CHAPTER: 1 STRATEGIS IN THE SHADOWS
It was an unfortunate but undeniable truth—striking parallels existed between Azkaban and 12 Grimmauld Place.
Many might dismiss such a notion as overly sentimental or even absurd. After all, how could a house—granted, a dilapidated, ominous mansion straight from a Muggle horror film—compare to the most dreaded wizarding prison in the world, where few, if any, emerged with their sanity, let alone their lives? While an Azkaban inmate could expect nothing more than a small, damp, grim, and joyless cell, Grimmauld Place did, at the very least, offer space, spanning three levels that could be explored by a weary, bored dweller.
However, the similarities became apparent upon closer inspection. The available space for wandering was as gloomy as the prison cell, adorned with dark, peeling wallpaper, a macabre collection of severed elf heads, and drab, threadbare furnishings—all equally inviting. While Azkaban housed some of the vilest creatures to ever roam the earth, Grimmauld Place had its own brand of malevolence and horror: a house-elf who roamed, muttering about Blood Traitors, Mudbloods, and their abominable masters, and a painting of a deceased, embittered old woman who berated anyone not meeting her exacting standards. In a word: everyone.
It might be seen as an uncharitable thought about his mother, but Sirius Black was nothing if not brutally honest. His life experiences had stripped away any inclination to make excuses for his less-than-exemplary relatives, even before his extended stay in Azkaban. His entire family, while most had not been Death Eaters, had harbored beliefs similar to Voldemort and his fanatical followers, and collectively, they had been as welcoming as a nest of hungry acromantulas—and almost as personable. Regrettably, the decor in their ancestral home had mirrored their attitudes perfectly. It had not been a cheerful place to grow up, especially for someone who had never subscribed to their ideals.
As the sun descended in the west, casting the room in soft pastels—blends of yellow, orange, and pink—the old house momentarily appeared more inviting than it ever did at any other time of day. The room itself was sizable, but like the rest of the house, the furnishings were threadbare. The wallpaper, where it remained intact, was faded and gray, hardly inspiring more than a passing glance and shiver. Yet, this room possessed one redeeming feature—it was home to his loyal companion, Buckbeak, the hippogriff who was as sought after as Sirius himself.
Sighing, Sirius gently stroked the slumbering hippogriff's head before reclining in his chair. He had always disliked this house, and he couldn't recollect spending more than fleeting moments in his mother's room as a child. Even then, the room had been decaying, mirroring the house's slow descent into ruin, much like the proud history of his family. For over four centuries, the Blacks had lived up to their ominous name, gradually losing their power as they supported dark causes and embraced Pureblood agendas. Now, he was the last of his once-mighty family to bear the Black name. Of his three cousins, one had been disowned, and all had married into different families, carrying different surnames.
He couldn't escape the painful truth that centuries of inbreeding had played a role in their downfall. His mother, for example, had been a Black by maiden name and a cousin of his father, Orion. Such matches had occurred far too frequently in his family tree, and Sirius had been determined, from a young age, to avoid repeating this pattern. Breaking free from dark ideologies and intermarriage, he hoped, would change his family's fate and provide a better upbringing for his children than he had experienced.
Sirius snorted bitterly, eliciting a reproachful glance from his faithful companion before Buckbeak settled back into his slumber. Sirius's gaze remained fixed on the room's walls, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down his cheek as he regretted the course his life had taken. There had once been so much promise, so much to look forward to, but it had all crumbled into ashes.
He reminisced about the dreams of a group of teenage boys, dreams that now seemed utterly out of reach. Their sons (naturally, the Marauders would all have first-born sons) were meant to play together, take Hogwarts by storm, uphold their fathers' legacy of pranks, mischief, and rivalry with the despised Slytherins. Their families were supposed to grow closer, forging a powerful force in the wizarding world, championing change and equality, making the world a better place.
But where were they now? Pettigrew, a traitor who had betrayed Sirius's best friend to their most hated enemy; Remus, prematurely aged by his condition and the life he had led; Sirius, condemned for most of his adult life for another's crimes; and James, gone for fourteen long years... all lost, their dreams nothing more than ashes.
James—how Sirius missed James! The Marauders had been inseparable in their mischief and adventures, though Peter had always been something of an outsider. Sirius and James had been as close as brothers, closer than Sirius had ever been to his own flesh and blood.
