The bathroom cabinets were as messy as the living room and the bedroom she had at the other house - full of random knick-knacks, from dried herbs to pieces of string, scissors in a multitude of colors and all manners of small glass vials full of who-knows-what. Sirius certainly had no idea, as all of the labels were almost unreadable from water and steam. Finally, however, he was successful, after opening a small box and finding what he had been arduously looking for for seemingly an eternity. Razors.
Sirius had used blunt, forgotten, dropped razors to chop at his beard and hair while in Azkaban. When it got unseemingly long, he'd whack at it, at a safe distance from his face and neck. Now, however, he finally had the chance to use a fresh one, and he slowly started shaving his beard, as careful as he could possibly be.
He recalled many a time visiting his uncle Alphard as a young boy, and his cabinets of all kinds of pomades, oils, and waxes. He recalled how he would nick some each time he visited, just to have the smell of what he thought was 'adulthood' stick with him.
It would be just a few months after he had moved in with James's family that he would receive an owl and find out that none other than good old uncle Al left him everything he had in his will. And instead of having to rely on James, he managed to get his own place. He managed to become a full-time Order Member, spend as much as he could with those close to him, and as much time and money as he wanted for the good of the Order, without ever worrying about the cost of it.
And for what? James is dead. You spent all the time after your own side won in prison, forgotten by everyone. Yet rightly so - out of your own idiocy you-
He was so close. On that fateful night, he was so close. If it weren't for Snape. If it weren't for Wormtail slithering away. If it weren't for that goddamn rat sneaking away. If it weren't for the Dementors, and if it weren't for Fudge…
Sirius cleaned the razor, and tried to remove the thoughts away from his head. Nothing he could do now. He had no possibility to turn back time, and no leads to start hunting Pettigrew. He doubted any Death Eaters were even aware he was alive, and doubted they would treat him very kindly after finding out he spent all of that time hidden as a rat, and did nothing more than eat, sleep and shit.
With one of the many scissors he found, he started cutting his hair until it reached around his shoulders, and waved his wand to clean after him.
"Good enough." he whispered to himself. Looking in the mirror was still a painful reminder of how gaunt and starved he looked, how waxy and yellowed his skin was, but at least he found himself more presentable. He felt less ashamed of himself, when looking into his own reflection in the living room downstairs, compared to the witch, whose face was healthy, rosy, whose cheeks were full and whose clothes were ironed and silken - the complete opposite of him.
At least now, with the clothes she had bought, with a wand he could call his, and now with a shaved face, he managed, in a very long time, to feel human again.
No sooner had he left the bathroom, however, that he was back inside it, sitting on a chair as Magdalena was combing his hair. Apparently he had done quite a dreadful job at cutting his own hair, and only now, looking again in the mirror, did he realize how lopsided it indeed was.
From the open window, the same melody as last night started again. The singer did not seem to accompany the violinist this time, however the witch started humming it as she started cutting.
"They were singing that last night."
"So they were …" she responded idly, lightly moving his head to the right.
"Do you understand what they're singing?"
"It's a song about longing. Wondering where someone's lover is. It's… about sorrow, and loss. They can feel the person, see their eyes, but nothing more, and they don't know for how long to wait more..." she explained. "A lot of these songs were made around the war, most of them about loss, as you can imagine. A lot of foreign wizards were here and fought on Dumbledore's side during the wars. They're still singing the songs from all those years ago, to remind themselves of the others who fell."
"So they just sing them like that… in their gardens?" he chuckled, amused.
"Don't be ridiculous." with both hands, she arranged his head again, continuing to cut. "They're rehearsing. We have our own places… we don't hang out much around English wizards, we have our own pubs and bars and restaurants, and quarters."
"To be honest, I haven't met many foreign wizards myself. Not while in Azkaban I mean - I mean, before. In Hogwarts."
"I'll take you one day. You'd like it, I think. You know… they sing victorious songs too… about Harry Potter too, about the defeat of evil. Not that you'd understand much of it… most songs aren't in English. Everyone sings to their community, not for strangers. They don't like the Ministry much… Well, we don't."
