Arc III: Part I
April 26th, 1985:
From the moment he awakened, Sirius found himself consumed by restlessness, his every step echoing with anxiety as he paced the confines of the dimly lit cell. He berated himself incessantly for allowing his guard to slip and feared the unknown fate that awaited Walter in the hands of their captor. The cell itself offered little solace, its only illumination emanating from two flickering torches mounted on the cold stone walls, a feeble attempt to compensate for the absence of windows. Meager furnishings—a plain desk, a solitary bed, and a cramped shower—provided the barest semblance of comfort within the confines of the cell.
A silver admonitor encircled his right wrist, its grip firm and unyielding. Unlike its usual function of monitoring magical usage, this particular admonitor restrained Sirius, rendering him unable to transform or disapparate, effectively trapping him within the confines of the cell. Frustrated and desperate, Sirius spent countless hours pounding his fists against the unyielding iron door, his voice reverberating with futile cries, until gradually, he succumbed to an enveloping silence that offered no response.
Sirius finally settled onto the small bed; his gaze fixated on his reflection in the modest mirror adorning the smoky gray stone wall before him. However, confusion gripped him, for despite being held captive in an unfamiliar location, he couldn't help but notice that he hadn't endured any mistreatment, nor could he sense the looming presence of a dementor.
On the contrary, once a day, a gentle yellow gas would permeate the cell, lulling Sirius into a deep slumber. Upon waking, he struggled to discern whether he had dozed for mere moments or extended hours, yet without fail, he discovered fresh attire, a bar of soap, and a box of ample sustenance waiting for him on the desk. It was through this routine that Sirius determined only seven days had passed, committing his captor's schedule to memory.
The anticipated moment drew near, and as expected, Sirius heard the telltale sound of the shower starting, the gas seeping into the cell. Swiftly, he held his breath, positioning himself on the bed, deliberately allowing a leg and arm to dangle over the edge, simulating the appearance of surprise.
Suddenly, the distinct click of the door's lock echoed through the air, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. In an instant, as the newcomer set the box down on the desk, Sirius sprang to his feet, launching himself at the intruder. Caught off guard, the man's panic surged as he fumbled to retrieve his wand, but before he could make a move, Sirius seized him by the throat, forcefully pressing him against the unforgiving stone wall just beyond the cell. With a determined grip, Sirius squeezed, shattering the protective bubble that shielded the man from the gas's effects.
As Sirius poised to deliver a powerful blow to the man's abdomen, an unexpected plea pierced the air, "PLEASE, DON'T HURT ME!" The man's eyes squeezed shut, a lone tear escaping from the corner of his eye. Within seconds, however, his desperate cries transformed into fitful coughs and wheezes, as he struggled to free himself from Sirius's grasp. With one hand flailing weakly, he frantically searched his pocket with the other, gasping, "...My Ventolin... Quickly!"
Relinquishing his grip, Sirius took a step back, ensuring a safe distance between himself and the gasping man. With the man's wand now in his possession, Sirius furrowed his brow as he observed the disheveled figure struggling to regain composure. The man appeared a few years younger than Sirius, in his twenties, boasting a dark complexion and a neatly trimmed Caesar haircut. Whatever he had ingested from the small, gray object he clutched, it had evidently taken effect, for he now breathed with ease, his eye wiped clean of tears. Letting out a sigh of relief, he leaned against the wall behind him, finding support and solace in its embrace.
Sirius aimed his wand at the man's forehead, his voice sharp and demanding, "Who the hell are you?"
"Seriously, man? You almost killed me! I was just bringing you food!" the man replied, taking deep breaths to steady himself.
Sirius slapped him and grabbed him by the shirt, pressing the end of his wand against his head. He growled, "Cut the crap! Who are you? And where am I? Answer me!"
"Take it easy! My name is Red, Red Russel... Let's go upstairs, and you'll see for yourself. They can explain better than I can, anyway," Red Russel said, his hands raised above his head, visibly terrified despite his attempts to appear calm.
Sirius locked eyes with him for a brief moment before saying, "Upstairs?"
"Yeah, just don't kill me, please!" Red Russel pleaded.
Sirius jerked him away from the wall, pushing him forward while keeping his wand pressed against his back. He issued a stern warning, "Fine... Walk slowly, and I'll be right behind you. I'm warning you, try anything, and you're dead. Understood?"
"You got it," Red Russel replied, moving cautiously toward the stairs that led upstairs, his hands still raised above his head.
