The Malfoy dining room was draped in darkness, as the heavy velvety curtains that covered the long windows were shut, leaving all denizens of the room to focus on the dimmed light from the grand chandelier above the long table.
Wormtail, quivering with nerves, hurriedly pulled out the chair for Voldemort, his trembling hands betraying his fear and subservience. He then bowed his head.
"Well, well," said Lord Voldemort, caressing his wand with two bony pale fingers. "I must admit that this place is much of an upgrade for our meetings. I, as well as our loyal members, are most grateful to you for suggesting it, Bella," he said in a silky voice.
"Of course, my lord," said Bellatrix, her bright dark eyes wide with affection. "It would be the last we could do," she added, bowing her head respectfully. At the same time, a house elf scurried forward, offering a tray with a bottle of wine and a set of goblets, their delicate crystal catching the flickering light of the room.
Voldemort offered a grin to Bell and continued, his eyes focused, assessing. "After all the disgrace this family has seen in the last few months, hosting your master and fellow members is quite the privilege, is it not, Narcissa?" he asked her without gracing her with a look.
Narcissa, who was next to her sister, offered a curt nod. She looked pale and sickly and was clenching her fists under the table when no one could see. "Of course, my lord," she said in a faint voice.
"Be certain that this would not go unnoticed. When you honour your obligations to me and our cause to purify our race, you will be rewarded well" he said in a deep tone. Multiple Death Eaters around the table nodded, hummed in acknowledgement, and raised the glasses. But Voldemort waves his bony hand as if to stop the commotion.
A chilling silence followed. Voldemort's piercing gaze fell upon Narcissa directly. "Lucius, on the other hand," he continued, his voice laced with a touch of disdain, "has proven himself lacking in his duties. A disappointment, as always," he hissed.
The other Death Eaters watched with a mix of fascination and trepidation, their eyes darting between the three figures in the room.
Narcissa's face turned pale, and she appeared visibly ill, next to her sister who was flustered.
"Oh, my Lord," Bellatrix exclaimed. "Your brilliance knows no bounds. We are but humble servants, ready to carry out your every command. We will make the Malfoy name shine under your glorious reign," she said, bowing her head.
"See to it that you prove your loyalty and dedication, Bellatrix. And Narcissa, ensure that your family's contributions are not tarnished by the incompetence of others. I trust that your son, Draco, will honour his task and uphold the reputation of our cause"
Narcissa's face contorted, her features twisted with a mixture of dread and anxiety. She looked as though she might be sick. "My Lord, it would be the greatest honour for Draco to serve you in any capacity you deem fit. He will not falter," she said in a shaky voice.
Another voice from across the room interjected suddenly. "If I may, my Lord," said Severus Snape, who was seated across from the two sisters, next to Voldemort. Bellatrix's gaze turned to him, as Snape dared to speak, her eyes narrowing in a silent challenge.
"Yes, Severus?" said Voldemort.
"I will personally ensure Draco's support within the confines of Hogwarts. He will have all the assistance he needs to fulfil his task," he said in a deep tone.
Some of the other Death Eaters hummed approvingly, all eyes remained on Voldemort though. Voldemort's gaze shifted towards Snape, his red eyes narrowing slightly.
"Very well, Severus," Voldemort finally replied. "See to it that Draco's path is clear and that he carries out his duties with unwavering loyalty."
"Speaking of such measures for assistance, my Lord," said a tall bulky man near Snape. "My boy tells me that the cabinet is installed and they will be testing it soon to check that we can properly infiltrate the school when the time comes and Dumbledore falls," he said passionately, his face red and long.
"Crabbe is correct, master," added another man with a slurred voice. Goyle Senior.
"Very good to hear," said Voldemort, still holding his wand with one hand. As the discussion turned to the cabinet Draco had installed at Hogwarts, the Death Eaters began giving their reports.
Then, with a menacing undertone, another Death Eater spoke up. "If the boy fails to kill Dumbledore, there will be volunteers, my Lord. We shall not let such an opportunity go to waste."
Voldemort's gaze shifted across the room, his crimson eyes fixated on the Death Eater who made the statement. His voice, cold and measured, cut through the charged atmosphere. "If the boy fails, more doom shall befall the Malfoy family."
Bellatrix interjected with conviction. "He will not fail, my Lord," she asserted, her voice filled with confidence and a touch of defiance and anger at Snape and the others.
"Don't be so certain, Bellatrix. Your blood has failed before. Like you failed to kill your dearest cousin in the summer," said Voldemort menacingly.
Bella looked haughty and her lip trembled, the reddish shade on her face depicting embarrassment–something that was not there often. "The Animagus Black will die, my Lord, and it will be from my hand, for that I assure–"
"Enough," said Voldemort raising his hand. Bella sat back immediately, looking startled.
"Speaking of blood traitors," he said, his eyes now shifting to the back of the room. "I demand your updates on the Order's business. Severus, you may go first," he commanded and Snape nodded slowly.
"There is talk of skirmish, my Lord," he said. "It would be due at the end of the month, that is what my sources tell me," said Snape.
"A skirmish?" asked Antonin Dolohov, scratching his beard. "Are you certain, Snape?"
"They probably want to counter-attack because of what happened to Vance in the summer," growled Nott. "They are deluded to think they will succeed."
