Arc IV: Part III

After a long and tiring journey through the countryside, the group finally arrived at their destination—an enchanting Inn nestled on the outskirts of a small village. The quaint establishment offered a serene and peaceful escape from the bustling city they had left behind just a few hours earlier.

As they approached the Inn, its picturesque appearance appeased them. The frontage faced the main road, with two wings set back on either side, surrounded by lush greenery and blooming flowers. Its unique design featured a plan that was partly cut into the hillside, adding to its rustic and natural charm.

The Inn's stone walls, covered in ivy, gave it a timeless and classic look. Soft, billowing curtains adorned the windows on the first and second floors, inviting warm and welcoming light inside. Standing before the Inn, the group couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over them. The peaceful surroundings and charming exterior were the perfect starts to their much-needed getaway, and with eager anticipation, they made their way inside to explore more of what the Inn had to offer.

Weary from their journey, their feet trudged along the path, burdened by the weight of their backpacks. Splitting the yard in two, a trail led them towards a wooden archway, where they hoped to find refuge from their exhausting trek. Climbing the few steps to the entrance, their stomachs growled with hunger, a reminder of their long and tiring day. Finally, they pushed open the Inn's door and were greeted by a warm and inviting glow, beckoning them to rest their weary bodies and satisfy their empty bellies.

As they stepped inside, the lively tune of Romanian folklore filled the air, the enchanting melody of violins ringing out. But their attention was quickly captured by a comical sight. Perched atop a barrel, a red-faced man with a long, opulent mustache sang with joy, swaying precariously on the makeshift stage as he gulped down his beer. The crowd around him echoed his every word in a boisterous chorus, their infectious enthusiasm permeating the room. Sirius, Red, and Mikhail exchanged amused glances, fully taking in the scene before them. They couldn't resist standing and listening as the man's song came to an end, accompanied by bursts of raucous laughter and thunderous applause.

Approaching the counter, Sirius and Mikhail found a bald, short man occupied with sending trays of pints levitating towards the tables. The innkeeper's apron reminded Sirius of the one he used to wear at the pub. As Mikhail began speaking to the man in Romanian, he shushed him and said, "One minute, please!" before disappearing into a cloud of smoke. With a smile, he reappeared a moment later, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" greeted the innkeeper, his gaze lingering on each of them. "What can I do for you today?"

"We would like to book three beds for the night and order dinner, please," requested Mikhail.

"I have some Mititei grilling. Would that be sufficient?" offered the innkeeper.

"That would be perfect, and we'd also like three pints as well!" replied Mikhail.

"Very well! Room number 15 is available on the first floor. You can leave your bags upstairs while I prepare your order and table, or you can wait here at the bar," suggested the innkeeper.

"We would prefer to go upstairs first, thank you!" said Mikhail, taking the key from the man.

"At your service!" the innkeeper replied with a smile.

As they ascended the staircase to the first floor, the creaking of the old wooden steps echoed through the narrow corridor. Faded wallpaper adorned the walls, accompanied by portraits of long-forgotten ancestors. Turning to the right, they ventured down the dimly lit hallway, passing several closed doors until they arrived at number 15.

With a wave of a wand, the door swung open, revealing a magically expanded room. Once small and cramped, it now offered ample space for the occupant to move freely. Cream-colored walls and carefully chosen furniture created a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

In the center of the room, facing three comfortable armchairs, stood a grand fireplace. Though unlit, it radiated warmth and comfort that permeated even the cold, dark corners. A round wooden table adorned with a colorful fruit bowl and a carafe of water sat nearby.

The remaining space was divided into three private bedrooms, each featuring its own simple yet cozy decor. The shared bathroom boasted a spacious layout, complete with a large bathtub, a separate shower, and a vanity with ample countertop space. After traversing countless miles through the picturesque countryside, this room provided the perfect respite.

After dropping their bags onto the floor, Sirius and Mikhail each chose a bedroom. However, Sirius had a change of heart and graciously allowed Mikhail to have his first choice. They then descended the stairs, maneuvering through the intoxicated crowd, and took their seats at the table indicated by the innkeeper.

In no time at all, the innkeeper arrived bearing their drinks and food. Placing a large plate of succulent grilled meat on the table, the enticing aroma of mititei wafted up to their nostrils. The sausages were perfectly cooked, devoid of any fatty skin that would detract from the juicy flavor. A side of fresh bread completed the satisfying meal.

The scent was so mouth-watering that they found themselves momentarily entranced. They eagerly dug in, savoring each delectable bite and reveling in the gratifying feeling of fullness that followed.

"Glad you liked it", exclaimed the innkeeper with a grin. "I apologize if things were a bit hectic earlier, but we're always packed on summer nights. Not that I'm complaining, mind you!"

Sirius nodded in understanding as he surveyed the crowded pub. "Yeah, I know how it gets."

Red snorted, a smirk forming on his lips. "What do you know? You've never worked a day in your life."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I've spent plenty of time in pubs during the summer, you egghead."

Red bristled at the insult, his grip tightening around his fork. "What did you call me?"

Mikhail intervened, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Come on, guys, let's not fight. Red, you do resemble a bit of an egg when you shave your head."

Red let out a sigh, running a hand over his bald scalp. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about."