Sirius followed closely, scrutinizing each step the man took. He asked, "Do you know who I am?"
"Who doesn't?" Red Russel replied, ascending the stairs slowly, his hands remaining elevated.
"Good... So you know I mean business," Sirius stated, as they reached the top and entered a small foyer. With a quick glance, Sirius recognized the surroundings—a quaint countryside house. Just then, the wand he had taken from Red a few minutes earlier leaped from his hand into the grasp of a small, elderly woman standing a few feet away. At that moment, Sirius felt his body freeze against his will.
Red let out a chuckle and slowly lowered his arms before delivering a punch. He then retrieved his wand from the petite woman, who glared at him disapprovingly. With a confident stride, he walked away, leaving Sirius alone with the elderly woman. As Red disappeared from Sirius's sight, the woman released the spell, allowing Sirius to massage his jaw in silence.
With her piercing blue eyes, she scrutinized Sirius from head to toe. She tucked her wand into a pocket of her apron before speaking, "Well, at least I'm relieved to have my cellar back... You should make your way to the dining room unless you prefer going to bed on an empty stomach tonight." She pointed her finger in the direction Red had just taken a few seconds earlier, then descended into the cellar, leaving Sirius alone.
Sirius observed her retreating figure as she descended the stairs. Instead of following her instructions, he made a beeline for the front door. However, the moment his hand touched the doorknob, a sharp burn seared his skin, causing him to growl in pain. Then, he heard the woman's voice echoing from downstairs, "Mr. Black, in case you misunderstood my directions, the dining room is in the opposite direction."
Sirius gazed at his palm for a moment, then proceeded to stroll down the narrow hallway. He followed the sound of lively conversations, paying no mind to the individuals depicted in the pictures lining the walls, who seemed to taunt and insult him. Eventually, he reached a dining room where five men were gathered around a circular table, with the eldest man carving a roasted chicken.
The first to notice Sirius's arrival was a man in his fifties, sporting bushy brown hair and donning thick blue glasses. He promptly alerted the others, causing their heads to turn toward Sirius's position. The group exchanged anxious glances, while one of them whispered to his companion seated on the right, receiving a disapproving stare in response. Subsequently, the oldest man placed the long knife on the table, wiped his hands with a napkin, and approached Sirius.
As the man drew nearer, Sirius's eyes gradually recognized him as the elderly gentleman who had attacked him and Walter at the pub. He was tall, possessed a short white beard, and shared the same piercing eyes as the woman he had encountered earlier. The man stood before Sirius, extending his hand in a gesture of greeting. Sirius's gaze shifted gradually from the extended hand to the man's face, silently refusing to shake it.
"Sirius Black... My name is Ludvik Balasko," the man introduced himself, gesturing towards the others. "This is Damocles Belby," Ludvik said, indicating the man who had initially noticed Sirius. "And here we have Eldred Worple," he continued, pointing to a small, stout man who averted his gaze from Sirius. "The young man who lacks the courtesy to wait for others to eat is Mikhail Sergeevich," Ludvik added sternly, directing a disapproving look at a blond man who continued to devour his French fries. "And you've already met Red Russel. Please, join us," he concluded, reclaiming his seat at the table.
"Where is my friend? Where is Walter?" Sirius inquired, his eyes scanning the room while he remained rooted in place. Except for Ludvik Balasko, the other men avoided eye contact as they shuffled their chairs to create a space for Sirius at Ludvik's right.
"Your friend is doing well... And if you wish to learn more about why you're among us, I'll provide all the explanations you seek after we've had dinner," Ludvik responded, motioning towards the empty chair beside him.
Sirius slowly shook his head, indicating his disagreement. "No, we need to talk now."
Ludvik offered him a smile, but in an instant, Sirius collapsed to his knees, writhing in agony. He clutched his wrist while the admonitor around his wrist administered a relentless electric shock, causing excruciating pain to course through his body. The torment ceased, and as Sirius reopened his eyes, he found Ludvik standing above him, peering down coldly.
"From this point forward, Mr. Black, remember that if you're unwilling to cooperate, I will exert my control over you like a docile dog," Ludvik declared, crouching beside him and whispering, "If it helps you decide, imagine a beautiful young blonde woman in your position... How long do you think she would endure? Shall we find out together?"
Sirius's glare intensified as he uttered, "I'll..." But before he could complete his sentence, another scream escaped his lips, and he writhed in agony on the carpet.
