Not much time left before Sirius' trial, and there's still so much to do... Damn you, Scrimgeour!
Chapter 12: I believe we need to talk
Sirius set foot outside the secret basement and walked past the aurors who looked at him, puzzled and wondering where the hell he had disappeared to all this time. As he went to his room, he saw many figures going from one painting to another, finally free. He could guess that three of them were in fact heading to the sole painting in the master bedroom, a high, large, long depiction of a cliff during a stormy night.
Achernar Black, a lord from the eleventh century, Vega Black, eldest of her siblings – all sisters – who had chosen to continue the House of Black by having her husband take her name instead – a magically binding ceremony which allowed to bypass the law of paternity for family magic – in 1398, and Rigel Black, Lord Black in the early seventeenth century. The Black Family members who had defied death. The ones who had succeeded in casting the Reciprocation Curse.
He had been a bit obvious before, and if none of the former lords and lady hadn't gotten it, they would have to be quite thick.
Hell, all of the Blacks might have understood, for the obviousness of his statement. After all, most of them knew about the curse, they just didn't have a clue how to use it if they weren't former lords or ladies. Said lords and ladies Black were certainly having a fit of smugness down there, with all the other Blacks dying to know more about the curse. Each time a lord died it was the same thing all over again, the others tried to get them to talk.
Sirius was climbing the stairs to the third floor when Bellatrix's ghost showed up through a wall, carefully checking that he didn't have an auror tailing him, just in case.
"I take it you visited the basement?"
The young lord smirked a bit at his cousin's face. Bella looked completely lost, and that wasn't something usual.
"Would you perhaps be linked to the mural as well?"
The ghost shrugged, and they walked into Sirius' bedroom.
"Looks like it. Actually, I started feeling like I'm more of a portrait than a ghost a while ago. Some sort of portrait, in fact, because I'm in the painting in the basement and I'm here at the same time, when others can't be in two paintings at the same time. It's really, really strange."
"And what, you can see what your painting can see too?"
If that was the case, it could become downright useful...
"Well... yeah. But that's weird. I'm not sure, maybe I can close off the connection. I feel like I can. Before, the basement was locked down, and my painting was disconnected, so I had no access and my painting was inactive. Now I see here and there, and that's... strange. If I can, I will separate myself from my portrait's consciousness."
Sirius looked at her oddly, and Bella wondered if what she had just said had made any sense at all. Maybe not. After all, she was different from him. She wasn't alive anymore, and yet she wasn't exactly a ghost, nor a painting, she was something in between.
"The Reciprocation Curse isn't supposed to be used on family..."
Bella jumped in surprise and quickly turned to the origin of the voice.
Sirius said nothing and just sat in an armchair. Very calm, he looked at the large painting which took the whole back wall of the room.
The scenery was that of a stormy night, a tree on the edge of a grim-looking cliff. In the background, dark clouds and thunderbolts. Only lords' and ladies' portraits could walk into this painting. Three of them were currently standing there, as Sirius had guessed they would be.
"Family isn't supposed to kill each other either."
"I guess you do have a point."
Vega Black was the one talking.
The former lady was a witch with the ink-black hair and pale complexion of the Blacks, but she had beautiful dark blue eyes. Looking around fifty years old right now, she had the looks of an aristocrat. A Black, really.
"Mind you, I don't think Bella cares so much about it anyway. Do you?"
Looking at the ghost hovering behind him, Sirius arched an eyebrow.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, but she wasn't really angry at him. Yes, he had exchanged her life for his, but well, she had it coming. After all, she had killed him.
"I don't like being dead, no matter what you believe, Sirius. But I like it better than being insane and on the way to murder half of my family, so no, I don't resent you for killing me."
Sirius grinned at her then turned back to the painting.
"Yeah, because my dear cousin was bent on killing me and just about any other family member besides Narcissa, because Andromeda and I are blood traitors, Dora is a halfblood and Edward is a muggleborn. So she's grateful I freed her from her insanity. But all that aside, can you tell me if that is normal?"
And he pointed at the ghost, who huffed in annoyance.
Rigel Black frowned, not understanding his point.
"If what is normal?"
Vega and Achernar rolled their eyes as the other lord looked at Sirius. Rigel had been so used to the whole post-curse situation, having successfully cast the Reciprocation Curse at twenty-three and died at eighty-eight years old, that he had no clue of what the current lord was talking about.