As the room gradually emptied, leaving only them and a solitary man seated a little further away, Sirius' gaze was drawn to him. Finishing his drink, the man forcefully slammed his glass down on the table before striding purposefully toward them. They watched him with curiosity as he approached their table, not bothering to fetch a chair. Instead, he took a seat across from Sirius, disregarding Mikhail's attempts to speak to him in Romanian. In his heavily accented English, he initiated a conversation with Sirius and Red.

The man's voice sliced through the air like a frigid blade. "Who are you? Where are you from?" Sirius responded with a soft chuckle before calmly replying, "Piss off." Sensing the tension escalating, Mikhail interjected, "Please, allow me to handle this."

Before they could react, the man pulled out a gun and aimed it at Sirius' chest. Shocked, Sirius widened his eyes and promptly raised his hands in surrender. Attempting to defuse the situation, Sirius said, "Let's all calm down, alright? My name is Jack."

Persisting, the man pressed, "What's your last name?" Sirius couldn't resist a quip and replied with a hint of amusement in his voice, exchanging a quick glance with Red, who had covertly transfigured the gun into a water pistol beneath the table. "Mehoff... Jack Mehoff."

As the man's finger slid towards the trigger, he demanded, "Show me your identification... Do you have any idea who I'm affiliated with?"

Sirius couldn't help himself and retorted, "The international clown federation?"

Suddenly, all three turned their attention to the counter as the innkeeper appeared. Exasperated, the man dropped his box and swiftly aimed his wand at the newcomer. "STUPEFY! OBLIVIATE!" he shouted, releasing a bolt of light from his wand.

The bulky guest blinked stupidly before slumping onto the table and then sliding onto the floor. A house elf materialized out of thin air, snapped its fingers, and lifted the man's body, levitating it into another room.

The innkeeper smiled as he tucked his wand back into his apron and approached Red and Sirius. "Apologies for the inconvenience," he said. "Unfortunately, these sorts of situations are quite common."

"No problem," Red replied. "Who was that man?"

"A muggle," the innkeeper answered. "Most likely an agent from the Securității Statului. You both, especially you," he said, nodding at Red, "obviously aren't from around here."

"We were informed that this Inn was exclusively for wizards," Sirius interjected. "Why are the muggle police here? Don't you have protective enchantments to repel them?"

"Oh, no," the innkeeper replied. "We welcome anyone who can pay here! Gold, Leu, Rouble, Dollars, pounds... Money is money! Moreover, the police are everywhere in this area."

Raising an eyebrow, Red pondered, "Um... When we arrived, we noticed customers openly using magic. Aren't you afraid of breaking the statute of secrecy?"

The innkeeper burst into laughter. "The statute of secrecy? Almost all our customers, wizards or muggles, get completely wasted within the first hour! If any of them remember the following day that a drink transformed into a dancing cow on the tables, they'd rather keep it to themselves than risk ending up in a psychiatric ward," he explained as he wiped their table clean.

"I understand," Red said thoughtfully. "However, aren't you concerned that word would spread and attract attention from the Ministry?"

"They do visit occasionally," the innkeeper admitted. "They scold me, remind me of the law and its consequences. They threaten to impose fines, revoke my license, and shut down the place... Then, they order a bottle, get wasted, and transform a drink into a dancing cow on the tables," he chuckled. "Although it's been a while since I've seen them.", looking absently at the room.

Sirius couldn't resist asking, "No offense, but it seems as if nobody gives a fuck in this country?"

"We prefer simplicity," the innkeeper responded, with a shrug. "Why make life more complicated than it already is? By the way, now that I'm seeing you up close... Your face does look familiar. Have we met before?" he asked Sirius, his brow furrowing.

"Apologies, but you must be mistaking me for someone else," Sirius firmly replied.

"Are you absolutely certain you've never been here in the past, perhaps on vacation with your parents when you were younger?" the innkeeper persisted, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

Sirius finished his pint and set it down on the table. "I'm completely certain. I would remember if I had been here before."

The innkeeper nodded and offered a smile. "Very well, I believe you. Is there anything else you require before the kitchen closes?"

Red shook his head. "No, we're all set. Thank you."

"Alright then, have a pleasant evening," the innkeeper bid them farewell before returning to the kitchen.

They settled back into their chairs, relishing the calm ambiance surrounding them. Eventually, they exchanged goodnight wishes and retired to their respective rooms. One by one, they drifted off to sleep, serenaded by the gentle chirping of crickets outside, creating a tranquil backdrop for their dreams.


As had become his habit since their journey north began, Sirius woke up before dawn and quietly slipped away while Red and Mikhail were still sound asleep. He apparated to a serene valley located several miles from the inn. Upon arrival, he found himself surrounded by rolling hills and tall trees that gently swayed in the breeze. The lush green grass beneath his feet was soft and fragrant, creating a peaceful atmosphere. In the distance, a magnificent mountain range with snow-capped peaks provided a breathtaking backdrop to the tranquil scene.

Sirius settled onto the grass, positioning himself to face a serene pond that shimmered with the early morning light. Its crystal-clear waters perfectly mirrored the azure sky above and the beauty of the surrounding landscape. He observed the graceful movements of fish darting through the water, their motions creating gentle ripples that spread across the surface. The air, cool and refreshing, carried with it the soothing hum of nature.