"Excuse me, did I hear something I didn't wish to hear?" Ludvik inquired, raising an eyebrow.
Sirius fought to endure the pain and maintain his pride until the words "please... stop" involuntarily spilled from his mouth, prompting the agony to cease once more.
Ludvik patted his head condescendingly and remarked, "Good dog!" He then rose to his feet and returned to the table, resuming his seat. He gazed at Sirius and asked, "So, would you care to join us at the table, or would you prefer to dine on the floor?"
After a lengthy and uncomfortable dinner, Ludvik proposed moving from the dining room to the living area, where they settled into couches and armchairs. Ludvik instructed Mikhail Sergeevich to complete the dishwashing as a consequence of starting to eat before the rest of the group. Then, Ludvik lit a cigarette, cleared his throat, and began speaking.
"There's no need to keep glancing at the doors and windows, Mr. Black... You're a prisoner here unless I say otherwise. That Admonitor on your wrist isn't just for bending you to my will, but also for locating you at any time and preventing you from using any form of magic that I haven't previously authorized," Ludvik stated, exhaling a plume of smoke.
Sirius nodded and inquired, "What do you want from me? Who are you, and why am I not already back in Azkaban?"
The old man shrugged and responded, "You're not back in Azkaban because I believe it would be such a waste to not utilize a man as skilled as you... Anyway, as I already mentioned, my name is Ludvik Balasko. Does that ring a bell?"
Sirius frowned, recalling that indeed the name carried significant recognition. "The former Minister for Magic in Romania?"
"Indeed," Ludvik affirmed, nodding in agreement.
"The hero? The one who participated in the final battle against Grindelwald's forces?" Sirius inquired.
"Exactly. I retired many decades ago, but it's true... As for our location, we're near Bran in Transylvania," Ludvik replied.
"I'm in Romania?" Sirius questioned.
"That's where Transylvania is, unless someone has magically relocated it overnight... which I highly doubt," Ludvik stated, cleaning his glasses.
"Alright... What do you want from me? Why haven't you already turned me over to the Aurors?" Sirius asked, glancing at the men seated around him.
Before Ludvik could respond, Damocles Worple stood up and declared loudly, "Before we proceed any further, Eldred and I would like to reiterate our complete refusal to be associated with Black. We also strongly advise you to step back and immediately hand him over to the authorities, lest we find ourselves in a court of law charged with aiding an international criminal."
Then, Red Russel turned to Ludvik and said, "I agree with them. This is a mistake. We don't need him, and by keeping him here, we're only putting ourselves in danger."
Ludvik let out a sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, before responding to them, "We have already discussed this matter and provided all the assurances you requested." He then waited for Worple to resume his seat before continuing, his gaze fixed on Sirius. "Mr. Black, we find ourselves in a delicate situation."
"What situation? And what does it have to do with me?" Sirius asked.
"For the past four decades, since Grindelwald's defeat, this region has enjoyed peaceful days, and my sister and I, being the only wizards residing here, have been the sole observers," Ludvik explained, drawing out the suspense.
"What have you observed?" Sirius inquired, unable to conceal his frustration.
"Vlad Tepes' castle vanished approximately six months ago... The real one, not the muggle tourist attraction. Simultaneously, a series of brutal murders have been occurring. It began with a case I traced in Germany, then gradually moved south until the incidents became concentrated here in Romania, specifically Transylvania, coinciding with the disappearance of the castle," Ludvik disclosed.
"So, you believe the killer has taken up residence in the castle?" Sirius questioned.
"Yes, that's what I believe," Ludvik confirmed.
"Well, if I connect the dots, and considering Eldred Worple's reputation in Great Britain for his work on vampires, you think a vampire has established itself in the castle and is hunting in the region. We should owl the Ministry of Magic, specifically the Department of Magical Creatures Regulation, and have them investigate and send Aurors to close the case. Then, we can part ways and avoid any further encounters," Sirius suggested.
"Unfortunately, things are quite different here... Due to budget cuts, we can barely afford to maintain an Auror office, so they are only deployed for high-priority missions. The Ministry's funds have been dwindling since the war, which has forced us to merge departments or even dismantle them. So, unless this case becomes serious enough to threaten the International Confederation of Wizards' secrecy statute, something we want to avoid, the few Aurors we have will remain stationed at the Ministry," Ludvik explained.
"How can the Ministry of Magic be short on funds?" Sirius inquired.