"If having a ghost of your killer haunting and serving you after the use of the curse is normal, Rigel. It's not exactly usual to have a ghost obeying you without resorting to threats."
"Oh."
"Yeah, Oh."
"Leave me alone, Achernar. At least your ghost was an hired assassin, he didn't have a personal grudge against you. Mine wanted me dead since his father had been killed by mine. Yes, he had to obey me, but it didn't stop him from hating me. Try living with a grudging ghost for sixty five years, and you'll see!"
Achernar snorted at that. Of course, Rigel didn't like thinking about his personal ghost. Him and Vega had been the least lucky of the four revived Black lords, with a vengeful spirit and a jealous young woman for Vega who had become a bit of a poltergeist even if she technically wasn't one. But Vega, unlike Rigel, had understood what Sirius was talking about.
As for Bella, she was enjoying the quarrel with a smirk on her lips.
The young lord, sensing the discussion going awry, talked before anyone could inflame the situation anymore.
"I take it that's normal, then."
Vega, who was the least hot-headed of the three figures, nodded.
"But why would you doubt it? It's not like the Reciprocation curse can be cast right or wrong. If you fail, then it's goodbye. There's no escape route. If you are alive and she is dead, then every single thing went right. If not, you'd be dead ands she'd be alive."
Well, the thruth was that three – now four – people casting the damn curse right could hardly be seen as a representative show of the curse's effects. But in theory, there was no loophole, and in practice, Achernar, Vega and Rigel had experienced the exact same effects after the casting. It surely meant something, didn't it?
Sirius and Bellatrix exchanged a glance, wincing as they thought of the exact circumstances of the lord's death. Such as, the fact that there had been no body for him to go back to. Or the moment he had lived inside Bella's body. Which was, truth be told, something Sirius had yet to tell the ghost.
Merlin, talk of an awkward conversation...
The wizard straightened in his armchair and stared stubbornly at a great black cloud in the background of the painting.
"The thing is, my death wasn't quite the same as yours."
None of the previous Black lieges said anything, wondering what could be different in their descendant's death. After all, death was death. Achernar had been hit with the killing curse, Vega had been stabbed right in the heart, and Rigel had been hit by a breathless curse. Their death had nothing in common, apart from the fact that they had all cheated death and lived once again.
Sirius' eyes suddenly were jumped at the three figures in the painting, which startled them a bit. Rigel shifted under the young wizard's stare.
It was a good thing that Sirius Black was skilled in occlumency, or they'd have seen the horror of Azkaban screaming in his eyes. And no one, not even those who, like them, had looked death in the eyes, no one would ever want to see the definition of despair that were twelve undeserved years in the hellhole which was called the worst prison ever.
"I fell behind the Veil in the Department of Mysteries."
Silence.
They might not have known what the Department of Mysteries was, because it hadn't existed in their times, but there was only one thing called "the Veil" in Great Britain.
A door between life and death, some said.
But an one-way door.
Achernar's voice was what broke the silence.
"You had no body to return to."
Because Achernar, Vega and Rigel knew well enough how the Veil was rumored to work, and because they had the best knowledge of the Reciprocation curse for having used it themselves, they knew the problem instantly.
Achernar's revival hadn't been much of a deal, after all, he had only been hit with a killing curse. No lasting effects on the body. A clean, quick death. Some said the killing curse was the worst of the Unforgivables, others thought it was the most human. The middle-age wizard's death had been instantaneous, his resurrection had happened the same way. Achernar Black had died, and then he had opened his eyes once again, nothing more, nothing less.
Vega's coming back to life had been more painful, for if the curse had almost healed the stab wound, it hadn't made it disappear completely right away. For a time, the witch had seen black threads hidden in the blood coming out sporadically of the half-healed wound. After two days, though, it was gone, as if nothing had ever happened. Vega Black had been restored to her original state through the dark magic in the curse, but it was still her own body.
Rigel's awakening had been frantic, searching, gasping for the air after his lungs had been denied until his body couldn't take it anymore and had eventually died. The young man had coughed blood the whole day after his death, and this blood seemed thick and dark, much more than normal. The next day, he had been healthy again, with no trace of darkness in his system. Rigel Black had lost his life due to an inability to breath, and the curse had restarted his life after his death.
But Sirius Black?
The last step of the Reciprocation Curse was to call back a dead amongst the living, and give them back to their body. Sirius hadn't had a body to be given back to.