Sirius pondered what she had just said, before a thought finally dawned on him. Was that why Dumbledore, when needing someone fast, thought of a foreign wizard? It made perfect sense. No known connections with him or Sirius, apart from the Order. Already distrustful of the Ministry. With a smirk, he shared his realization with her, and she nodded.
"He never said much about why, but that's probably it, yes. And if you need to leave the country, if your life is in danger, I have my own connections outside of Britain. I can get you out of here, safely, and quickly. I have a house, deep in the Romanian mountains… it would take them months to track you. But you could ask him yourself."
Sirius nodded absentmindedly, happy when she had finally finished with his hair, as he could stop actively avoiding having to look at himself in the mirror. He idly tousled his hair as he left the bedroom, stopping in his tracks as he reached the staircase. He had a vague memory of Dumbledore saying he would come by - or was it a dream? Was it something the witch mentioned, or something Dumbledore had perhaps told him right before they left?
"He's coming at some point, isn't he? To see I'm still here, that I'm alive and well."
"Among others." the witch mused.
"When is he coming?"
"He said he would send an owl an hour before. Said he won't be able to let us know much more in advance."
Sirius hummed, interested in what else Dumbledore had to say. Perhaps good news - anything in regards to Pettigrew, locating him, or perhaps even related to Harry.
"I thought it best to meet together, in preparation for what is to come. I think there have been things, from all sides, unsaid, that should be spoken about. Wouldn't you agree it is time that we all exchange much needed information, as long as it stays among us three?" Sat at the witch's table, Dumbledore moved his head between the two, until each nodded, before continuing. "However, before that, let us celebrate this unexpected meeting and the possibilities it brings.
This- is one of our Madam Romserta's finest." Dumbledore stated, looking at the witch now as he waved his wand. A giant bottle of mead appeared, together with three glasses. He took his time as he lazily waved his wand, each glass filling itself slowly. "I remember you enjoyed it terrifically the first time you tasted it, Magdalena. To friendships, old and new." He raised one of the glasses, and drank his mead slowly, drinking it for taste, compared to Sirius, who already downed his, by the time Dumbledore had his second sip.
"Did you know, Sirius, that back in the day, our Muggle friends used to predict storms by putting leeches in a bowl." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, addressing him directly. He looked at him with a soft smile and piercing eyes, reminding him of back when he was a student and was brought in his office after one incident or another.
"How marvelous is that?" Dumbledore continued, and Sirius leaned over, the same as he did when he'd be flanked by the other three Marauders, trying to unscramble the Headmaster's riddles and how it related to them. "Leeches. When the leeches would climb up, that would mean a storm would be brewing. It was Magdalena's mentor who showed me that, a long, long time ago - I even tried it myself. Still have a bowl in my office, hidden away. I still use it to predict storms, and they've never missed one.
How crafty they can be, Muggles." He smiled as he took another sip, before continuing. "Now, the types of storms I predict may be coming soon are not at all related to actual storms these leeches can predict."
"I will first go back a few years, to help everyone here contextualize this next part. Sirius, you haven't had much time to catch up with Harry regarding his past years at Hogwarts, have you?" He nodded sharply, and downed his glass. The warmth filled his throat and stomach, and he poured himself another glass. How much could they have caught up with, in one flimsy hour?
"I think it's important you have the details now, better than later. In the past… years or so, as Harry was preparing to arrive at Hogwarts for his first year here, Voldemort as well was preparing his own return.
He had managed to take hold of one of our professors, possess him and hide himself within his host, looking to resurrect himself into a new body. Fortunately, that did not happen, and Harry ensured, young man as he was, that Voldemort would end up in a state just as worse, if not worse, than before his possession." There was a sliver of pride in his voice as he talked about Harry, before smiling coily.
"Apologies, I have digressed quite a bit. Where was I? Oh, yes… see now, to keep that foul form somewhat alive, he had drunk unicorn blood, which led me to believe he would do it again. Now, the places where you find unicorns are few and far between. Luckily for us, however, worldwide, their numbers and patterns are closely monitored."
