry’s age were still riding as passengers on their parents’ brooms whenever the need to travel by broomstick arose, but Harry had been riding a real broomstick by himself since 2 years prior. He’d ridden kids’ brooms before that, ones that stayed pretty close to the ground and couldn’t move very fast, but he had clearly mastered basic broom riding technique and Sirius thought he was ready for the real thing.
They mounted their brooms and prepared for takeoff.
“Ready, Amerigo?”
“Ready, Dad.”
It came out of Harry’s mouth before he even had time to think about what he was saying. That was the first time that he had ever called Sirius ‘Dad.’ Sirius was his parent, he’d always felt secure in the fact that their relationship was parent/child, but he had only ever referred to his adoptive parent by his name. ‘Dad’ had always been reserved for his biological father, and Harry didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he had just crossed that boundary, much less about how Sirius might have felt about it.
For Sirius’s part, he did seem to break character for a second, his face softening to a much more subtle expression than he would ever wear on the stage, but he was smiling. He didn’t say anything, just placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before pushing off from the ground and shooting up into the sky. Harry quickly followed, and then the two of them were off.
One of the reasons why Harry was such a good flyer for his age was that he had a natural talent for it, but the main reason was that he loved it. The feeling of weightlessness while floating on air, his feet dangling below him and the wind blowing through his hair never got old, and likely never would.
He and Sirius had pushed up off the ground and soared upward until they were even higher than the trees, the way ahead clear. They flew through the air on their broomsticks, taking the time to enjoy themselves. This was the only thing they had to do that day, after all, and it had been too long since they’d been flying together. Harry rose up higher and then pointed the end of his broom sharply downward, hurdling toward the trees at a 110 degree angle before pulling up and straightening out, so close to the treetops that his foot brushed against one of the leaves.
“Excellent dive, Harry!” Sirius called out. “How’s your roll coming along?”
The roll was a trick that Harry had been working on over the Summer. It was a bit more advanced than any of the moves he’d attempted before, as there were moments when he would be hanging to his broomstick upside down. He took a deep breath to help himself concentrate, then he attempted the trick. He angled his body so that he was laying across the broom on his stomach, his feet wrapping securely around the bottom of the handle and his hands tightening their grip. Then he increased his speed, tucked in his head, and shifted his weight into the roll. He rotated three whole times before losing the momentum, his current record.
Sirius applauded. “Well done! I don’t even think your father could have pulled off a triple roll at your age!”
Harry beamed, hoping he was making his father proud. With any luck, maybe by the end of the day they would be closer to learning who had killed him, along with his mother, and why. They deserved to have the truth come to light.
“Race you!” Harry exclaimed, suddenly very eager to reach Fawkesfield to see what they could learn. Sirius obliged, increasing his speed, and Harry did the same. Just a few minutes later, they touched down outside the small hamlet of Fawkesfield.
It truly was a small little town, with only a handful of houses scattered about with large gardens in between. An old stone well sat in the center, and there was a barn where the locals could keep farm animals. Located in the middle of a vast forest, it was one of the few remaining exclusively magical communities in Scotland.
As Harry and Sirius approached, a man came out to meet them at the gate that acted as the town’s entrance. He seemed older than Sirius by maybe a decade and was wearing long light gray robes with red and gold embroidery going down the middle and around the bottom hem and the ends of the sleeves. “I thought I saw someone flying our way,” the man said. “Welcome to Fawkesfield. How can I help you gentlemen?”
“Ciao!” Sirius said with a bow, slipping back into his Italian accent. “This is just the place we were looking for. I’m Salvatore Bandoni, and this is my son, Amerigo. I’m a historian with a mission to preserve the stories of the great witches and wizards of our past, and am currently researching the life of Marcellus the Magnificent, one of the greatest heroes of his time! Are you familiar with him by any chance?”
The man’s face had perked up at the mention of Marcellus and he was now sporting a large grin. “You’re here about Marcellus the Magnificent! Wonderful, wonderful! Yes, of course, I’m sure you know that he used to live right here in this very hamlet where you now stand.”
“Precisely why we’re here!” said Sirius, matching the man’s excited energy. Harry sighed in relief after hearing that Fawkesfield’s residents were at least familiar with their town’s namesake. “What can you tell us about him?”
“I’ll do you one better, friend! Fawkesfield is home to the official Museum of Marcellus the Magnificent, the world’s largest collection of Marcellus the Magnificent knowledge and memorabilia. Located in Marcellus the Magnificent’s own childhood home, you too can learn all about one of wizard kind’s greatest heroes while walking in his very footsteps. Immersive and educational fun for the whole family.”