"The curse created a new one for me, a body still pure and unaffected by the years I spent in Azkaban. Apparently, it considered that the 'injury' leading to my death, the injury it had to get rid of, goes back to fifteen years in the past."
Rigel frowned, unsure how it could all be a single "injury" for the curse.
"But you were out of Azkaban for three years, weren't you? Shouldn't it count as a time of rest, not as part of your suffering?"
Achernar and Vega nodded at that, seeing Rigel's point. The Azkaban years were behind Sirius – though not far behind. They weren't stupid, it would always haunt the young man, this time locked up with dementors right outside his cell at all times of the day. Still, Sirius could only be better since he had escaped...
They still couldn't quite believe someone had broken out of the worst wizarding prison on Earth.
Sirius watched them as the three former lieges slowly turned the conversation into a magical approach of the Dark Arts. Of course, he felt the same interest with his special case – after all, he was gifted with dark magic, clever and curious – but being himself the oddity was kind of strange.
Still, he snapped out of it and laughed a mirthless laugh – his usual bark-like laugh, yet again, it wasn't quite the same as usual, it was colder, meaner than his normal laughter, and if Bella had not been a ghost, she'd have shuddered hearing it.
"I was on the run for two years, eating scraps of food, without a wand, without proper clothing, without shelter no matter the weather, trying not to get caugh by dementors, living half of the day as a dog, so certainly no, I haven't been really better after my flight from Azkaban. As for last year, I was confined in Grimmauld Place and worrying every hour of the day for about everybody. I haven't been alright in terms of health since 1981. Reason why I'm back to my 1981 self."
He paused a moment before continuing.
"Well, besides the bags under the eyes and the extreme palor, but that's because this body has been completely made out of the Dark Arts. And yes, I'm sure it's 1981 and not a simple healthy version of me, because I still have the scars from before 1981."
The young wizard pulled up his right sleeve, showing three faded scars on his arm. They weren't the only ones, but their presence was enough to prove his point.
Bella looked away guiltily at the sight of the old wounds, but Sirius said nothing. He knew, she knew he knew, and pointing it out wouldn't change anything to the past.
The five Blacks – alive, ghost or figures in a painting – talked about the use of the curse a bit more, talked about what was going on in the world, and Vega smacked her hand on her forehead when Sirius told her about Voldemort and his followers. The stupidity some very clever people could display sometimes would always amaze her, and she let it be known. The young lord did his best not to look too ill-at-ease as he unsuccessfully tried to keep his own thoughts away from some of his own choices, including for example a whomping willow, a Slytherin and a werewolf, as well as rat hunting and revenge.
Then the portraits left for another part of the manor, probably planning either on gossiping about the latest news with the ones who had a portrait somewhere else, or to think about the creation of a body out of nothing thanks to dark magic. Sirius had always said the Blacks had lovely hobbies.
Bella swiftly disappeared without a word, certainly to do ghostly things. In other words, the young lord had no idea where she was and what she was doing, and no intention to monitor his deceased cousin each minute of the day.
So Sirius spent the rest of the day reading wizarding law books, and then went to bed early. He was confident in the outcome of his trial, but it couldn't hurt to know the exact words of the law, could it? The aurors only saw him at dinner, and he left as soon as he finished eating to go back to his reading. He slept very well, though his dreams were filled with a sense of dread he knew too well and could hide even better. What mattered was that he woke up happy and refreshed.
Seven o'clock, and Sirius Black was back to his law books.
When he deemed the hour more decent, the young man floo-called Dumbledore and inquired of the whereabouts of everybody's favorite potion master's. It wouldn't do if he sent a patronus to Snape in the middle of a Death Eaters assembly, would it?
Now knowing that Snivellus the greasy git – not that he'd call the man that to his face anymore, or even when talking with somebody – was as usual alone at his house – though it seemed Voldepants had given him a rat to help and spy on him – Sirius thanked the old wizard. He hesitated for one second before sending a grim-like patronus with a message for his schood-days nemesis. The hell with the rat, after all, Snape was supposed to be a spy for the Dark Bastard as far as the Death eaters were concerned. It wouldn't be too odd if Sirius asked for his help, as long as he displayed enough dislike in his message to make it clear he didn't trust the greasy git and would do without his help if he could.