"How much do you know about the aftermath of the war?" Ludvik asked.
"I know it ended when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald," Sirius replied.
"That's a simplified summary of the end... Before their famous duel, Europe experienced a thirty-year civil war that cost a significant amount of gold. Grindelwald was not only a powerful wizard but also a charismatic speaker who seduced a considerable number of people and corrupted them. Unfortunately, we learned the hard way just how fickle loyalty can be," Ludvik revealed.
"Yeah... I've learned that the hard way too," Sirius remarked.
"Within our own ranks, many wizards and witches switched sides, viewing Grindelwald as a means to acquire wealth, glory, or justice... So, we had to ensure that our people were well 'fed,' and that was the easier part," Ludvik stated.
"What was the more difficult part?" Sirius inquired.
"By keeping him away from weapons that would undoubtedly seal the fate of the entire world... Dragons," Ludvik stated. "Are you aware of the devastation a single fully-grown dragon can unleash upon a city like London or Paris? It would be reduced to ashes within an afternoon. Now, imagine what he could have done with ten of the five hundred dragons in Romania alone..." He exhaled a cloud of smoke that took the shape of a dragon, soaring through the ceiling.
"Our priority was to establish a reserve to safeguard the dragons from him. We were compelled to purchase hundreds of acres of land and cast powerful spells to shield the reserve from both wizards and muggles. It required the construction of complex infrastructure as well. All of this constituted a substantial investment, and the maintenance costs have drained our coffers to the point where we had to resort to loans from the goblins," Ludvik explained.
"In short, your ministry is financially strained and can barely sustain its current operations," Sirius summarized.
"I must remind all of you that we currently have no concrete evidence to accuse a vampire, and all your suspicions are solely based on stereotypes. A vampire, traditionally, would lure victims to its lair and feed on them over the course of days..." Worple interjected before Ludvik cut him off.
"Eldred... all the victims were discovered drained of their blood in the ancient land of the most notorious vampire in history, precisely when his castle vanished! What more do you require as evidence?" Ludvik countered.
"If you had bothered to conduct some research, you would know that vampires dread that castle and this region because, even after centuries since his death, Count Dracula continues to strike fear into the hearts of other vampires... Many refuse to believe he is truly deceased," Worple argued.
"Why would they fear him?" Sirius inquired.
"For the same reasons wizards fear scum like you and You-Know-Who. The count hunted other vampires to feed on them. He was a cannibal, so I highly doubt that any self-respecting vampire would go near that castle," Worple retorted.
"Can we at least agree that we have sufficient grounds to initiate an investigation?" Ludvik pleaded.
"An investigation, yes! But not a full-blown hunting party!" Worple insisted.
"What would be my role in this 'investigation'?" Sirius inquired. "You were the former head of the Romanian Auror office before becoming minister, and a much more powerful wizard than me. So, why exactly do you need me?"
"Enlisting a skilled bounty hunter in the services of evil forces is well beyond our budget, and there's no guarantee of their discretion... However, capturing the Dark Lord's first lieutenant, who himself has every interest in remaining discreet, and compelling him to work for free is a much more reasonable option. Why should I deal with the Vampire myself? Why would I risk my life when I can send someone expendable?" Ludvik responded.
"Expendable?" Sirius whispered.
"Who would miss a Death Eater? If you die, I'll make it appear as if I did it... After all, there's a bounty on you, dead or alive," Ludvik said, smiling.
Sirius nodded silently, his fingers strumming on his lap. Then he spoke, "Damocles Belby and Eldred Worple... Two renowned Ravenclaws and experts in their fields, but not exactly men of action." He then turned to Red Russel, "You were on the verge of passing out when I tackled you, so I highly doubt you're 'vampire hunting' material or any sort of action-oriented individual." Finally, he looked at Mikhail Sergeevich and remarked, "You spent fifteen minutes washing the dishes in the kitchen when you could have finished in a minute with your wand. I could say you're a Muggle or a Squib, but your hand has been firmly gripping your wand in your pocket the entire time." Sirius leaned back against the armchair. "The only one whose presence makes sense so far is Worple. What are they doing here?"
"I placed ads in various newspapers, and they were the only ones who contacted me," Ludvik explained.
"Worple, I assume you're here for field work... But Belby, why are you here?" Sirius questioned.
