"When we have shuffled off this mortal coil"

When he woke, it took only a minute to race to his younger brother's room.

His pulse racing, he paused in front of the door to compose himself. It slowly swung open at the slightest touch of his fingers.

Regulus was sleeping on the bed. It was obvious in a second that something was wrong: he was completely pale, sweat from a fever covering his forehead. Sirius's gut clenched as Regulus moaned in obvious pain.

He was so preoccupied with Regulus that he only realized he wasn't alone in the room when Bellatrix rose from a chair on the side of the bed.

"Sirius." Her voice was a dull knife. Numbly, Sirius saw the overwhelming grief in her eyes. "You're awake." Having made this observation, she sat back down to gently pat Regulus' head with a wet towel.

"This is my fault." Sirius was cold in his assessment. "I should be the one dying."

Bellatrix didn't correct him.

The door swept open softly behind Sirius; he didn't even have to look to know that his mother, her distinctive footsteps muffled, had come into the room. He looked at Bellatrix with questioning eyes, but she quickly left the room, gaze lowered, at Walburga's unspoken command.

Sirius' mother glided over to her youngest son's side and took up the wet towel Bellatrix had left. "Go see your father, Sirius." She didn't even look at him. "There's nothing you can do in here."

He didn't obey, didn't listen – he couldn't accept that. Never.

"There has to be something. Anything…" Sirius was standing by Regulus now, and dropped to his knees as if praying to his mother. "Please…"

"... What happened, Sirius?"

The story came out slowly, then quickly; Sirius held nothing back. He had no wish to avoid blame – no one could have made him feel more guilty than he already felt at that moment.

But at the end, strangely, he found himself with his head in his mother's lap, her fingers slowly carding his hair, like they used to do when Sirius was a boy. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "I knew he was going to find you – I should have stopped him." Her voice trailed off as Sirius felt her lift his hand up. "The ring fits you." She seemed to be surprised.

Silence filled the room for a few moments, and then Sirius felt the change.

"Enough." She lifted his head up, and rose from her chair and walked swiftly over to one of the drawers in the room. The dagger she brought back was unmistakable to Sirius: he'd only seen it for a second, but the carved, morbid design on the hilt was unforgettable. "The dagger we took out of your brother was poisoned. But you saved him by coming straight back – the poison was designed to be released when the dagger was removed from the skin. Your father was able to stabilize him before we took it out and that bought us a little more time to save him." said his mother. "Unfortunately, we cannot take him to St. Mungo's – they'd be useless even if they didn't Floo the Light Side and tell them immediately that Regulus was lying there so that they could finish the job – and no one in the family has experience in this particular branch of poisons. However-"

"Aunt Walburga? I need to tell Sirius something." Bellatrix's voice startled his mother, but she recovered quickly.

"No. Not that."

Sirius glanced at his cousin. Her hair was wilder than normal; she looked like she hadn't slept in days. "Please. It would save Regulus –"

"Bella, what is it?" Sirius interrupted before his mother could send her away again.

Bellatrix looked at Walburga fearfully, but her voice held steady. "You need to take a look at his arm."

Inside, he knew what was coming. It was the same story for many of the Slytherins around his age – even for some of the Ravenclaws – and though no one ever talked about it (at least as far as he knew), everyone knew what was happening. He'd never been approached, probably due to his… unique situation, but he knew Bellatrix and Lucius had.

But it was still a surprise to see the Dark Mark, in all of its terrible glory, on his brother's pale skin.

"He hasn't even graduated though…" Sirius let out in a whisper.

"He was old enough to make his decision," said Walburga firmly. "And it was his life to give."

He let his brother's arm sink back into the sheets and looked at his cousin. "But what does this have to do with anything?"

"The Dark Lord is experienced with these things. If anyone will know how to combat this poison, he will."

"No." His mother's voice had never been more furious. "I have already lost one son, Bellatrix. I will not lose another. I forbid this."