Sirius paused for a beat, taking in the sudden travel advertisement before saying, “Meraviglioso! Lead on, signore.”
The man led them through the town, pointing out special points of interest as they went. “See that tree over there? Marcellus may have enjoyed the shade provided by its very branches. Perhaps he read a book, or had a lovely picnic?” Harry and Sirius politely glanced at the tree as they passed. “Ah, here’s Lenora. Lenora! We have visitors here to learn about Marcellus the Magnificent. Tell them about your fence post.”
Lenora, who had been tending to her vegetables, looked up at them excitedly. “Oh yes, on one of the fence posts around my garden! There’s an ‘M’ carved right into it, come and have a look.” Harry and Sirius came and did just that. Sure enough, Marcellus the Magnificent’s first initial had been faintly carved into the wood. “Who knows? It could be that the initial was carved here by Marcellus the Magnificent himself while helping his neighbors in the garden!” Harry thought it was highly unlikely that this fence had stood since Marcellus’s time and had almost certainly been replaced multiple times since then, but was polite enough not to say so.
After being shown a couple more things around town that Marcellus may have potentially come in contact with, they arrived in front of one of the houses. A wooden sign nailed to the house beside the door labeled it as the Marcellus the Magnificent Museum. Their tour guide went ahead of them and opened the door. “Winifred! I have a couple museum patrons for you,” he said.
Harry followed Sirius into the museum and found himself in a room that was likely used as a living room at one point, but was now full of objects in glass cases with plaques on them. Marcellus’s old house was obviously quite old, but it looked like it had been maintained well. The windows were large enough to let in a good amount of natural light, but there was still plenty of wall space for all of the framed pictures and documents that now hung around the place. As they entered, a woman, who Harry presumed must be Winifred, entered from another room. Her red hair was cut short and was very curly, and she wore brown robes with a rose print.
“Well, hello, hello! I knew those advertisements I put in the paper would attract visitors. I told you, Dexter, did I not?” said Winifred.
“You did indeed,” said the man, who was apparently named Dexter. “I’ll leave you all to it, shall I?” Dexter winked and then made his exit.
“Well, come in! Welcome. Who do we have here?”
“Salvatore Bandoni at your service. May I present my son?”
“I’m Amerigo, pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I’ve been positively itching to get more hungry minds through the door, ready to broaden their knowledge beyond what they see fit to teach in a history classroom.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Sirius said as he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I always thought that travel and experience is the best teacher.”
“Absolutely! So tell me how I can help you gentlemen today?”
“How much for admission for 2?” Sirius asked.
“Admission is free, but I do offer a guided tour for a sickle a piece, for the hungriest minds who want the full scoop,” Winifred said in a grandiose voice that made it clear that she was passionate about her job.
“Well, we certainly didn’t come all the way out here for an incomplete scoop! Two for the guided tour, please.” Sirius dug 2 silver coins, sickles, as they were called, out of his pocket and dropped them into Winifred's outstretched palm with a light clink.
“Very good. Right this way, please,” Winifred said as she led them over to the first exhibit. Harry glanced into the glass case to see a pointed wizard’s hat that had likely once been a rich black color but had since faded quite a bit, and there were small tears visible in the fabric. It was an old style as well, like something Sirius might wear as a costume piece in one of his plays.
Sirius took a notebook and pencil out of his backpack and flipped to a blank page. “Mind if I take notes? I’m a historian, you see, traveling the world in hopes of learning the stories of the lesser-documented, but no less great, witches and wizards of our past.”
“A noble cause indeed! Please take notes, and ask as many questions as you like. Now, this hat was found in a trunk in the attic of an old house in Glasgow, the town where Marcellus’s mother had grown up. Considering the age, it is entirely possible that it belonged to one of his relatives who lived in the city during his lifetime. He made many trips to Glasgow during his childhood to visit with family and likely also to stock up on books. Marcellus was an avid reader and scholar, even as a young boy.”
And so it went. Harry and Sirius were shown various objects that might loosely have some unconfirmed connection to Marcellus the Magnificent, including an old horseshoe from out in the town’s shared barn that may have been worn by his horse, Georgie, and a framed painting, faded with age, that Winifred swore had to depict the view from the museum’s back window, though Harry wasn’t sure how anyone could be sure it was specifically the forest behind the house and not just any other forest located anywhere.
“Now this is the special interactive part of the tour,” Winifred said mysteriously as they gathered around a wooden box with a hole in the top. “What do you say, young Amerigo? Feeling brave? I think you are! Go ahead and reach into the box, imagining as you do so that you are reaching into the past!”