A rare smile graced Sirius's face as he recalled the day he first crossed paths with James. At eleven years old, Sirius had been both anxious about venturing into the wider world and equally terrified of remaining in the decrepit old house that had been his family's home. With limited knowledge beyond his parents' restrictive world and the few playmates from his parents' circle of friends, the young Sirius had only one certainty: the venomous Pureblood doctrines incessantly spewed by his mother had never resonated with him, even though his life experiences had been confined to the boundaries of his home.
Enter James Potter, an immediate political adversary of his family. Sirius couldn't help but be captivated by his new friend's self-assuredness and charismatic charm. Even at such a young age, James possessed an undeniable presence, a trait he would later see in James's son, Harry. Their friendship ignited instantly on that train to Hogwarts, and by the time they entered the venerable halls of the ancient school, Sirius knew precisely what had been missing from his life amid the scheming and hatred that filled his family's abode.
The Sorting Hat had certainly detected Sirius's defining trait, as he would soon discover. It took a considerable amount of bravery to defy Lady Walburga Black, after all. Not only had Sirius been the sole member of the Black family (apart from Aunt Andromeda) sorted into a house other than Slytherin (even his great-aunt Dorea, who had defied her parents by marrying a Potter, had been a Slytherin), but not even Andromeda had dared to be sorted into the despised house of Gryffindor alongside the Potters, Blood Traitors, and the enemies of the Black family for generations. News of his sorting had quickly reached his mother, who retaliated with a barrage of Howlers, vitriolic letters, and communications to the Headmaster, insisting he had made a grave error. His parents even made a Floo journey to Hogwarts, demanding the Headmaster redo the Sorting to place their eldest son back among "proper Pureblood wizards." Dumbledore refused her demands, and despite her raging anger and spite, the Headmaster stood firm, asserting that the Sorting Hat's decision was final, unless a student's placement within a house became untenable. This was not the case here.
Proclaiming that her son was betraying the family, Sirius's mother had to leave the school in defeat. Not before, however, she declared, in a venomous and resounding manner, that he was not welcome to return home for Christmas.
"You may stay with the traitors and cowards if it means so much to you, but in my house, you are not wanted."
To this day, Sirius could vividly recall the exact words of her denunciation, the madness in her eyes, the spittle that flew from her foaming lips, and his father's icy, disapproving gaze that remained unwavering.
Sirius chuckled, reflecting on how his mother had always been the family's spokesperson, while his father had often stood by silently in disapproval. In fact, his father, a grim, gaunt figure, rarely, in Sirius's memory, spoke up or distinguished himself in any way. Sirius couldn't be sure if this was by choice or necessity, but he suspected that his father was a stark example of the consequences of inbreeding. There was simply nothing remarkable or memorable about him.
As a result, detached from his family, the young Sirius would have been adrift were it not for his newfound friendship with James Potter. Quick to identify the problem, James had promptly sent a message to his father, receiving a response the following day that included an invitation for Sirius to join the Potter family for Christmas. From that point forward, they were inseparable, becoming the kind of soul-brothers that James had never had and sharing a bond that Sirius had never experienced with his own brother, Regulus.
Of course, Lord Potter had been somewhat reserved and challenging to get to know, which was hardly surprising given his lifelong enmity with the Black family. Yet, once Sirius had the chance to become acquainted with the man, he had almost become a surrogate father to a young boy in need of a role model. In a way, James's father was as responsible for shaping the man Sirius had become as James himself—and certainly more so than his own father or any other family members could be credited, even if they had desired to claim the credit. This was considering the fact that Sirius had essentially abandoned centuries of family political and philosophical ideologies. Though he was occasionally summoned back to his parents' home over the years (usually in an attempt to convince him of the "errors of his ways"), Sirius spent most of his time with James's family. He was formally disowned by his family at the age of sixteen. His father passed away just a year after he completed his education at Hogwarts, and his mother followed five years later. While his mother had disowned him, it was supremely ironic that his father had never made it official, perhaps sensing that his younger son, Regulus, was not destined for a long life as a minion of the Dark Lord (a prophetic insight in retrospect). Due to his incarceration, which was illegal due to his lack of conviction for any crime, Sirius retained his rights as Lord Black upon his father's death, regardless of his time in prison. If his father had officially disowned him, Draco Malfoy, as the nearest relation to his father, would have assumed the title of Lord Black, significantly bolstering the already prosperous, albeit relatively young, family's fortunes and prestige.