In silence, Sirius directed his gaze towards the water, taking in the scenery and inhaling deeply, relishing the pureness of the moment. He firmly grasped his wand, feeling its strong will envelop tightly around his hand. With closed eyes, he surrendered himself to the wand's power, having grown accustomed to its magic. In this state, he allowed it to guide him, fostering a profound connection between them.

Sirius opened his eyes, finding himself standing on a busy London street in the heart of the Muggle side. His younger self was walking alongside Lily, whose infectious smile and cheerful chatter radiated her surroundings. They hurriedly made their way to an old-fashioned movie theater, and Sirius discreetly followed, blending in with the bustling crowd. Faded posters adorned the walls, and a flickering neon sign hung above the entrance, giving the theater a nostalgic charm, while the cool, stale air and the scent and popping sound of buttered popcorn greeted them as they entered the lobby.

Arriving late for the movie, Sirius watched his younger self and Lily rush to purchase their tickets before heading to the hallway. The theater was already dark, and the previews had already begun when they found their seats. Whispers and shushing from annoyed moviegoers filled the air, disturbed by the disruption caused by their late arrival. Lily apologized profusely, but it only led to more whispers, further disrupting the ongoing film.

As the opening scene of The Godfather played, Sirius's attention turned to the screen. He watched as Al Pacino's character, Michael, pulled his girlfriend into the family photo, capturing the tension and unease of the moment, and finding in the scene a powerful reminder of the film's central themes: loyalty, betrayal, and the brutal world of organized crime.

Shifting in his seat, Sirius's mind wandered back to a conversation he had with Lily. She had insisted that he watch the movie with her, despite his initial discomfort with the matter. Wanting to please his friend, Sirius eventually relented. As the story unfolded on screen, he found himself drawn into the captivating world of the Corleone family. The performances of Marlon Brando and Al Pacino brought their characters to life with a raw intensity, overpowering Sirius's reservations about the film.

Lily's restless energy became palpable as the movie dragged on. She bounced in her seat, unintentionally jostling Sirius with her elbows, and whispered incessantly in his ear. Despite the annoyance of other moviegoers and his growing frustration, he couldn't help but find her enthusiasm infectious. When the end credits finally rolled and the lights came up in the dark theater, the people around them glared as they made their way to the double doors. Lily offered a series of apologetic "sorry," but it did little to quell their irritation.

Leaving the theater, the three of them walked through the now deserted hallways, accompanied only by the distant popping of popcorn at the concession counter in the lobby. Lily couldn't contain her excitement, passionately discussing her favorite scenes and characters, even mimicking them with impressions. Sirius followed behind with a smile, listening quietly. As they stepped through the theater doors, night had fallen, and Lily turned to him.

"Did you not like the movie?" she asked, curious.

Sirius laughed. "I hated every single second of it, and I wish I could un-watch it."

Lily seemed surprised. "Really? But why? It can't be my fault because I'm perfect, and I picked the movie, so it can't be the movie's fault either."

"First, don't go takin' my lines," Sirius replied. "And secondly, did you notice how funny you've gotten since you started hanging around with me? It's like you've become young again, eighty years reversed. You better be careful; McGonagall and Dumbledore might stop inviting you to their bingo parties."

Lily chuckled. "I... I..." she mumbled before giving up and shrugging her shoulders.

"Too soon…" Sirius said, grinning.

Lily looked at him with curiosity. "But Sirius, you're always amazed by the most insignificant muggle things. This movie is a masterpiece, so what's the matter?"

"Am I allowed to have some privacy?" Sirius asked with a touch of irritation.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You own a map that lets you follow and know what hundreds of people are doing, so no, you aren't allowed to have any privacy," she replied, shaking her head negatively, before hooking her arm through his and pulling him along.

They entered a coffee shop and quickly took seats across from each other at a table. Lily wasted no time getting straight to the point. "So, what's troubling you?"

Sirius took a sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts before answering. "Did you notice that boss in the movie?"

"Don Corleone?" Lily asked.

"Yeah, he reminded me of my father," Sirius said, his expression darkening.

Lily leaned in closer, her expression filled with concern. "How so?"

"His wealth, the power he has over people, the fear he imposes on them, the position he holds in the Ministry of Magic, and how he can bend the rules to get what he wants," Sirius said with disgust.

Lily nodded, sensing that there was more bothering him. "Politics can be a lion's den, Sirius. Are you just realizing it, or is there something else?"

"Actually, someone else is on everyone's lips in my world... Voldemort," Sirius said in a hushed tone. "He's the main topic at every gathering, dinner, or event in the pureblood circles. He's building his support steadily, and some families, like the Lestranges, Notts, and Averys, openly agree with his views. My own family is quite hardcore, and if my father endorses him, Voldemort could gain incredible power and influence."

Lily nodded slowly before saying, "Sirius, it takes real courage to challenge your own family's beliefs. I can't even imagine how difficult that must be. But in a democratic and civilized society, we can't suppress freedom of speech. It's through different opinions and open debates that we can defeat fascism. The wars we've seen in recent decades often arise from exclusionary policies and as far as we know, Voldemort, as much of a bigot as he may be, hasn't resorted to violence or openly called for it."