"Aunt Walburga, we've combed through the entire library. Our entire family has searched up and down. There is no record of this poison that we know of. We don't have the time to keep looking." She turned to Sirius with pleading eyes . "Sirius, this might be your brother's only chance of survival-"

"Then why not you! Why Sirius? We can't lose another Black -"

"He won't see me, he won't see any of us –"

They kept going back and forth, but Sirius turned back to Regulus. Softly, he swept some of Regulus' hair out of his eyes and looked at his younger brother sadly.

There was no decision to make.

"Stop." The two women turned to him in surprise.

Sirius went over to his mother and hugged her. "This is my choice, Mother." He knew Bellatrix wouldn't be able to hear his whisper.

He stepped back and, turning to Bellatrix, nodded at her. "Thank you for letting me know." Sirius left the room in silence, sure of his purpose for the first time.

Sirius found his father in the family library. Orion looked up from the book he had open, shut it softly, and put it to the side. Neither spoke for several moments.

"You've seen Regulus?" said his father at last.

Sirius nodded. "I want to see the Dark Lord."

Orion looked at him gravely. "You are aware this is not something to be taken lightly."

"I know. But we don't have any time left."

"I have a Healer coming from Italy."

"You know as well as I do he won't be able to do anything." He pleaded with his eyes. "I want to do this, father."

His father looked away. "I will arrange a meeting for today," he said. "I trust you to know what is expected of you in front of the Dark Lord."

Lily walked through her room aimlessly. Well, not quite aimlessly – she was supposed to be cleaning, but it was just so hard when she kept running into all these memories. As she walked by her dresser, she paused to picked up a picture frame. Her mouth widened into a small smile.

The picture had been taken when she was barely ten. It was the day of Petunia's birthday – one of the last before Lily had received her letter and her whole world had changed – and showed a beaming Mrs. Evans hugging her two daughters, both laughing wildly as they struggled to run out of her arms.

So much had changed since that day, she thought mournfully. I went to Hogwarts… and Petunia didn't. Mom stopped smiling. Dad stopped coming home early when I came home.

But it didn't matter. She was moving out. She had graduated. Life wasn't perfect, she thought as she shoved the last of her clothes resolutely into the waiting bag. Though plenty of the girls in Gryffindor thought it was... let them have him then.

There was never really an easy way to break up with someone. And she did care for James – somewhat. A little. When he wasn't being a total ass, he was a good person. His parents were too.

She looked at the photo again.

What would he have thought of her parents? Would they have – no. A slight pang in her heart. This was for the best. It is for the best. The job in Egypt – it'd get her out of the country for a few years. Give her some space. And maybe she'd be able to seek her Mastery elsewhere. James is – I do care. But not enough. It'd been so easy – to easy – picturing her life in Egypt. And her friends were so excited for her, even if she wouldn't see them. They understood. The Dark Lord wanted her, for some reason – she'd heard of his recruiting methods in school, but... maybe he'd back off. Maybe he wouldn't kill her, or have the chance to. It'd been two times now that he'd approached her and... well, no one said anything about the third. They didn't have to. Or couldn't.

"Lily?" Her mom's voice broke through her thoughts. "There's someone here for you…" Her footsteps echoed as she walked up the stairs.

Lily put down the picture softly. "Mom, I'd actually love to talk to you about something-"

"That's nice, dear." If Lily had turned, she would have seen the vacant, airy look in her mother's eyes. "But you need to talk to him."

"Okay, mom, but after that let's talk," she said, still staring at the picture.

"Hello, Miss Evans." Her head snapped up; she didn't know the voice, but it screamed danger—

She hit the floor before she even realized it.

The Dark Lord's secret headquarters were not, surprisingly, that difficult to find.

The stately manor house rose slowly out of the darkness before Sirius' eyes. He'd been instructed by his father to Apparate nearly a mile away and had found himself in an abandoned town – if it could even be called that. In truth, it might had once been a town, but was now groups of one or two buildings scattered here and there, all falling down in shambles. Sirius had seen some sort of Muggle contraption in the midst of it all; it looked like they were pulling down the remaining shells of buildings.