As he waited for an answer, Sirius thanked the heavens that there was at least one way of communicating that couldn't be intercepted. The only things with this way was that it wasn't possible to determine if the other person was alone or not, and the further away, the most taxing the spell became. The patronus went, delivered its message, and disappeared. No confidentiality, obviously, but nothing left behind too, no letter that could be stolen, no floo conversation that could be overheard by the Ministry.
Snape... Sirius and the man weren't best friends, sure, they didn't like each other, but they had become adults finally, and that was always something. They had some respect – some – for each other that no one back at Hogwarts would have thought possible. Sirius Black and Severus Snape, ennemies forever, had been more likely than anything else back then.
But now, even if they couldn't bear each other, they could work together. They hated it, yes. But they did it nonetheless if it had to be done. And they no longer wished hell to fall upon the other one – not quite, at least – so they wouldn't try to sabotage the other's chances to stay alive.
It would have been easy, after all. A word to the wrong person about Snape's loyalty, a slip of the tongue about a certain incident caused by Sirius to a Ministry offical, and everything would crumble down for the two wizards. A few words, a short sentence to raise doubts, and the worst kind of sentence would fall upon them. Death. Prison. Anyway.
But no, they had to fight if they wanted to live normally someday, and if they couldn't fight together – it would have been a bit much to ask of them – they could at least not fight each other.
Sirius went on with his day, and finally got an answer a few hours later.
A ruffled owl brought that response – long-distance patroni were complicated things to keep corporeal without an exact idea of where you were sending them, and Snape hadn't exactly been nvited to Black Manor before.
Yes, Black, I can make a sinemendatium potion for your trial, but why would I when you can do it yourself? If I recall correctly, you had an outstanding N.E.W.T in potion. And frankly, you certainly missed the fact that hellhounds have been extinct for a century. Good luck finding any of their hairs that way.
Forget everything nice Sirius had ever thought about Snivellus, then. Not that it amounted to much anyway, but still.
Scowling, the wizard made another patronus to which he gave another message, a message that he'd have liked to make a lot less civil than the first one, but that eventually ended up this way:
"Snape, we're supposed to be able to work together, not to put sticks in each other's wheels. True, I had an outstanding in potion, but you yourself got an outstanding only because the examiner couldn't find a better mark for the potion genius that you are. Sinemendatium is extremely difficult to brew, and I'm sure you can do it the best. As for hellhounds, they're not actually extinct and I have some of those here. No, I'm not joking, and yes, if you see a rat during a meeting, you can tell him I'll have his hide one day or another."
If Peter was there, listening to Snape's messages, he'd get it and hopefully wet his pants. Peter knew his former friend well enough, and he knew Sirius was not one to be crossed. Sure, Peter was more scared of Voldepants and his hooded servants, but Sirius wouldn't disdain any way on Earth to make his former friend even more miserable.
As usual, shift of aurors, a quick meal, some more reading on wizarding laws, and Sirius was on his way to the Ministry of Magic once again, apparating next to the visitor entrance with his two human shadows. His head was so full of law texts he had the feeling he'd start reciting them if he was to open his mouth.
His feeling was soon proved wrong, fortunately for him.
Ignoring the glances he received as he walked to the Wizengamot Administration Services, the young man kept his mouth shut, but that couldn't last. After some waiting time and a dozen more nervous glances in his direction, the welcome witch finally asked him why he was here.
Sirius gave her his most charming smile, and saw her falter a bit as he almost leaned on her desk to be closer to her as not to speak too loud. The left sleeve of his black robes slipped from his shoulder, his grey shirt was only halfway buttoned, and his skin was very pale.
He wasn't so much of a flirt – actually he had almost never needed, or wanted, to flirt to get a girl – but once in a while he liked to take advantage of his seemingly pleasant features. It had been fifteen years since last time, and the Ministry had done such a good job messing with his life, he thought he totally deserved to mess with its employees' heads.
"I need to talk with someone about my trial."
As if it hadn't been obvious.
Nonetheless, the woman blushed a bit as she looked down at some papers, her eyes lingering a bit longer than necessary on his exposed collarbone before beginning to search for the name of whoever was supervizing the upcoming trial of the young Lord of the House of Black.
"Julian Swain, third office to your left."
Sirius thanked her with a dashing smile, and the witch's eyes were dreamy when Gulch and Flume passed by her, completely dazed by the Black lord's ability to enthrall a woman.