"Lily, we're not like regular folks... Things work differently in our world," Sirius said.

"We're all human, Sirius," Lily replied.

"Lily, I grew up in that tight-knit circle. The roots of evil run deep in our world. Voldemort is spreading more hatred every day, and if no one opposes him..." Sirius trailed off.

"That's precisely why we must stand up to him and his followers at Hogwarts," Lily interrupted. "Let them speak and we'll expose their own foolishness, with facts and reason. Otherwise, we would be no better than fascists like them."

Sirius sighed. "You're underestimating him... And them. James takes him seriously as well, you know."

"Goodness, Sirius!" Lily rolled her eyes. "Let's have an intelligent conversation without bringing up Potter."

"Don't call him stupid," Sirius warned.

"Sorry. But..." Lily hesitated.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"Why are you even friends with him? You have nothing in common," Lily said, testing the waters.

Sirius nodded, smiling. "As absurd as it may sound, his attitude doesn't define who he truly is. I hope one day you'll see him the way I do. By the way, have you spoken to Snape since..."

"After what he said to me, I want nothing to do with him anymore," Lily cut in sharply, before composing herself. "But I'm glad we became friends, Sirius."

"Me too," Sirius said, smiling.

"Are you guys fostering a dog in your dorm?" Lily suddenly asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"No," Sirius replied.

"People swear they've been hearing barking," Lily pointed out.

"People must be on drugs... It's getting late. We should go," Sirius said.

"Alright, I'll look into it…Prefect duties." Lily said with a shrug.

Leaving their coffees behind, they turned into a quiet alleyway, and Lily retrieved her wand to hail the Knight Bus. The bus came to a stop beside them, and Lily turned to Sirius.

"How are you getting back home?" she asked.

"Rich kid with a fancy house nearby, remember?" Sirius grinned.

"Right, of course!" Lily laughed. "Anyway, this afternoon was fantastic. Let's do it again soon. Will you send me an owl?"

"Absolutely," Sirius said, as the driver honked the horn impatiently.

Lily gave him a thumbs-up and hopped onto the bus. She leaned out of the window and called, "Take care!"

Sirius's gaze lingered on the retreating Knight Bus as it raced down the street, gradually disappearing from sight. It was the early days of July, and he knew that he wouldn't lay eyes on Lily again until they boarded the Hogwarts Express. Just two weeks after that memorable afternoon, he would shut the door behind him, leaving 12 Grimmauld Square behind forever.

As the world around him started to blur, Sirius became aware that the wand's hold on him was loosening. However, he wasn't prepared to sever their connection just yet. Fueled by a fierce determination, he summoned all his magic, pushing against the wand's influence. With a tenacious grip, he clung to the dwindling link between them, unwilling to let it slip away completely.

With a sudden jolt, the world around him transformed in the blink of an eye. The sight before him reignited an ancient fury that had long lain dormant within him. Who were they to claim such authority? What evidence could they present to justify their beliefs? As he stared into the chilling depths of their eyes, he understood that his life could be snuffed out at any moment by their blind fanaticism.

Sirius found himself trapped within the fragile frame of a young child, no older than six years. Nailed to a bed in a room cloaked in darkness by heavy curtains, he soaked the sheets in his sweat. The excruciating pain the child endured consumed Sirius entirely, his own body throbbing in agony. Turning towards the door, he beheld a woman hesitating, her eyes betraying a mix of fear and anger. Beside the bed, a man stood stoically, hands casually tucked in his pockets, seemingly unaffected by the pleas of the healers. Sirius knew his fate teetered on the precipice, uncertain if he would survive the night.

"Please, sir," one of the healers pleaded desperately, her voice quivering with concern as she gazed upon the child's writhing form. "You must allow us to help him. His fever is dangerously high, and he writhes in excruciating pain."

Yet the father remained resolute, his eyes ablaze with unwavering determination. "His magic will protect him," he declared firmly, while the child struggled to stifle his sobs.

The child clung to the hope that his father's words held true, his mind racing with thoughts of his latent magical abilities. "My magic will save me," he frantically thought. "I must hold onto faith... Magic will shield me..."

An hour slipped by, but the child's condition only worsened. The pain now gripped him so fiercely that he felt as though he were being crushed beneath an unbearable weight. Each breath became a laborious struggle, his cries reduced to feeble gasps.

The second healer spoke up once more, her voice trembling with urgency. "Please, sir, allow me to help him. I have the very remedy he needs. A simple potion could make the difference."

But the father's response was swift and final. "SILENCE!" he bellowed, anger twisting his face as he glared at the healer. The child's eyes pleaded with his father, but his voice was stifled by violent fits of coughing.

Another hour slipped away, and the child's torment only deepened. The pain gnawed at him relentlessly, his desperate gasps for air filling the room, yet his father remained unmoved.

"YOUR SON IS DYING!" the elder healer screamed, her voice raw with emotion.

But the father remained unmoved. "Then let him perish!" he spat, his words oozing with contempt. "Unless he can muster his magic to aid himself, he is a squib unworthy of witnessing another sunrise!"