It was dirty and stank of Muggles, of gas and metal and smoke.

It was not the sort of place one would expect to find the – any – Dark Lord.

To be fair, the house was actually quite far from the town – Sirius had even passed another town on the way – enough so, that had someone been tracking Sirius' Apparations, they would not have been able to pinpoint where he was headed. He himself was careful not to cast magic while walking. Had Orion not told him about the nearly unnoticeable pattern of dying trees that marked the way, Sirius would have been lost completely.

Unlike 12 Grimmauld Place, the house was not under the Fidelus Charm. That didn't surprise him: his family's country house, along with many of the older wizarding homes, weren't placed under the charm either. Once one knew what to look for, after all, it was easy to find such protected houses. It was much less noticeable to not have a house under the Fidelus.

The delicately carved gates swung open silently as he approached. It took a mere minute to reach the doors; the gravel crunched loudly under Sirius' boots as he walked up the driveway. Dark, looming hedges seemed to reach over him, and Sirius was a little relieved when he finally reached the entranceway.

This wasn't exactly a social call, after all.

Before he had a chance to knock, the door was opened for him.

"Hello," said an impeccably dressed man in what Sirius knew to be Muggle clothes. "You must be Master Black. If you'll follow me, I will show you where you can wait."

Sirius nodded once, trying to hide his confusion. What was a Muggle butler doing in the Dark Lord's house?

He led Sirius up the grand entranceway staircase into a smaller room. That small room lead to several other small rooms; as he followed the man through, Sirius noticed they were not decorated merely with formal portraits, like many Pureblood houses, but rather several portraits – most did not seem to even be related – and larger paintings of landscapes and mythological subjects. The rooms themselves were tastefully done in different colors, though greens and silvers were a recurring theme throughout all.

Finally, they arrived in a large library. The man gave a small bow to Sirius and held the door open in welcome, but as soon as he walked in, the door shut firmly behind him. Sirius wasn't foolish enough to try it – he knew the door had been locked behind him.

The room he found himself had obviously not been touched for quite some time. There was no dust, but the books and tomes on the ornate, dark wood bookcases seemed to be at least one or two centuries old. Gilt that had once covered the edges of the bookcases was now peeling slowly off. Though the curtains had been pulled back on the two large, floor-to-ceiling windows, it had only gotten darker since Sirius had arrived. The light from candles lit throughout the room seemed to dance across the floor, but did nothing to lessen the darkness.

It was empty.

It felt like several minutes before Sirius dared to even move. Curiosity finally got to him though, and he walked forward slowly towards the center of the room towards the fireplace. But one of the older tomes caught his eye, and before he knew it, he found himself in front of the bookcase, hand outstretched, about to slide the tome out its place.

"How curious you chose that one."

Sirius nearly fell back. Wildly, he turned around, trying to find the voice; if he hadn't spoken again, Sirius would have thought he imagined it.

"It's one of the older tomes in the library, actually," said Lord Voldemort, stepping out of a darkness of a doorway Sirius hadn't noticed before. "Perhaps I'll even let you... my beloved godson... read it sometime." His tone was bored, but the warning was clear.

Dark, full hair fell lazily over the classically handsome face. He was tall – taller than Sirius, but not so tall that one would have to look too much up. Taller than Sirius had remembered. He hadn't aged a day in the years that had passed.

Just as before, though, it was Voldemort's aura, though, that caught Sirius' attention the most.

It was easily the most powerful he'd ever felt, even more powerful than Dumbledore's, and no one could have ever confused what magical affinity the Dark Lord had. The Dark Magic radiated from him, even reaching where Sirius stood. He projected power with every movement, and Sirius desired nothing more right then than to kneel before him. His own magic reached out for it, seeking it out in awe of its strength – and against Sirius' will.

He knew it was a test. It took every fiber of his body to resist, and as the seconds wore by, Sirius felt his body begin to shake with exertion. But somehow, somehow he held still, face blank, with only his eyes betraying how much he fought.