The portrait of his mother now hung in the entrance hall of the old house, a constant reminder that it seemed placed there solely to torment Sirius. The first time he had ventured back into the house after his escape from Azkaban, his mother had praised him for finally "seeing the light" and betraying the Potters to his so-called rightful lord. Her malicious and contemptuous visage had fairly glowed with delight at the thought of his closest friend's demise. The echoes of her shrieks still rang in his ears from the moment he had told her, his voice dripping with disdain, that he had not betrayed his friends and considered the monster she so readily praised as the lowest form of scum. Only the memory of her outrage brought a faint smile to his lips, as he finally gave the old woman the scolding he had longed to deliver during her lifetime.
As much as he relished provoking his mother's portrait, Sirius found his mind wandering once again. His thoughts drifted back to his lost friend, and the ever-present melancholy settled once more into his soul. The death of James had left a void that still felt like an open wound, even now, more than thirteen years later. Sirius had hoped to begin healing by forming a relationship with James's son—his godson—once his name had been cleared and he could fulfill his responsibilities as Harry's godfather. But, once again, things had gone awry.
Sirius cursed his own foolishness loudly. If only he had thought to keep Pettigrew bound and unconscious until he could hand him over to the proper authorities. Ensuring that the rat received the punishment he deserved for his nefarious deeds would have changed everything. With Pettigrew proven to be alive, Sirius was convinced the Wizengamot would finally be forced to grant him the long-delayed trial, and the miscarriage of justice could have been overturned with Veritaserum. Then, he could have gained custody of Harry and started fulfilling the vow he had made to James as a young man: to protect and watch over his young son. The nagging doubts in the back of his mind, suggesting he hadn't been in any shape at the time to be responsible for a teenage boy, were conveniently pushed into the depths of his consciousness and ignored.
No, instead, the rat had escaped, and Sirius was condemned to continue this half-life, hiding, skulking, and evading the authorities as the most hunted man in magical Britain. He yearned desperately for a way to be useful, not only to Harry but also in the fight against Voldemort. His forced exile was beginning to wear on his nerves, which had already been battered by years of exposure to Dementors.
The first few months of his freedom had been trying, but he had persevered, driven by the need to protect his godson and bring the traitor Pettigrew to justice. Although he had failed in the latter goal, Harry's safety was the paramount concern, and Dumbledore had convinced him to find a safe haven where he could begin to heal. His stay in the South Pacific had been restful and soothing, but his return to Britain, prompted by Harry's participation in the Triwizard Tournament, had placed him back on the run. Unable to bear being far from Harry during the tournament trials, Sirius had resumed his Animagus form and hidden out in a cave in the nearby mountains. He wanted to be close to Harry in case his godson needed him, even if his mere presence could boost the boy's confidence in the wretched tournament. Between trying to support Harry and delving into James's old papers at Grimmauld Place to find a way to improve Harry's life and take on his role as guardian (albeit in secret), Sirius had managed to stay occupied enough that his own troubles had temporarily taken a backseat and been largely forgotten.
However, once those matters had been resolved, it was back to Grimmauld Place, and this time, there was no escape from the detestable old house. Even though he longed to return to the South Pacific and bask on the beach, Dumbledore had cautioned against it. Now that Voldemort had returned, despite Fudge's official denial of it, the Ministry was on high alert, looking for any signs of him leaving the country. Grimmauld had effectively become his prison, much like Azkaban before it.
The most torturous aspect of his situation was the gnawing feeling of uselessness that consumed him. He wanted—needed—to be of use to his godson. He had made a promise to James when Harry was born, and he had failed to fulfill it due to his impulsive decision to pursue Wormtail instead of caring for Harry, as was his duty. He couldn't know for sure if he would have been thrown into Azkaban without trial for betraying James and Lily, but at the very least, he would have been more coherent when the authorities arrived, rather than standing dazed amidst a warzone, shackled, and taken away before he fully grasped what was happening. He had let Harry down once, but he was determined not to repeat the mistake.