The child's heart sank as he absorbed his father's callous words. He felt utterly helpless, trapped within his own feeble body, and he knew that his magical abilities alone were insufficient to rescue him. His father turned away in disgust, abandoning him to the darkness. The boy's mother and the household servants followed suit, leaving the room in a procession of heartless departure.

As the door closed behind them, the child was left abandoned in the suffocating darkness, his body wracked with pain and his spirit consumed by despair. The healers exchanged panicked glances, their faces etched with fear. The eldest among them wiped his forehead with a trembling hand, tears glistening in his eyes. He cast a sorrowful glance at the boy, his voice quivering as he spoke. "I am truly sorry," he whispered softly. "Be brave, be strong." With that, he hastily departed, followed by the other healers, their footsteps echoing ominously within the desolate chamber.

The boy watched them vanish, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to scream, to plead for them to stay, but his voice failed him. The room spun around him, and he felt himself plunging into an abyss of unrelenting terror and despair. His throat burned, raw, and constricted, every breath a searing agony. Why had they forsaken him? Was he so worthless, so insignificant, that they couldn't spare a moment of their time for him? Why had they brought him into this cruel, heartless world, only to abandon him to die alone, in torment?

As he lay there, his body convulsing with spasms of pain, he sensed the remnants of his strength slipping away. His vision dimmed, and the world turned frigid and dark. He knew, with a harrowing certainty, that death loomed before him. And yet, even in the face of impending demise, he clung to a solitary, desperate hope: that somehow, somewhere, someone would find him, and rescue him from the clutches of this eternal, suffocating abyss.

Sirius slowly regained consciousness, groaning as he opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by complete darkness. His heart raced as he attempted to move, but the realization hit him hard—he was naked and chained to an iron pole in the center of a cave. The cave itself was massive, with a ceiling so high that it disappeared into the blackness above. The feeble light emitted by a few flickering torches only served to cast eerie shadows on the cavern walls. The air was damp and musty, carrying a faint smell of decay that made Sirius want to retch.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Sirius's gaze fell upon five hooded figures standing ominously behind an older man—a man he recognized as the father of the child he had encountered years ago, though time had clearly taken its toll. The man's face was twisted with rage and seething with hatred, rendering him almost unrecognizable. With a nod from the father, the hooded figures advanced toward Sirius, their wands raised high and ready. The sound of their footsteps reverberated through the cave, amplifying the growing sense of dread that consumed Sirius.

The cave seemed to swallow all sound, save for the haunting whispers of the hooded figures. Their voices were low and guttural as if invoking an ancient evil from the depths of the earth. Sirius knew that he was trapped in a nightmarish scenario, held captive in this monstrous cave with no escape. The cave was a place of shadows and secrets, where fear and pain clung to the very air. Suddenly, the silence shattered as the sound of chains rattling echoed through the cave, betraying the boy's anticipation of what was to arrive. His father stood before him, his gaze unyielding and fixed upon his son.

"Begin," his father's low, menacing voice commanded, and the others raised their wands in unison. A blast of cold air swept through the cave as they cried out, "Crucio!" The teenager's agonized screams filled the air, reverberating off the walls, amplifying the horrific scene. In a desperate attempt to silence his cries, the boy bit down hard on his lip, while the chains dug into his flesh and his toes curled in pain.

His father's gaze held no mercy, only contempt, and disgust. The teenager could feel the waves of hatred emanating from him, a tangible force that threatened to suffocate him. Despite the unbearable pain, he endured, his nostrils flaring with each gasping breath, his eyes locked on his father's hateful glare as he kept his lips tightly closed. The men intensified their spell, their voices rising in a chorus of malice and cruelty. The pain grew to an unbearable level, tearing through the teenager's body like a searing blade. It was as if he were being consumed by the fire of their hate, and he knew he could not endure much longer.

Finally, unable to bear the torment any longer, the teenager's cry of agony pierced the air. Sirius' consciousness was expelled from the wand, and he collapsed to the ground, panting and gasping for air. His heart pounded in his chest, his body wracked with pain and the weight of the hatred he had witnessed.


Lying on his back, Sirius's eyes fixated on the abandoned wand a few feet away, nestled in the grass. Despite the intensity of his curiosity, a sickening wave of pain washed over him, causing him to wince and grit his teeth. Unable to resist, he whispered, "To whom did you belong? What in the world was all that?" He then closed his eyes, pressing his palms against his forehead, as the migraine that had plagued him for days returned with a vengeance, rendering him helpless beneath its crushing weight.

Stepping into the Inn's tavern the morning after their arrival, Sirius immediately noticed the stark contrast in the atmosphere. The once raucous space now hung in an eerie stillness. Casting a glance around, he realized that only a handful of patrons remained, all appearing to be fellow travelers who had spent the night at the Inn.

Just as Sirius began to absorb his surroundings, a sudden commotion erupted behind him. Before he could even turn, he felt the embrace of two pairs of arms encircling him tightly. Red and Mikhail had rushed over, their faces a mix of relief and concern.

"Sirius! You're finally back!" Red's voice erupted with genuine relief.

"We were so worried about you," Mikhail added, his expression mirroring his worry.

"Piss off!", Sirius grunted, freeing himself from their embrace as they mocked him.