Finally, Sirius saw a slight smirk appear on the Dark Lord's face, and the pressure lifted. He nearly fell when it did, but thankfully only stumbled backwards, the bookcase behind him stopping him from embarrassing himself further.

"Please, sit." said the Dark Lord smoothly, pointedly choosing to ignore what had happened mere seconds before. Despite the wording, it was not a request.

Sirius walked forward hesitatingly to sit in one of the armchairs that were settled comfortably in front of the fireplace. As soon as he had sat down, the doors behind him opened with an ever so slight creak, and the butler that had ushered him through before walked into Sirius' view with two glasses of wine on a silver plate. He bowed and offered a glass first to Sirius, and then to the Dark Lord.

"Thank you, Michael." The butler bowed silently in acknowledgement, and then left.

Before he could stop himself, the words were already out of Sirius' mouth. "Why do you have a Muggle in your house?"

Lord Voldemort tilted his head to the side slightly. "All my followers wonder that, though they're not brave enough to tell me to my face that they think I'm crazy," Lord Voldemort said finally. "But I'll tell you why. It's so that when Dumbledore – or any of the Light Forces – they see the Muggle, and without even questioning him, move on. They can't sense a house elf here, after all, and I can hide my magic easily. So for all they know, only Muggles life here – and after all, what sort of Dark Lord use Muggles?" He smiled coldly, but with a trace of amusement.

"That's… actually quite brilliant." Sirius cringed inside; the words sounded stupid the second they came out of his mouth. But he couldn't help himself for some reason. To stop himself from saying any more – at least then – he took a small sip of the wine.

"I try," he said with slight amusement. "But enough about me. You, the heir to the House of Black, sitting here with me… I must admit, I never thought it would happen." He took a sip, and then lowered his glass, swirling the wine in one hand lazily. "How long has it been? A year? Two? I feel almost insulted... I haven't heard a word. I'd almost forgotten I agreed to be your patrinus."

"And with such power… from what I'd heard, you were ready to go join the Light. Meeting up with Potters isn't a hobby most of my followers indulge in. What a pity that would've been – I may have had to kill you myself. And then I hear today that you wanted to speak to me." His eyes bored into Sirius'. "I do so hope you've come to join me." His tone warned that this was the only thing he expected to hear.

"Actually…" Sirius took a deep breath, jumping fully into the chasm. "I've come about my brother."

"Yes, one of my youngest. I hear he's been injured."

"Dying."

"Yes." Lord Voldemort leaned forward slightly and looked down at his wine for a moment. He looked back at Sirius. "Oh – is it supposed to concern me?"

Sirius swallowed.

Lord Voldemort snorted and sank back into his chair. "All you purebloods are the same, you know – you're all to terrified to talk to me. I thought you Blacks would be different; after all, your father was one of my first. But then I got Bellatrix, who is a little... wild, and now you-"

Sirius knew instinctively that he had to be bold, reckless. Stupid. "I want to know if you can save him – I want you to save him."

Lord Voldemort opened his mouth, about to speak. Sirius stared defiantly back at him.

"Finally, some backbone." Sirius let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Why should I save him, though? He's of no use to me right now, and he wasn't even injured fighting for me. No… he was injured… protecting you. Why should I reward such behavior?" He smiled viciously. "Consider this his punishment."

The air left him. This couldn't be the end… this couldn't be the way Regulus would die.

No.

I do so hope you've come to join me.

The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair, waiting. He hadn't thrown him out yet. He had named his price: he wouldn't beg, he wouldn't plead for Sirius to join him – no, he wanted him, but he also wanted Sirius to come to him, willingly and freely.

"I will do whatever…" The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow at the loose implications of Sirius' words. Sirius took a deep breath and started over. "I will join you, if you will save my brother." He held the Dark Lord's stare. "Patrinus."

The Dark Lord smiled at last.