"You'd be surprised to learn that our national 'vampire expert' here is actually afraid of vampires and has never encountered one in his life. He came knocking at my door and pleaded with me to accompany him. I wasn't surprised, really. That's how it's been since we were kids at Hogwarts... always saving him," Belby revealed.
"Nonsense! I came to see you so we could embark on an adventure, just like when we were young! It feels like an eternity since you last published a single paper. You spend your days idly sitting and gazing into your cauldron. And would you kindly remind me when exactly did you save me?" Worple asked, his anger evident.
"Third year. You snuck out of our dorm at night, on some wild quest in the forbidden forest," Belby retorted.
"To see the centaurs! And how could you have saved me when I was never in any danger? It was dark, I got lost in the park, and never even made it to the forest! You only went to fetch Hagrid and then indulged in a feast at his hut while he searched for me!" Worple exclaimed.
"If I hadn't gone to find Hagrid, you would have succumbed to hypothermia," Belby responded.
"In the last week of May?" Worple questioned.
"Enough! Both of you, stop it! It's been like this since you arrived! Merlin... Anyway, you're right, I'm not cut out for fighting, and I won't. I graduated from Ilvermorny just a year ago," Red interjected.
"You're quite far from home... What brings you here?" Sirius inquired.
"Do we really have to converse with him, Ludvik?" Worple asked.
"How can you even consider getting along with a Death Eater as if nothing ever happened?" Belby added.
"Do you have any idea what we endured during You-Know-Who's decade of terrorism?" Worple demanded.
"No, he doesn't. Otherwise, he wouldn't be asking us," Belby remarked.
"They're absolutely right! Why are we even engaging with him? Now that he's under your spell, our puppet! Let's lock him back in the cellar and use him when we need him!" Red suggested.
"I'm still here, you know?" Sirius chimed in.
Ludvik closed his eyes and let out a sigh before speaking. "Once again, I provided more than enough assurances that Black won't pose a threat to us, and I explained why his cooperation is crucial. So, please, let's refrain from further interruptions and make some progress before morning arrives. Red, please continue."
"Alright... If I express my discomfort about discussing my life with the wizard KKK, I'll likely end up regretting it, correct?" Red inquired.
"You assume correctly," Ludvik replied, his irritation evident.
"Fine... Here's the thing: I aspire to become a wandmaker. The problem is that it's an art where the masters guard its secrets jealously, and there are no academies or schools that teach it. The only way is to be accepted as an apprentice by a master. However, both Johannes Jonker and Violetta Beauvais, the only masters in North America, refused even to grant me an appointment. I even approached Ollivanders, but he turned me down too, stating that they only pass on their knowledge to their sons or daughters if they deem them capable of taking over the shop in the future. So, I was about to visit Mykew Gregorovitch when I came across Ludvik's advertisement in the Daily Prophet, recognized his name, and decided to strike a deal with him," Red explained.
"Mykew and I have been friends since our years at Durmstrang. We were in the same year... Joan, it's your turn," Ludvik interjected.
"I'm an archaeologist, specializing in ancient scriptures and runes. I wanted to explore and study the castle, and in return for my assistance, Ludvik will provide me with the necessary authorizations," Mikhail said.
"Is that all?" Sirius asked.
"That sums up what I have to say... Were you expecting more?" Mikhail retorted.
"Well, your friend just divulged his entire life story... Anyway, Worple is here to help determine if a vampire is involved, and Belby could contribute with brewing some useful potions. As for you, I assume you possess skill in charms, and our archaeologist is well-versed in reading books. And you, Balasko, are a retired Auror," Sirius remarked. "Quite the dream team, I must say. But you still haven't answered my question... What's in it for you?"
"Excuse me?" Ludvik questioned.
"Why would you risk your lives? I can't imagine for a second that this house isn't heavily protected, and only a fool would dare attack you. So, why?" Sirius pressed.
"How could I comfortably stay at home while innocent people are being murdered?" Ludvik responded, extinguishing his cigarette.
"The treasure... he wants the treasure," a voice spoke up beside Sirius. He turned his head to his right and found the old woman gazing darkly at Ludvik, who returned her glare.
"A treasure? What treasure?" Sirius inquired.
"Dini, this isn't the right time," Ludvik whispered.
"The treasure hidden in the castle, Mr. Black," the woman said, ignoring Ludvik. "Our family is connected to the wizard who put an end to Dracul's Tyranny and believed that Dracul's treasure was located there. However, the count had placed dangerous wards and curses to protect it. In our ancestor's journal, it is written that vampire blood is necessary to break those enchantments. But since Dracul perished, no vampire has dared approach the region, and thus, the treasure has remained untouched."