As they sat down to eat, Sirius's attention was drawn to a man sitting alone at the counter. With a pale, thin face and a prominent hooked nose, he seemed to be in his mid-thirties. The man repeatedly stole furtive glances in their direction, and when their eyes met, he left his spot and approached their table, a shy smile gracing his lips.

"Good morning! I apologize for interrupting your meal, Mr. Black, but I couldn't leave without shaking your hand," the man said, extending his right hand to Sirius.

Sirius glanced at Red and Mikhail, quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, and shook the man's hand before replying, "Hello there!"

"Quirinus Quirrell! It's a pleasure to meet you," Quirrell introduced himself.

"Likewise! These are Red and Mikhail. Please take a seat; it's nice to meet a fellow countryman so far away from England and be able to converse in English again," Sirius greeted them warmly.

Mikhail retorted, "Do Red and I speak Chinese, asshole?"

"I meant a native speaker," Sirius clarified.

"I'm from Chicago," Red interjected, scowling at Sirius.

"That's not real English... Quirinus! You look familiar. Were we at Hogwarts together?" Sirius inquired.

"I was three years below you in Ravenclaw," Quirinus answered. "Until recently, I was teaching Muggle Studies, but I resigned after the term ended."

"Why?" Sirius probed.

"Well, the job traps you in a monotonous routine, dealing with teenagers. So, I decided to leave and focus on my personal project," Quirinus explained.

"What project brings you to Romania?" Mikhail asked curiously.

"I'm actually heading towards Albania. There is a vampire colony in the Black Forest that I want to contact," Quirinus replied.

"If it's vampires you're interested in, we could have introduced you to one earlier," Red added with a smirk.

"Oh, what a shame... However, that's very kind of you. As they say, it's the journey that counts," Quirinus remarked.

"Do you want to study them?" Sirius inquired.

"I would be satisfied if I could make contact with them, perhaps interview their leader," Quirinus responded.

"That's quite a leap... I mean, from studying Muggles to vampires. Would you not agree?" Sirius questioned.

"Yes, I'll give you that! But I've always wanted to specialize in the Dark Arts. To be honest, and if you promise not to tell Professor Dumbledore about it..." Quirinus trailed off.

"We won't say anything. I promise!" Sirius assured him.

"Alright... The only reason I applied for the Muggle Studies job was to have unrestricted access to Hogwarts' library reserve. Something I wasn't granted as a student, since I wasn't admitted into the Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT class," Quirrell confessed.

"I would have done the same! Professor! Three months of holidays in the summer, plus fifteen days at Easter and another fifteen days for Christmas!" Sirius exclaimed. "Besides, now that Remus is there too, I would have spent my free time annoying him, then throwing the blame on Peeves!" Sirius pounded his fist on the table.

"Is that your dream job?" Mikhail asked.

"You could! The schools urgently need a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again. They say you scored the highest grades on your NEWTs in the subject, so I guess you could apply," Quirinus suggested.

"Really? Again? Can't they keep one teacher for two years in a row?" Sirius grumbled.

"Unfortunately, it seems impossible... However, you would probably compete with Severus because he applies every year... Dumbledore keeps promising him the job if no one applies a week before classes start. That said, if you are truly interested, you better hurry!" Quirinus advised.

"Severus?" Sirius frowned, wincing at the mention of the name.

"Yes, Severus Snape, the Potions Master. You must know who the man is, considering he was in your class but a Slytherin," Quirinus reminded him.

"Severus Snape is teaching at Hogwarts?" Sirius exclaimed.

"Yes, for a little over five years now," Quirinus confirmed.

"How crazy is Dumbledore to give a job to someone who will be teaching Harry Potter in six years!" Sirius exclaimed.

"A friend of yours?" Red asked.

"Go fuck yourself, Red... What the hell is Remus doing? Why doesn't he take the job? He already lives there!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Forgive me if I upset you; that was not my intention," Quirinus apologized.

"It's not your fault," Sirius said. "It's all Snape's fault... Anyway, how much time will you be staying around?"

"I was about to head back to my room and pick up my bag when I saw you," Quirinus said.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Quirinus! Take care of yourself and let's say until we meet again?" Sirius said with a smile.

"The pleasure was mine... Yes, until we meet again!" Quirinus replied with a smile before shaking hands and leaving.


Initially, the trio had planned to spend just a solitary night at the quaint Inn, nestled deep within the verdant hills. However, Red and Mikhail, the wearier of the bunch, vehemently opposed the idea and demanded a day of rest, citing the significant distance they had covered since departing from Brasov. Sirius, still recuperating from an exhausting morning training, eventually relented to their entreaties, albeit not before making it abundantly clear that any tardiness in meeting the Sanctuary's director would be solely attributed to their delayed departure.

The following day, after a well-deserved respite, they awoke at the crack of dawn, meticulously packed their knapsacks with provisions, and made their way towards the exit, bidding a courteous farewell to the Inn's keeper. For reasons unknown, their journey that day was almost entirely devoid of any human interaction, save for a friendly fox and a handful of industrious squirrels. The path itself sloped downwards in a steady gradient, culminating in a vast, flat expanse that posed a more formidable challenge to traverse.