"I suppose that would be acceptable," he said at last. "But it won't be as easy as that. No. You see, it would be a waste for me to go through all that effort to save your brother if you turned out to be… well, less then useful. And then there was the question of that very important mission your brother was supposed to complete…" His voice trailed off thoughtfully.

"I'll do it," Sirius said quickly, leaping at the chance. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it."

"Really?" The Dark Lord made it sound like he hadn't even considered the possibility. "And what will I do with you afterwards? Why would I trust you with my secret plans… when you might just go running to Dumbledore with them."

"I didn't come here to play games," said Sirius, grinding out the words. "My brother is dying-"

"And there's that backbone again." The Dark Lord smiled. It immediately sent a chill down Sirius' spine. "Very well then. Come here."

Sirius knew the motions already. In a swift step, he was before Voldemort; in another second, he was kneeling, his arm outstretched and his sleeve rolled up.

"Someone's taught you well," the Dark Lord said with disinterest. He took out his wand and held it to Sirius' forearm.

Sirius felt his pulse speed up; he couldn't take it anymore. Frantically, he said "Please, just do it-"

Sirius didn't even hear the spell cast before his arm exploded with fire. It was only unexpected, however, and barely hurt; more interesting to Sirius was the way he could feel the spell – almost like pincers – sink into his forearm and into his magic, binding him to the Dark Lord. On his skin, dark lines began to dance back and forth, the color fading and then reappearing, before jolting and settling into the familiar shape of the Dark Mark.

Numbly, he stared at the mark. And then his eyes rose to meet the Dark Lord's, his face emotionless and his eyes cold.

"You know, I've never performed that particular ritual before," Lord Voldemort remarked, tilting his head slightly as he considered his godson. Sirius knew he wasn't talking about the marking he'd just given him.

He was waiting.

"My godson..." the Dark Lord said, at once possessive and vaguely mocking. "We'll talk when you come back. I do not intend to forsake my duty."

When Lily woke up, her mind was… fuzzy. Her body too. She just didn't want to… move.

Her head hurt. So much. The stone- stone?- what-

And water. Dripping water-

"Oh good, wonder girl's awake." It seemed a bit sarcastic to Lily.

She groaned involuntarily as she lifted her head, the pain forcing her to stop. Her vision was blurry, the stones above her going in and out of focus as she tried to open her eyes. Lily flinched when a drop of water hit her forehead-

Water? Her mind focused so suddenly that her body jolted. What's going on?

Struggling with purpose now, Lily tried to lift her head. The rest of her body simply refused to obey her at first, but she finally was able to shift into a position where she could see the rest of the room—is it even a room?

The voice had come from her side, but to her still-tired eyes the darkness was almost too much.

"What, is the princess too tired?" Nope, she wasn't imagining it – whoever it was, they really didn't like her. Blinking, the she finally saw the figure before her.

It didn't seem quite real, but the figure refused to disappear even after she blinked several times.

Before her, like some hideous medieval torture device, stood – though stood was perhaps not the best word – a gnarly wooden pole. An old woman, looking quite like a muggle witch about to be burned, was thoroughly tied to it, her already swollen feet left to dangle several inches above the floor. The only part of her body that remained unbound was her face.

"Who… who are you?" Shock filled her voice. "And where am I?"

Instead of taking sympathy on the traumatized girl, the tied-up woman sneered at her. "And here I heard how you were so smart. Well, if you're so smart, why don't you get us out of-"

"Quiet, you bat." Lily's spine stiffened instinctively. It was the man from before. Instantly, she let her head drop back down to the floor, as if pretending to be asleep would save her from whatever dark fate clearly awaited her. Clip. Clop.