Swain's office had its door open, and from the corridor, Sirius could see a wizard with grey hair and glasses, one hand on his coffee cup, the other one busy doing paperwork. The man seemed to be a bit overworked, though there was only one file on his desk. Sirius', obviously. This particular case alone was horrible enough to overwork anyone, the young lord mused.
Swain barely acknowledged his visitor, gesturing vaguely for him to take a seat and wait until he finished whatever he was doing.
After eleven minutes and twenty-eight seconds – Sirius knew for sure because he had been opening and closing his silver watch in silence while waiting – the wizard looked up at his visitor. If he was surprised by the visit of the accused, it didn't show on his face.
"Sirius Orion Black, born to Orion and Walburga Black on the third day of November 1959, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, godfather to Harry James Potter. I've been on your file since what feels like the dawn of time, and yet it has only been three weeks. Do you have a request pertaining to your upcoming trial?"
And Julian Swain pushed his sliding glasses back on the top of his nose.
The Ministry employee spared a glance to Gulch and Flume, standing behind Sirius, and sighed, with another vague gesture to two chairs placed against the wall of the office.
"Don't stand like fools and sit down there, you're making me more tired than I already am just by the sight of you."
The surprised aurors obeyed without a word, exchanging awkward looks as Swain's attention went back to his visitor.
Sirius smiled, looking perfectly calm and satisfied. He liked this wizard, there was a no-nonsense look about him someone who had to prove their innocence could appreciate.
"As you certainly know, my part in the trial is in two days. I... researched our laws quite a bit and found that the use of some truth potions was allowed, if not a guarantee of truthfulness."
The shadow of a smile crept up on Swain's face.
"I fear you won't be able to brew a truth serum before your trial, Lord Black. But yes, if you have one of the approved truth potions, you can present to this service up to two hours before the trial. Its authenticity would be checked with the proper spells and you'd be allowed to take it before the court. The jury and the judge would be informed of its nature, with the caution that, as always, no truth serum is foolproof and its use is certainly not to be considered conclusive evidence."
Sirius waved the concerns away and simply said that it wouldn't be a problem.
"I don't think even an Unbreakable Vow to say the whole truth and nothing but the truth would make the Wizengamot believe me. There are those who believe in me, there are those who are reasonable enough to rely on the facts, evidences and testimonies, and there are those who will never believe a word I say anyway. The most I can do is hope the last ones aren't numerous enough to put me back in Azkaban. The dementors may have flown away, but this place is still..."
Swain was listening and not saying anything, but inwardly he was a bit surprised by the honesty the young lord was nonchalantly displaying. He knew it could all be an act, but still, there was too much distrust in Black's words for it to be completely made up.
"As for the truth serum, there is one which can be brewed in less than a day, is allowed in court and would do perfectly."
Swain frowned. He had never heard of such a potion...
"What truth serum?"
Sirius smirked, knowing his answer would cause disbelief.
"Sinemendatium. Very potent, impossible to trick or so it's believed to be, and not as intrusive as veritaserum. I have a potion master ready to make it for the trial."
Julian Swain observed Black warily, waiting for the moment he'd say it was all a joke. But the moment didn't come, so the employee of the Wizenmagot Administration Services eventually spoke up.
"Lord Black, are you aware that sinemendatium is a potion which cannot be brewed since the seventeenth century, as one of the main ingredients is not available anymore?"
If Swain thought the Black lord would be touched by this, he was wrong. Sirius' smile only grew wider, and everyone else in the room felt very weird. They couldn't read this man at all, even if sometimes he seemed to be as readable as an open book, and that was unnerving. It was as if Black could control his emotions to the point of going back and forth between shutting them off and displaying them for all to see any time of the day.
"You are talking about hellhound's hairs, aren't you?"
So he knew even which ingredient couldn't be found anymore. Maybe the Blacks had had some in stock without anyone knowing about it?
Black smiled. He did that a lot. It wasn't always comforting, because Black seemed to have a wide range of smiles up his sleeve. Flirty, reassuring, genuine, false, cold, warm, freezing, happy, condescending, frightening, threatening, and many others.
Swain took a sip of coffee. He really needed it if he wanted to survive this month of doom.
"Everyone believes hellhounds to be extinct, but they really aren't. There are some left in Transylvania, even if they're very hard to come across. And one of my ancestors brought a couple of them back home after a trip to Romania."