At first, they had moved with a brisk pace, their wands helping them navigate the rugged terrain as they made their way through the winding path. However, as they progressed further, the terrain grew increasingly treacherous, causing their pace to slow considerably. Undeterred, Sirius flashed a reassuring smile and quipped, "The ground is getting more and more complicated! It's a good sign!"

Red and Mikhail exchanged a bemused glance at Sirius's words, but they couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at his optimism. The path they were on had become increasingly challenging, with sharp rocks and fallen branches littering the ground, making it difficult to find a steady foothold. Despite the difficulties, they pressed on, determined to reach their destination.

As they descended further down the winding path, the scenery around them began to shift, giving way to a vast expanse of flat land that was much more difficult to traverse. The once lush trees that surrounded them were replaced by a sea of tall grass that swayed gently in the wind, making it difficult to see what lay ahead.

They walked for hours, with nothing but the sound of their footsteps and the occasional rustling of the grass to keep them company. It was a desolate and lonely place, and they began to wonder if they had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

Despite the uncertainty, they pushed forward, the thought of the Sanctuary's director waiting for them at the end of their journey driving them on. They would not be deterred by the challenges that lay ahead.

Sirius couldn't help but smile as he looked down at the increasingly complex terrain beneath their feet. He turned to Red and Mikhail, wands at the ready, and said, "Here's where things get interesting folks. The terrain might be more complex, but that just means we're getting closer to our destination,"

"Why is the path being difficult, good news?", Red asked, his forehead bristling with sweat.

"It's not a natural obstacle, Red. It's intentionally designed to prevent muggles from getting close to the reserve. The authorities have manipulated the surroundings, forcing them to choose a different route," Sirius explained.

Mikhail rolled his eyes and replied, "You know what, Sirius? Even wizards don't take this path. They use flying brooms or apparition to reach the reserve because they're not FUCKING idiots."

Sirius smirked and quipped, "When are you ever not complaining, Mikhail?"

Mikhail chose to remain silent, but his middle finger gesture expressed her feelings quite effectively.

As they continued forward, the terrain gradually started to incline. In the east, a range of hills came into view, with the highest one slightly separated from the rest. Its peak had a cone shape with a slightly flattened ridge.

"We're almost there!" Sirius announced, pointing towards the hilltop.

"Finally!" Red and Mikhail cheered simultaneously.

After an hour-long ascent, they reached the summit around noon. Catching their breath and taking in the breathtaking views, their attention was drawn to a massive rock face towering before them. It was the same smooth, unblemished wall that Ludvik had vividly described to them.

"Go ahead, Sirius, open the door!" Red urged him.

Sirius walked towards the rocky wall, running his hand over its surface in search of the lock. When he couldn't find it, he stepped back and drew his wand, pointing it directly at the rock. "Revelio," he whispered, and a small section of the rock face illuminated. As they approached the lit area, they noticed a tiny crack that seemed to be the keyhole they were looking for.

Sirius rummaged through his pockets, first one, then the other, before placing his bag down and searching inside it. "Oh, shit!" he muttered quietly.

"What's wrong?" Mikhail asked, looking concerned.

"I've lost the key," Sirius admitted, his expression filled with disappointment. "I must have dropped it somewhere this morning when I took out the map or my water bottle."

"WHAT?!" Red and Mikhail exclaimed, their faces reddening with anger.

"We've been walking all morning for nothing?" Red shouted, his voice echoing through the mountain.

"What do we do now?!" Mikhail cried, his frustration mounting.

"I'm just taking the piss!" Sirius announced with a wide grin, pulling the small silver key out of his back pocket. "I put it in my back pocket, so it scratches my butt as I walk. It is such a satisfying feeling! You should see your faces - you look like two trolls trying to solve an arithmancy exam."

"I don't know what's stopping me from..." Mikhail started, his eyes flashing with anger.

"scratching my butt?" Sirius finished his sentence with a chuckle.

"You know, if we kill you here, nobody would know," Red said, his tone deadly serious. "Mikhail can go back to Russia, and I can return to the United States..."

"If I wanted, I would beat you up with my hands tied behind my back," Sirius retorted, inserting the key into the lock. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Red and Mikhail replied in unison.

"I said, ARE YOU READY?" Sirius demanded, a mischievous grin on his face.

"OPEN IT!" they yelled, kicking his back.


Ministry of Magic,

Aurors Office,

5 am:

The flicker of light was mesmerizing, a brilliant display of radiance that ebbed and flowed with a curious mix of diffuse and concentrated power. It cast a low glow that almost leveled with Rufus Scrimgeour's desk, as he sat in the shadows, studying the report in his hand. The atmosphere was tense but also charged with a palpable energy that hinted at the gravity of the matter at hand. Just beyond the halo of light, Rufus could see the tall, imposing figure of Kingsley, who had just delivered a concise summary of the day's chase. Kingsley's voice was calm, but his words held a weight that couldn't be ignored.

Rufus leaned forward; his eyes fixed on Kingsley as he delivered the report. As Kingsley finished his summary, a hush fell over the room, and Rufus took a deep breath before cynically inquiring, "And how is the man faring?"

Kingsley's tone was grim as he delivered his report. "The Italian is currently in a coma with multiple facial fractures. St. Mungo's has been contacted, and they are attempting a skin graft on his face to address the damage."