The falling drops of water hit the floor just as the man began to walk. Lily peaked, she couldn't help it-

"I knew you weren't asleep." Lily leaped back in fear as she opened her eyes to that hideously smiling face. "Oh, don't be scared now," said the man as he rose to stand over her still nearly paralyzed body that was unable to run away. "The more you struggle, the worse this will be for you." He pulled out his wand quickly and made a rapid swish in the air. Twisting her head rabidly now, Lily felt herself being lifted up on only air and onto a stone slab she hadn't noticed before. She opened her mouth to scream, but it was no use: the unspoken spell had now muted her. "Oh, I know, I'd love to hear you scream too," said the man coldly as her eyes fell on him, mouth opened desperately. "But I'd rather not wake the whole household."

"Uncle?" Lily would have gasped if she'd been able too; she settled for turning her head towards the noise. But despite her wild hopes, none other than James Potter had entered.

She closed her mouth. The tears dried up.

Slowly, she turned her face to the ceiling.

"Miss Evans, I see you remember James. How lovely." Charlus Potter's dark, bottomless eyes met her's as he leaned over her, securing some sort of binding. "I wouldn't bother asking him for help, though. I thought it would be much easier just to Imperio him for this ritual. He's got quite a lot to learn, still – it'd be a pity to see it all wasted just because he felt something for you." He could have been talking about the weather in that tone.

He paused over her. "You still don't understand, do you?" Lily felt the ropes tighten on her arms, but she ignored it, just as she ignored him. I will not give you that satisfaction, you monster. "I see." His voice mocked with every word. "All the better for me, then." His eyes held hers as she felt a wand touch her head.

And then it all fell into darkness once more.

"Are you the new recruit? Nevermind, of course you are – come on, we're already late." Lucius Malfoy entered and exited the library in the same second, knowing he wouldn't dare not follow the pureblood heir.

A masked Sirius Black hastily tucked the book he'd been reading back into his robe and followed swiftly. The door slammed quietly behind him.

The Dark Lord handed him the newly conjured mask silently. Sirius, still kneeling, tilted his head up; at the Dark Lord's nod, he rose respectfully and, taking the mask, slipped it onto his face. The magic on the mask fitted onto his face smoothly, shifting slightly to fit his face. Despite the lack of any sort of ties, the mask held perfectly on his face.

"Come." The Dark Lord turned sharply and walked over to the bookcase Sirius had been standing at early. His hand flew over the books, stopping as it came to the exact book Sirius had been so drawn to. But then his hand wavered.

The Dark Lord turned his head towards him, raising an eyebrow, questioning whether or not Sirius would respond. When Sirius didn't move, he slid out one of the other books without looking at the bookcase

He offered the book to Sirius delicately. "Come to me after you've read it, and we'll talk further. In the meantime, wait here."

Sirius had followed Lucius through a long hallway and out of the house. Unconsciously, he shivered as the cold night air hit him, but he regained composure in a mere second. In the distance, Sirius saw what looked like sticks on the hill.

As he'd assumed, Lucius lead him up the hill, where the sticks turned into figures as they grew closer and closer. They stopped when they finally reached the huddled group.

"Finally," said one of the figures softly. With a jolt, Sirius recognized his cousin Bellatrix.

Lucius turned slightly towards Sirius and motioned with his hand towards the group. Sirius realized he was about to ask his name only seconds before he started to talk. But why would the Dark Lord-

"Wolf, this is Owl, Falcon, and Possum. I'm Griffin." Sirius could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat before he realized that Lucius was using code names. He doesn't even realize I know him, he thought coldly.

Lucius turned towards the group once more. "We're going to be flying to a town called Cokesworth. It's a few miles south – take a broomstick from the pile." He gave them a second to pick up their broomsticks. As he picked his up, Sirius noticed the name Firestorm carved in gold on the side. So the Dark Lord didn't spare any expense when it came to his Death Eaters – well, his prodigies at least, he amended as his eyes swept over the group. With Bellatrix – or Falcon – in the group, he doubted that the rest of the group would be any less impressive.

"It's a simple mission. Go into the house – there shouldn't be any wards, but wait for my signal – and take anything that might be important."

"Might be important?" Falcon murmured.

"Papers, potions, books – anything that looks like it could have information in it, take it. Don't bother reading anything, just take it all. We need to get to it before the someone else does."