Harry looked to Sirius for support, only to see him standing there looking amused. “Go ahead, son. Let us know what the past feels like.” Harry smiled at that, noting that this was probably the first time anyone had called him ‘son’ and also that he liked it. In fact, he was so distracted by this that he forgot to be horrified about the prospect of reaching into a box of unknown contents until his fingers brushed against the substances within.
It felt cool and powdery, but it stuck together in clumps and might have even been slightly damp. Daring to feel around just a little, Harry discovered that there also seemed to be little rocks mixed in here and there. “Is this… dirt?” he asked, the confusion showing on his face. He pulled his hand out of the box and looked at it to see that his fingers did, in fact, have specks of dirt clinging to them.
“Bingo!” Winifred exclaimed loudly, making Harry jump. “I knew you seemed like a bright kid, Amerigo, and as usual I was exactly right. But it’s not just any dirt, of course. This dirt was taken from in front of the very rock that Marcellus the Magnificent and Fawkes the phoenix used to seal away the dark witch Primrose Bitterwood. The dirt clinging to your very fingers at this moment could very well have been directly under Marcellus’s feet as he and his brave bird companion joined magical forces to create one of the strongest sealing spells ever known to man.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “You know where Primrose Bitterwood was sealed away?”
“I thought that might get your attention,” Winifred said with a laugh. “But I’m afraid I don’t. The location is a closely guarded secret, in hopes that those that wish to free the evil witch will be unable to find her.”
“You think she’s still there? And there are people trying to free her?” Harry shuddered at the thought.
“Oh yes, young man. She vowed to return, and I believe she intends to do just that. And there are many people in this world who thirst for power, and believe that if they freed her, she would use her great power to help them achieve all that they desire.” Harry’s heart sank.
“Where did the dirt come from, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Sirius.
“Anonymous donor.”
“Ahh.”
The tour was wrapping up, with just one glass case remaining. It contained a book, but it was impossible to see the title as any lettering had long-since faded from its leather-bound cover. The pages had yellowed and it looked like it was falling apart at the spine.
“This piece may just be the crowning jewel of our collection here, as it is most easily traced directly back to Marcellus the Magnificent himself,” Winifred said proudly. It seemed to Harry that she should be able to say this about more than one item in the Marcellus the Magnificent Museum, but was intrigued nonetheless. “It’s a Transfiguration textbook that was only in use at Hogwarts during the time when he was a professor there.”
“He taught at Hogwarts?” Harry asked. This was the first mention he’d heard of this, which honestly made it all the more sad that so little information about him seemed to exist in the school’s library.
“Yes indeed, after their infamous defeat of evil sorceress Primrose Bitterwood, Marcellus and Fawkes were looking to settle down and live a quieter life for a time. They ended up back in the castle where they first met when Marcellus was a student, but he was now returning as the new Transfiguration professor. He was very popular among students, as was Fawkes, of course. The school even honored him by having a portrait painted of him to hang in the hallowed halls. I have considered writing to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster there, and asking if he will send us the painting to add to the collection, but I just don’t have the heart to ask such a thing. I’m sure he’d hate to part with it, and Marcellus deserves to be admired by the students there for generations to come.”
At the end of the tour, Harry and Sirius thanked Winifred for her time and said good-bye to Fawkesfield. The return trip was much easier than their journey to get to the hamlet, as they’d been allowed to use the fireplace in Marcellus’s old home to travel via the Floo Network. Back in the Black family home, they sat at the kitchen table to discuss what they’d learned.
“Well, I think we’ve got a motive, kiddo,” Sirius said. “Based on what we heard back there, it seems likely that your parents’ killer was after Fawkes, as we had feared. Maybe they thought Fawkes could lead them to where this Primrose Bitterwood is imprisoned, or that they need his help to get her out because he helped trap her in there. Either way, it seems that they were hoping to free her. How are you feeling about everything?”
Harry took a deep breath before answering. “I think right now I feel more relief than anything,” he said, surprised that he felt that way but feeling relief nonetheless. “I guess… I want to know why someone killed my parents. I think they deserve for someone to know what happened to them. I’m relieved to finally have some answers.”
Sirius smiled and nodded. “I think that’s very noble, Harry. Very noble indeed. Your parents would be very proud. Your mother in particular I recall having a thirst for knowledge, a desire to find answers.”
Harry smiled, imagining his parents looking down on him from wherever they were, knowing they were closer to having their story told.