Swain almost spilled his coffee.
"You have hellhounds on one of your properties?!"
Black looked unconcerned when he answered.
"On Black Manor's grounds, yes."
This time the strongest reaction came from Gulch, who looked about to become translucent with how much she paled at the thought of having been around the beasts.
Swain calmed down a bit.
"And no one knows?"
"No one asked."
And there it was, the wealth of the Blacks would just go up once again as soon as people would b aware they had access to such a rare ingredient.
Swain coughed in his hand, pushed back his glasses on his nose, glanced at a sheet of paper, looked back at the young lord and decided that it wouldn't be good to expect anything normal from the wizard.
"Well, if you can get some, then... But you know of the risks, don't you?"
"Yes, I know what happens when the potion is too old and one drink it anyway. It won't happen to me, that I can assure you of."
Julian Swain nodded. Better to comply with the Black lord's wishes.
"One last question..."
The Ministry employee arched an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"Will I be allowed to be the one to explain the use of a truth serum to the Wizengamot? I don't want them to believe I'll rely on it to prove everything and so be led to think I tampered with it in some way."
Swain frowned. His position had required him to follow a course of seven lessons on thruth potions. If what he knew of sinemendatium was right, there was no way to tamper with it and not suffer from grave consequences...
"Doesn't a wrongly brewed sinemendatium cause the..."
Black interrupted him with a cool tone to his voice, but Swain was sure it had to do with the two aurors listening to the conversation. There was a possibility they wouldn't let the man ask for use of sinemendatium if they knew exactly what were the risks. After all, even if Scrimgeour seemed to think that Black was guilty, others doubted that. Without truth serum, the accused lowered his chances of acquittal. With it, he risked death. And innocent or not, if Sirius Black died before the end of his trial, it would benefit the Minister for Magic... and infuriate the public.
But it was the Black lord's right to ask for it, and Swain worked for the law.
"... of the user, yes, it does. But I trust the abilities of the potion master who will brew this potion, and my life is worth nothing if I'm jailed a second time. I'll be free by the end of my trial, and there isn't an 'or else'."
Of course, Black hadn't said the word.
He hadn't mentioned the fact that death could be the outcome.
He had ended Swain's sentence, only omitting one word: death.
Swain took note of the request, and told the young man that everything was in order. After that, Black left his office, and the old wizard found himself a bit puzzled about his visitor.
Sirius quickly left the Ministry of Magic, for he didn't like the looks some people were sending him. Yes, he liked being the center of attention well enough, but only in a particular set of circumstances, not when everyone was taking bets on his subsequent jailing or his freedom. He'd have enough of those unpleasant glances at the trial. For now, he had to keep his secrets to himself... to be able to come clean in front of the whole Wizengamot the day after tomorrow without any rumours running around and jeopardizing his chances.
A surprise was waiting for him at the manor.
When he first saw a man standing next to the gates, Sirius took out his wand, but his wariness didn't last.
The man waiting for him wasn't a man. He was a werewolf, and his name was Remus Lupin.
"Moony!"
A bone-crushing hug caugh the werewolf off guard, and for a moment Remus wondered if someone had imperiused his best friend, or, worst, if someone had polyjuiced the wizard, because that was definitely not a normal reaction to the visit of a friend.
His worries were discarded when Sirius began whining.
"I went to the Ministry, and half of the people there were looking at me funnily, and I'm sure they were cursing under their breath and wishing I drop dead. Why does everyone hate me, Moony?"
Remus roled his eyes at his friend's antics.
"And me, what am I? Am I left out of 'everyone', Padfoot? I'm hurt, I believed I was a human being to youat least, but I can see I was only delusional."
Sirius snorted at that and hit him playfully on the arm.
"Don't stand like an idiot and come in, Remus. You're clear with the wards, and I can assure you you won't be shred to bits. Look, you just have to walk to the gates, and they will open for you."
Once on the property, Sirius feigned forgetting he had to invite the aurors in, but Flume bribed him with a box of crystallised pineapples and he finally let them in.
As they walked back to the manor, Sirius asked his best friend why he had come. Remus, serious as ever, when his friend failed to be despite his first name, showed him the letter from the day before.
"I believe we need to talk, Sirius."
"So you know who she is?"
Remus rolled his eyes.
"Everyone knows who Eleanor Rowle is, Sirius, and you more than anyone else should know."