Dumbledore slowly pulled a map from the witch's stack of parchments, laying it flat on the table. It was filled with marks in different colors, and had particular areas highlighted in different coloured inks. He pointed towards several areas, marked in blue ink, before finally landing on a patch crossed in small, purple dots, as well as notes tacked onto it.
"This is where our good friends from abroad come in. Wizards and witches who had family or friends in Britain during Voldemort's reign, or sympathized with our cause. I have reconnected with many of them from the moment Voldemort had first reappeared, many like Magdalena here, and they have started combing through some of these areas.
This area, this one here, has recently - well, two years ago, experienced a small decline in numbers of unicorns. Not worryingly so, but enough that it was noticed. In a period which matched Voldemort's first return, in the body of Professor Quirrell. My Albanian connections have been monitoring the numbers closely in the past few months, however…"
"But no Voldemort yet." Sirius's voice was a rumble as he looked onto the map, examining it closely.
"Indeed." Dumbledore agreed. "I don't think he would possess someone again, not after what happened last time… which only leaves me wondering what his next step would be. In light of that, as well as other… developments you will soon find out about when they materialize, and I do hope this stays between us, I have decided to hire Alastor Moody for this year's professor of Defense against-"
"What about Remus?" Two drinks in, he felt compelled to speak more, and turned his sight from the map back to Dumbledore.
"Remus has decided, unfortunately, to not continue with his post."
"Why not? Is this about-" He looked at the witch, stopping himself before mentioning the incident when Remus turned into a werewolf in front of the kids. Dumbledore looked at him without nodding, however Sirius figured, even without an answer, that the incident under the full moon must have been related.
"Mad-Eye… teaching kids? That'd be a sight." he chuckled to himself, wishing he could be able to bear witness to at least one class.
"It will be a change for Alastor indeed, to move from Aurors to their children. Along with that, you must have been reading the Daily Prophet lately, now that you are able to, yes?" Sirius nodded, grumbling that he was aware about the Quidditch World Cup. He dearly wished he could have taken Harry to it, go together over the summer - surely, this must've been every kid's dream this summer.
"The Ministry's presence is going to only increase in these months, Sirius, which brings me to another point. You need to put your safety first - Harry needs you as his godfather, but does not need you in Azkaban, or worse. If you need anything, I trust Magdalena like I would have trusted any Order member. For now, practice caution. Along with Voldemort, I have been trying as well, to see if there has been any signs of Peter Pettigrew, but I am afraid that so far…" He didn't continue, but Sirius knew exactly what he wanted to say.
No signs of Peter Pettigrew either. After all, there's millions of rats in Britain. And it wasn't like the Ministry would trust Dumbledore's word on it, not after…
"Listen, Dumbledore. About Harry… I promised him-"
"Harry cannot leave his family." Dumbledore simply said, looking at him through his half-moon glasses. It was as if he read his mind, and Sirius didn't doubt that he indeed did so. "At this moment, the protection his family is giving him allows him to be the safest he could possibly be."
"Those Muggles? You can't possibly be serious. What protection can they offer him?"
"Not them per se, Sirius. Not them, but the relation between Harry and his aunt, and that house. That house offers him protection, more than either you or I could. You do not need to worry, I have a constant eye on him. And it would be wisest for Harry to spend his summers away from everything that is happening in the wizarding world for now, until he can return to Hogwarts. Otherwise, he would be constantly vigilant, worrying for your safety- let him think you are safe and away, not under the Ministry's nose."
He did not agree with Dumbledore, but he understood his reasoning. And no matter how begrudgingly, had to agree with his logic. Soon after, he departed, thanking Magdalena for hosting, before using her fireplace to exit and return back to Hogwarts.
Neither of them spoke much for the rest of the day. Realizing Dumbledore had left one of his maps, Magdalena spent her time examining it closely, nodding to herself as she did so.