Harry—Sirius marveled at how close they had become in such a short time. The adventure at the end of Harry's third year had forged an unbreakable bond between them, one that could only have been forged under the most trying of circumstances. Despite the limited time they had spent together, their connection had only grown stronger. Looking at his godson, Sirius couldn't help but be amazed by the resemblance between Harry and his parents. He had Lily's features, most notably her eyes, which everyone commented on, but otherwise, he was the spitting image of his father. With brown eyes, Harry would have been nearly indistinguishable from James.
In temperament, though, Harry was more like his mother than his father. Lily had been introspective and studious, quiet until provoked, and then, like a storm, tempestuous in her fury but quick to calm once her anger had dissipated. Although Harry lacked the confidence of his mother, his quiet and introverted nature eerily mirrored hers. James, on the other hand, had been brash and self-assured, even at the age of eleven. He was prone to mischief, as evidenced by his later years as a Marauder, and, to be honest, something of a bully until age and experience mellowed his youthful exuberance. In other words, nothing like his quiet son, though Sirius suspected Harry's experiences with the Dursleys had played a significant role in shaping his demeanor. The mere thought of those dreadful relatives filled Sirius with rage. If he had any say in it, Harry's removal from their house at the end of the summer would be their last.
Realizing that his anger wouldn't change anything, Sirius forced himself to calm down and return to his thoughts about the past. Another central figure in Lily and James's lives had been the dark and brooding potions master, Severus Snape. Sirius knew that much of the tension between James and Snape, and the subsequent events, could be attributed to their vastly different temperaments and reactions to each other. Snape had instantly dismissed James as an arrogant Pureblood (and to be honest, Sirius had to concede that there was some truth to that assessment), while James had responded in kind, dubbing Snape a "greasy git" and an antisocial loner (in this case, James had been entirely accurate). The
Without a doubt, this had led to an escalation in the rivalry between the two antagonists, and Snape's openly hostile and vindictive behavior toward James had been reciprocated by the Marauders. The breaking point had come during their sixth year when their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had made the ill-fated decision to pair them off for a dueling exercise in class. Unsurprisingly, insults had been hurled back and forth, inappropriate hexes and curses had been exchanged, and the confrontation had devolved into a full-blown battle between the two, landing both of them in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had intervened, taking both Snape and James aside and warning them sternly that their bitter feud had no place within Hogwarts. He made it clear that any further clashes between them would result in severe consequences, possibly including expulsion.
Their relationship after that point could only be described as a cold war. They avoided each other, and their professors ensured they were never paired together or left alone, especially given the volatile mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin students. This standoff continued until late in their seventh year when Snape's allegiance to the Death Eaters became evident. Sirius and Remus had discussed it and then confronted Snape one night just before curfew, without informing James or Lily of their intentions. The encounter had demonstrated the perils of crossing the Marauders, and they issued an ultimatum to Snape: stay away from Lily and James, and any attempt to contact them or harm them under Voldemort's orders would be met with lethal force. The memory of Snape, pale and trembling in the corridor where they left him, was etched into Sirius's memory almost a decade and a half later.
From that moment on, Snape had avoided the Marauders diligently. However, even though he couldn't prove it, Sirius suspected that Snape had played a role in James and Lily's betrayal. Whether he had somehow overcome their mutual animosity to recruit Peter or had provided information to Voldemort that had been crucial in targeting the Potters specifically, Sirius couldn't say for sure. But the memory of Snape on their last day of seventh year remained with him, a look of vengeful determination etched on his face. If Sirius ever discovered the truth about the events leading to his friends' deaths, not even Merlin could protect Snape from his wrath.
The sound of a chime interrupted Sirius's thoughts, and he stood up and stretched. While he had donated the old manor to the Order for use as a safe house (primarily occupied by himself and Buckbeak), it saw limited traffic aside from regular Order meetings. Sirius often found himself lost in solitary musings, so he welcomed any interruption that could break the monotony of his life.
Giving Buckbeak a final pat on the head, which the hippogriff responded to with a soft wuff, Sirius exited the room and descended the stairs into the main ground floor hallway. His arrival triggered the portrait of his mother into fits of rage, berating him once again for his "regrettable" choices. But Sirius merely grinned cheekily and saluted her before walking away, leaving the silenced portrait fuming in frustration. For once, the silence suited Sirius perfectly. Smiling to himself and relishing the opportunity to taunt his mother's portrait, Sirius entered the front sitting room, where the fireplace was located.
However, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. While it was not uncommon for Dumbledore to visit Grimmauld Place unannounced, the usual twinkle in the headmaster's eye and grandfatherly smile were conspicuously absent. Dumbledore's demeanor exuded concern and anxiety.
"Ah, Sirius, I was about to seek you out," Dumbledore greeted him as he settled into one of the armchairs. The headmaster's hunched shoulders and uncharacteristic weariness betrayed his current state.
After observing Dumbledore's troubled expression for several moments, Sirius finally took a seat, bracing himself for whatever news had shaken the usually composed man. "What's wrong, Albus? I assume this isn't a social visit."
Dumbledore shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing deeply. "I wish it were, but alas, it appears to be the beginning of a more troubling situation."
"It's Harry, isn't it?"
Dumbledore chuckled ruefully, reminding Sirius once again how much Harry was at the center of their concerns. "Yes, Sirius, it is. I have just spent several hours in an emergency session of the Wizengamot, attempting to overturn the Ministry's decision to expel young Mr. Potter from Hogwarts."
Sirius was utterly taken aback by Dumbledore's words. "Expelled from Hogwarts?"
"I managed to convince them to allow him to present his side of the story, though it was not an easy task and may have depleted what little political capital I have left."
"I think you'd better start from the beginning, Albus," Sirius urged, still bewildered as to why the Ministry would even consider expelling his godson from Hogwarts. "What happened?"
Dumbledore sighed once more, his weariness evident. "It appears that this afternoon, young Harry and his cousin, Dudley, were attacked by Dementors."
Dementors were the last thing Sirius had expected to hear. "Dementors? In Little Whinging?"
"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore confirmed.
"Is Harry all right?"
"Harry is unharmed. You've seen his Patronus; two Dementors pose little threat to him."
"But why? How did Dementors end up so far from Azkaban?"
"Unfortunately, I have no answers, Sirius. I was alerted by Arthur Weasley late this afternoon; he had learned of the Trace detection and the actions taken against Harry by the Improper Use of Magic Office. I Apparated to Little Whinging immediately and spoke with Harry myself. Although Harry wasn't greatly affected, his cousin Dudley suffered greatly from the attack."
"And then?"
"I promptly went to the Ministry, but by then, the expulsion notice had already been issued."
Sirius and Dumbledore's conversation left Sirius deeply concerned about Harry's situation and the precarious state of the wizarding world. The Ministry's refusal to acknowledge Voldemort's return and their treatment of Harry as a criminal instead of a victim were clear signs that things were spiraling out of control. Sirius knew that they needed to act swiftly and decisively to protect Harry and others like him.
Dumbledore's mention of Harry's destiny and the hidden knowledge he possessed only added to Sirius's determination to help his godson. He felt a growing responsibility not just as Harry's godfather but as someone who had a unique perspective on the situation, having been wrongfully imprisoned for years and knowing the corruption that could exist within the Ministry.
His conversation with Jean-Sebastian, an ally he had made during his time on the run, further solidified his resolve. They discussed plans, strategies, and the importance of taking action to protect Harry and thwart Voldemort's rise to power. Sirius understood that they couldn't afford to be passive observers; they had to play an active role in shaping the future.
As Sirius lay down to rest, he felt a sense of purpose and determination. He had taken the first steps to help Harry and the wizarding world, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The road would be difficult and dangerous, but he was committed to making a difference.
Meanwhile, Jean-Sebastian, in another country, grappled with the weight of the decisions they were making. He understood the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of their actions. While it wasn't his native country facing Voldemort's threat, he recognized that the global wizarding community was interconnected, and the rise of the Dark Lord posed a threat to everyone.
His personal debt to Harry Potter weighed heavily on him, and he was determined to honor that debt by doing everything in his power to protect the young wizard. Jean-Sebastian knew that sacrifices would have to be made, and he was prepared to make them. He called upon his resources and began the preparations necessary to assist Harry and those who would join their cause.
The fate of the wizarding world hung in the balance, and Sirius and Jean-Sebastian were just two individuals among many who would play a crucial role in the coming struggle. Their actions would have far-reaching consequences, and they were committed to doing whatever it took to ensure that Voldemort's reign of terror would be defeated, once and for all.
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