"Do you want to capture the vampire and use him to access the treasure? That's why you don't want the Aurors here. They'll break through whatever is concealing the castle, capture the vampire, and seize the treasure. So, you've kept it a secret and sought help from abroad. He made you sign a contract, right?" Sirius inquired of the others.
"He deceived us," Red replied.
"It's not my fault if you fail to read before signing a magical contract," Ludvik retorted.
"As a former Auror, head of the magical law department, and Minister of Magic, you should have the decency to leave the gold to your country, which apparently needs it more than you," Sirius said.
"It's more complicated than it seemed," Ludvik defended.
"No, it's very simple! You see, Mr. Black, my brother is famous for his achievements during the war. However, the world doesn't know that after retiring, he gambled away all his belongings and gold until he lost everything. Forty years ago, he showed up unannounced at my door for a weekend visit and never left since... Despite all my efforts to make him," she said, glaring at Ludvik, "I am Denise Balasko, and I know that you are in my house."
"I see... So everything changes now," Sirius remarked.
"Nothing has changed," Ludvik countered.
"I'm afraid I disagree... Until now, I had the impression that no choice was given to me. But after hearing your sister, I've learned that I'm not the only one who wants to avoid the Aurors. Therefore, I'd like to add my own clause to this deal," Sirius stated.
"Don't overestimate yourself, Black," Ludvik warned, causing Sirius to feel a burning sensation in his wrist. "We are doing you a favor. I can portkey us to the ministry right..."
"Do it! Maybe you'll be doing me a favor... I don't believe they'll let a Dementor kiss me before asking about what happened in France and Germany, how I escaped from prison, or what I've been doing since. And, of course, if they believe I was Voldemort's right-hand man, they'll want names... Oh, and there's also Dumbledore... I'll tell them about this vampire story. You know what? I'll tell them everything. I'll make a list of Death Eaters, Voldemort's spies in the ministry, and his allies abroad. After all, some made deals to avoid Azkaban, right? Perhaps I can negotiate a reduced sentence or a house arrest... until I convince them of my repentance and walk free ten years from now," Sirius said with a smile. "So, would you like to negotiate a deal, or are we going to spend the rest of the night comparing our dicks?"
They gazed at him in silence, and then Ludvik asked, "What do you want?"
"I'll accept to help you willingly. I'll do my best to stop the killer and won't attempt to escape or break this Admonitor until my part of the deal is respected. You, Balasko, are going to ensure I receive a fair trial in England and forget about the location and people you find me with... forever," Sirius declared.
"You want a trial? Why?... Your case has evolved since and you'll face trial in front of the ICW. You don't have a single chance of being acquitted." Ludvik stated.
"That would be my problem, not yours," Sirius replied. "So, do you accept my conditions?"
"I accept. If you keep your word, I will get you what you want," Ludvik agreed.
"Perfect... One last thing, Balasko. I've heard enough tonight to understand that you're a terrible person, but I'd like to believe that you're an experienced man. By that, I mean you know how badly things can turn out if you try to betray me. So, remember who you're dealing with, and let's both keep our promise," Sirius asserted.
"Understood," Ludvik acknowledged.
"Wonderful," Denise chimed in. "Now, Red, Mikhail, it's time for bed!"
"Denise... We're twenty," Red protested, as Denise pinched Joan, who had said something in Russian.
"And I'm eighty, so you're too young to argue with me. Everyone, off to bed. Damocles, please be kind and clean up that cauldron you left in the kitchen. It's disgusting," Denise commanded.
Belby stood up, saying, "Right away, my lady!" He then headed toward the kitchen.
Denise turned to Sirius and said, "You'll be sharing a room with Red and Mikhail."
"Don't bother. I can sleep on the couch," Sirius responded.
"No, you'll be more comfortable upstairs. Good night," Denise said, waving her hand before leaving them.
Later, Sirius climbed into the bed that Red had pointed out to him. As he lay there, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. Memories of the night he had spent with Hans and Walter beneath the stars flooded his mind, only to be overshadowed by the sickening thought of Emma, unaware of his return from the pub, rushing there only to find her brother unconscious. Turning to his side, he pondered on the safest and most effective way to inform them about the situation. He made a solemn promise to himself to bring an end to this ordeal as swiftly as possible.