There was nothing to do in Azkaban but pace around his cell, eat the gruel, and pace around again, until he would go dizzy. Nothing to do but listen to, but the despair of the other inmates. Sleep when exhaustion set in. Rinse and repeat, for some four thousand odd days, in and out, in and out. To some extent, he had already had the practice of being stuck, and at least now there were no Dementors - not real ones at least.
Only those conjured by his exhausted mind.
However, there was no end in sight for how long he would have to remain in hiding. Not with Pettigrew missing. Without him, dead or alive, his own name would remain forever tainted.
"You will go mad, stuck in here."
It was already nighttime, by the time the witch finally spoke. She had finished examining Dumbledore's enormous map of Europe, and was gently folding it back.
"Guess I will." Sirius agreed. He had spent his time absentmindedly looking through the books in her library, and now was going through a book detailing the history of Alchemy, thinking of his next move. Dumbledore wanted him to lay low at the moment. Remus surely would have thought that would be the most prudent move as well. But he wanted to do something, to feel useful. As he lazily flicked through the pages of the book, a drawing caught his attention. A caricature of a person, looking at another one emerging from a cauldron, both of them bearing the same expression of terror. The picture was nothing more but a cautionary tale of the effects of necromancy, but the two identical figures gave him an idea.
"Have you ever brewed Polyjuice Potion?" he asked, looking at the witch.
The witch furrowed her brows. "Me? No, never. It's quite advanced, isn't it?"
"Do you have a copy of a Potions book that has it anywhere?" The idea was materializing more and more in his head as he spoke, and for the first time in long, long years, he felt a sense of enthusiasm in his chest. He had never made it before either, but it couldn't have been much harder than the Animagus Potion.
"I- I may have one somewhere, I'd have to look."
"I will rephrase then - do you think, after you find it, you could get me the ingredients for it?"
"What do you need it for?"
"You've said it yourself. I'll go mad here. I need to get out, I need to see things, see people. See Harry. I want to do things. Look, I'm not asking you for much- I'll brew it myself. Won't bother you a bit. And if it works, you won't have to bear with me."
The witch was quiet, and Sirius turned to her, furrowing his brows. He couldn't possibly go to Diagon Alley himself and get everything he needed - and even if there was any way he could, in his Animagus form, it would take an incredibly long amount of time, compared to someone who could just go out in daylight and buy what he needed.
He watched her brows furrow, and knew that in the state he was in, skin and bones, waxy and rough skin, he had nothing left of any charms he used to have back in the day. Slowly, he approached the witch, and clasped her hand in his own. Compared to her, he felt as if there was another layer of skin on top of his, like a pair of gloves he could not take off.
Kneeling down to be on her level, he then did something he couldn't remember having done in a long, long time, if ever. He pleaded with her.
"Come on. Please. You've been a wonderful host, and I know that, and I am forever indebted for you risking this. Magdalena, you don't understand, I need this. I need to see my godson, I can't just sit and wait. I'll go mad, and I truly don't know what could happen if I became madder than I already am."
He waited for an answer for what seemed like an eternity. He pleaded his case, and waited for her to say it. And he was sure, he was almost sure...
"Fine." she finally acquiesced, and in his excitement, he tightened his grip on her hands, before letting go. "But you've heard Dumbledore, yes? If he catches wind, he wouldn't be too happy about it, I imagine."
No, no he wouldn't. Which is why, with one hand still holding hers, he took his wand out.
"Care if I ensure this stays between us then?"
With a sigh, she nodded, and gripped his arm at the wrist with her free hand. He placed his wand where their wrists touched, and murmured his spell, warm orange waves slithering from the tip of his wand towards their wrists.
After he finished, the witch declared she had something to attend to, and left him to go upstairs. She took the folded map with her, only to appear later in quite a fancy, golden-embroidered robe.
"I'm not sure when I'll return… don't go into the night, yeah? Not until I find those ingredients and we- you… we make that potion." she stammered, preparing to leave. "And not to forget, you know… Dumbledore is one of the most accomplished Legilimens I have ever met. Neither you nor I may not say a thing, but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't… well. You know."
Of course. There was that to consider as well.