Scrimgeour's concern was evident as he inquired about the other victim. "And what about the other person who was injured?"

Kingsley's response was equally bleak. "He was crushed by muggle cars."

"How did it happen?" Scrimgeour asked, his voice reflecting a sense of disbelief.

"He fell off his broom. It was a dispute between hooligans. Among the Scottish supporters, there were individuals from Falkirk who still haven't gotten over their elimination against Spezia two years ago. As an act of revenge, the two hooligans killed the man with a machete," Kingsley explained, his words carrying a heavy weight of sorrow and anger.

Scrimgeour was at a loss for words. "All of this for a Quidditch game?"

Kingsley's response was blunt. "Yes, boss. The Department of Magical Games and Sports failed to recognize the severity of the situation and did not take enough precautions. The HIT brigade was not adequately staffed to contain the situation, and things spiraled out of control. However, we arrived promptly and were able to corner the perpetrators on the highway before they could approach the city," he recounted.

After a brief pause, Kingsley offered, "You'll find every detail in my report, at least everything that has happened and is known at this time. We will likely gather more information after the interviews are concluded."

Scrimgeour nodded his approval. "Good job, Schaklebolt."

"Thank you, sir," Kingsley responded. "If you're finished with me, I would like to call it a day."

Scrimgeour remained silent, gazing out the window at the strange patterns etched onto the facades of nearby offices by the pale, chalky moon. Kingsley's voice broke the stillness. "Why did you summon me here in the middle of the night? When you called, you couldn't have known about the altercation. What's the reason?" he inquired.

Scrimgeour's silhouette remained motionless. Rufus Scrimgeour had assumed leadership of the Aurors' office following Moody's retirement, despite objections from Fudge. The rest of the Aurors had given their approval, and when rumors began circulating about Scrimgeour's appointment, no one else had applied for the position in the Ministry.

"There has been a murder," Scrimgeour finally stated.

"In London?" Kingsley asked.

"No, in a town near Liverpool," Scrimgeour replied.

Kingsley took a seat and faced Scrimgeour. "I'm all ears."

"They discovered the body late yesterday afternoon. He was buried between some rocks above a river that borders the village. Everything suggests the work of a maniac," Scrimgeour explained.

"What do we know about the victim?" Kingsley inquired.

"A Muggle man in his mid-thirties, born and raised there before moving to London for work. The body was found unclothed, showing signs of torture: cuts, wounds, burns... I've also heard of strangulation," Scrimgeour said, resting his elbows on the desk and fiddling with an ashtray.

"Why are you telling me this?" Kingsley asked.

"Because I want you to go there," Scrimgeour replied.

"Me?!"

"You and your entire team," Scrimgeour added.

"Why? Is it even a wizard-related murder?" Kingsley questioned.

"I still can't say for sure, even though the state of the body suggests a Muggle murder... I mean, why would a wizard bother subjecting him to all that? Moreover, why leave the body behind?" Scrimgeour said.

"So why do you want to send an Auror and his team to investigate?" Kingsley probed.

"The Muggle Prime Minister contacted Fudge, and it seems she's not entirely convinced that the Dark Lord is truly gone, nor that all his followers are in custody. Can we really blame her? Losing to a toddler? Anyway, Fudge insists on sending an Auror there to verify the nature of the crime and reassure her. So, go there, wrap it up, and come back," Scrimgeour instructed.

"Alright, I'll take care of it in the morning... which is in two hours. However, I'd rather go alone. My team is still busy interrogating all the individuals we apprehended this afternoon... and I'd prefer to handle this discreetly," Kingsley said.

"I don't care as long as you get the job done... Take this with you," Scrimgeour said, pulling out a leather wallet from a drawer in his desk and tossing it to Kingsley.

"What's this for?" Kingsley asked, opening the object to find a card with his credentials and a still picture of himself.

"It's a police force badge. You are now a Muggle chief inspector, and your team members are inspectors," Scrimgeour replied in a decisive tone.

"I hope they put some effort into it. Last time, the fellow didn't believe a single word from the file I received... I had to confuse him before erasing his memory. I'd rather avoid using magic on Muggles again," Kingsley commented, his accent carrying a trace of concern.

"It's an authentic badge, so there's no need to confuse anyone this time. The cover story is that you've been dispatched as backup due to the unique nature of the crime. I've coordinated with the Muggle Prime Minister to have our Aurors registered as special agents within their forces, on a confidential list. This way, we can avoid constantly modifying people's memories whenever we go somewhere. They've been complaining about their police officers experiencing burnout during the war. Can we blame them? Some Aurors went all out, and many officers ended up forgetting where they live or even their own children's names," Scrimgeour explained, sounding slightly bored.

"Very well then. I'll make sure to report back as soon as possible," Kingsley said, his tone resolute and determined.

"Make it swift. And don't forget, you have another obligation tomorrow," Scrimgeour reminded him, his words carrying a touch of urgency.

"Sir... Is it too late to assign Dawlish or another Auror to handle it?" Kingsley inquired with a hint of deference in his voice.

"Unfortunately, all the others are already occupied. You'd better get going; I expect results before lunchtime," Scrimgeour responded sternly.

"Yes, sir," Kingsley replied crisply before exiting the office, his footsteps echoing through the silent hallway.