"Do we know what's so important about the information there?" Lucius turned to Sirius as if he had just noticed him.

"The Dark Lord's missive was to look for anything that could be used in a binding ritual. But we are to collect any books on magic at all. And anything blank – we don't have time to try and find if anything's hidden inside. Any other questions?"

"Why the code names?" The voice was one of a fellow Slytherin – though several years older, and slightly stupid, if Sirius recalled correctly.

"Well, Possum…" Lucius emphasized the name deliberately. "Veritsum. Do you really want to get caught us all caught on your first mission?"

Possum shut up.

"Let's go."

They reached the house barely an hour later. It was in a slightly run-down neighborhood, surrounded on either side by identical houses. Though lights were on in some of the houses down the street, all of the houses closest to them were dark. The house next to the target even appeared as if it had been abandoned suddenly.

As he started to move forward, a hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He turned his head to the side; it was his own cousin, who motioned silently to Lucius. Stupid, Sirius, he chided himself. You have to start thinking things through.

Lucius had his eyes fixed on the house in determination. His mouth moved, but no sound came out; even in the darkness, Sirius could have sworn he saw small drops of sweat appear on his forehead. He's testing for wards. When did he learn that?

He motioned them forward a few seconds later. Sirius let Bellatrix move in front of him – or rather she quickly swept herself forward to follow Lucius in. He didn't bother taking it personally; after all, he was only a new, measly recruit for all she knew.

Lucius motioned him to the second floor. Bellatrix and the other – Owl, Sirius remembered – followed the two of them upstairs. Possum, Lucius made quite clear, was to stay downstairs and search the tiny living room.

The second floor had only two rooms. Bellatrix tugged him into the room to the left, which seemed to be some sort of a study. She tossed him a small bag as he started to walk towards the bookcase. "Don't worry, it won't fill up. Go quickly."

He nodded and began to toss books indiscriminatingly into the bag.

Sirius finished far too soon.

His eyes swept the bookcase slowly. He had missed something, he knew it. Or maybe it was just a feeling-

Sirius closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. Immediately, he found it: one of the bumps in the wood wasn't natural, wasn't right. He wasn't stupid enough to press it with his hand, though. Sirius opened his eyes.

It was a simple potion, applied to the wood, often used in new homes. It was a cheap and efficient way to hide things that one didn't want found. Most witches and wizards applied it to everything from locked boxes to secret compartments: once the opening was coated in the potion, it would only open for the fingerprint that first locked it.

And if you didn't know it had been applied… why, simply touching the opening would spread an acid onto the finger that would slowly spread up the hand, killing each and every nerve.

He smiled. There was a reason this potion wasn't used in the older houses, and now he understood why. Closing his eyes again, Sirius pushed forward with his magic, slowly mimicking the distinct ridges of the fingerprint embedded in the potion.

The cupboard swung open. Without even looking at what he had found, Sirius quickly lifted the papers out of the small compartment. Sweeping his eyes one last time over the compartment, he noticed a small flask he'd missed.

And in just enough time.

Bellatrix nearly made him jump when her hand touched his shoulder softly. He turned around to face her; behind him, his magic made the compartment shut softly. She lifted a finger to her lips and motioned to the stairs with her head. Sirius listened – it was quiet, but there was a distinct pair of footsteps downstairs.

And then a second.

He nodded that he'd gotten the message, though his blood had run cold. Surely they hadn't been sent into a trap?

Bellatrix motioned towards a window he hadn't noticed beforehand. Grabbing his hand, she slowly crept towards the window; it swung open before they reached it. Outside, Sirius counted two others – but not a third.

"Accicio broomsticks," said Bellatrix in such a low voice that Sirius almost didn't hear her. Holding her bag in one hand, she lifted herself out of the window and swung herself onto the broomstick; Sirius followed quickly.

On the first floor of the house, Charlus Potter stood next to the unconscious body of the man only known to Sirius as Possum, watching four figures fly off in the darkness.