They went to a sitting room on the first floor and Sirius asked Sterhn to make some tea for them.
After having inquired about his friend's health, Sirius finally went back on topic.
"Why should I of all people know who she is, Remus? She must have been a first year during our last year, and she was in Slytherin. I have no reason to know about her, least of all to know her."
"Sirius, if you keep that up, I'll have to lubricate my eye-balls because I'm rolling them too much."
The young lord looked oddly at his friend, and began to think he was really missing something.
"I'm not doing it on purpose, Remus."
The werewolf didn't believe him at first. After all, how could Sirius have forgotten about Eleanor Rowle? Their... interactions at Hogwarts had surprised everyone and been a topic of gossip for months. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin, the odd duo, the Black Traitor and the Freak Princess. How many times had James said something about how uncanny Sirius' behavior towards Eleanor had been? Surely Sirius hadn't forgotten that...
But as he searched his friend's eyes for an answer, as he encountered only surprise in the silver of these eyes, Remus had to admit to himself that yes, one way or another, Sirius had forgotten about Eleanor Rowle.
The werewolf sighed, wondering how to talk about it.
"Sirius... She's the only Slytherin besides your brother you ever openly protected."
The wizard gave him a disbelieving look.
"You're kidding me."
"I'm not."
"The only Slytherin besides my brother I ever protected was that first year who was always given the cold shoulder by her housemates."
Oh, so he remembered, but somehow, he hadn't recognized her. Somehow. Yes, between eleven and thirty years old, Eleanor had changed, but still, she hadn't changed that much. And even like that there was her name. Sirius had learned the Noble and Ancient Houses' family trees as a child, he certainly couldn't have...
"Wait a minute, are you saying you never knew her name?!"
Sirius cringed at the accusation, but it was true. He had never asked, she had never told, and somehow, he had never heard the girl's name.
"Well..."
"You're unbelievable!"
"Wait a minute, Moony, it's not like we talked! I stopped the bullies, acting as if all I was doing was hexing some Slytherins because they were Slytherins and not because they were picking on one of their housemates. I helped her to find her way in the castle the first week when no one was around. I stopped her from breaking her skull when she was pushed in the stairs. That's all. I was the Black Traitor, the Gryffindor who should have been in Slytherin and wanted nothing to do with blood purists and snakes. She was the Freak Princess, talented at school and gifted with words but of average raw power, whom her classmates didn't like. I wasn't going to become friend with her!"
The look Remus gave him meant everything. Sirius might not have wanted to show his soft spot for the first year, but everyone except the thickest had known.
"Why were you on her side, then?"
Sirius looked away as he tried to answer his best friend's question. There was no way he had had feelings for an eleven years old back then, he knew that – and besides, it would have been sick – but now he felt as if saying the truth could only be misinterpreted.
"I don't know, okay. She was there, with no friends, and even if she was in Slytherin and a pureblood she treated everyone the same, which got her singled out by most of her housemates. She needed help, and I could help, so I did."
Remus smirked, Sirius saw this, and hit him with a cushion.
"No impure thoughts."
"I wouldn't dare."
Serious again, Sirius took a sip, wondering when exactly he had exchanged firewhiskey for tea.
"That aside, why did you say everyone knows her?"
"Eleanor is said to be a genius."
Remus continued. As a child, she had been different from many purebloods. She could have been a great addition to the Order of the Phoenix. Yet no one had ever thought of going to her and ask. After all, she had been too young during the first war, her brother was a Death Eater, and she did nothing to clarify her stance in the war. Moderate blood purist, or egalitarian? No one knew.
She freaked many people out, too.
"Great. Another pureblood lover, muggle hater, potential villain."
Remus couldn't tell what Sirius really thought. Was it sarcasm, or did he believe it?
"It doesn't add up to what we know of her, though. After all, she took Muggle Studies and got an Outstanding at her N.E.W.T.s. But either way, she got Outstandings in all her subjects, so..."
"She what?!"
But that wasn't the point. Eventually, Sirius ended the discussion, shaking his head. He had hoped...
"Slytherin, pureblood and surely knowledgeable in the Dark Arts. There's nothing else to say."
He didn't really believe what he had just said, Remus noticed, but Sirius still walked out of the room and disappeared for the rest of the day. Thanks to the tracking spell, the aurors could tell he was on the grounds, but where exactly, they didn't know. Remus, him, thought he knew, but said nothing.