"They have been keeping a low profile since what happened at the Department of Mysteries," added Snape, dodging the pleading side look from Narcissa Malfoy. "They are currently recruiting new members, covering more bases, but I assure you, my Lord, they are panicking after what happened."
Voldemort looked carefully at Snape for a moment. He nodded after a while, accepting Snape's words.
"If they want a skirmish, then give it to them. Nott, Dolohov–cover your bases. After what happened to Vance, they will most likely come for you. I do not believe they have the wands or the forces to enter here. Now, Severus. Give us an update about the boy. Harry Potter. I want to know how his final year is going–because for this I am certain–it will be his last," said Voldemort with a menacing smile that revealed his teeth.
The Death Eaters hummed in approval once more.
...
Harry and Ron were huddled over an array of parchments and textbooks in the Gryffindor common room. The room hummed with the soft murmur of students, the occasional burst of laughter, and the comforting warmth of the crackling fireplace.
It was the end of the first week of classes and the boys were already knackered by all the information they had to retain. Harry had tossed his maroon tie casually around his neck and sat across Ron.
Ron nudged Harry and asked in a hushed tone, "Oi, Harry, any word from Sirius?" Harry shot him a sharp look.
"Keep your voice down," Harry whispered urgently, his eyes darting around the room, ensuring that a nearby group of fourth-year girls did not hear them. "We can't go blabbing about Sirius. It's best to keep it under wraps, you know? Can't be too careful," said Harry in an exasperated voice.
"Right, right, sorry 'bout that," Ron muttered, adjusting his tone to match Harry's cautiousness.
"I got a letter…from Padfoot this morning," said Harry, leaning forward slightly. "I told him everything, about the train and whatever might be going on with Malfoy," he added.
"What does Sirius reckon?" asked Ron curiously. "Erm–I meant Padfoot," he said, becoming slightly flustered.
Harry leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Ron," he replied, his tone laced with a hint of frustration. "Pads thinks there could be more to Malfoy's actions, especially now with his dad locked up in Azkaban. He told me that it could mean anything and that he did not want to worry about me at Hogwarts. You know–he wants me to stay out of trouble," Harry said with a note of disappointment in his voice.
"Wow, I'd never imagined I'd hear Padfoot say this of all people–he was desperate to get in trouble all year!" said Ron, looking awkwardly around him.
Harry ignored him.
"Well, if you ask me, he probably does think Malfoy is up to something but just doesn't want me to get over my head with it," said Harry.
Hermione and Ginny approached their table, carrying stacks of textbooks. Hermione looked flushed and a bit stressed, while Ginny beamed at them.
"Alright, what's going on here?" asked Ginny, raising an eyebrow. Hermione quickly scanned their parchments and their clear lack of progress and gave them a disapproving look. "Have you two finished your Transfiguration notes?" she asked, but Ginny ignored the comment and replied instead, looking at Harry specifically.
"You guys look like you are plotting something," she said nonchalantly.
"Keep your voices down," said Harry and prompted them to sit.
"Harry, what is it?" asked Hermione, her brow furrowing.
"It's Malfoy, okay–no, listen, I know what you'll say!" he said, seeing Hermione getting ready to protest. "I had to tell Sirius about it," Harry added.
She crossed her arms and gave both Harry and Ron an exasperated look. "Harry, you need to stop obsessing over Malfoy. We have our studies to focus on, and we can't let ourselves be consumed by his actions. I am certain that if anyone thought this was suspicious the Order would know already," she said flustered.
"I know, Hermione, but this could be important," Harry said in defiance. "Sirius thinks there might be something more to it, even if he's not overly worried. We can't just ignore it."
"What does Sirius think, Harry?" asked Ginny, her bright brown eyes curiously peering at him.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "He wants me to keep a low profile, focus on my studies, and not draw too much attention," he explained, his voice laced with a touch of annoyance. "He's always cautious like that, since–since June," Harry tried to push away an image of Sirius falling into the veil from his mind.
Hermione snorted. "Well, it's surprising to agree with Sirius on something," she remarked sarcastically.
Ron raised an eyebrow, catching Hermione's jab. "Oi, Hermione, no need for that," he chided. "Padfoot has been through a lot, and he knows a thing or two about these matters," he said apologetically, looking at Harry.
Ginny's eyes were still focused on Harry. He felt the intensity of her gaze and was prompted to divert his eyes for a bit, almost subconsciously.
"Harry is right though," Ginny said, glancing at Hermione and her brother. "If it is Malfoy assisting…you know who, then it's the perfect cover-up, right? Right under the noses of Hogwarts staff and…Order members," she said meaningfully, meaning Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall.
Hermione was ready to respond in protest but Ron then agreed with his sister.
"She's got a point," he said.
"So, what's your plan, Harry? What are you going to do about Malfoy?" Ginny said again before Hermione could open her mouth. Her eyes were on Harry again and Harry swore that he felt his neck becoming suddenly hot. What on earth was happening? Was he feverish?
"Erm–I'm not sure yet," he confided, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "But I have this feeling that it's more than just Malfoy being an arse. His father is a Death Eater, remember? There might be something bigger at play here, and I need to find out."
"Harry, just promise me you'll be careful," Hermione urged, her tone softening. "We don't want you getting into unnecessary danger. It would be bad for the Order, as well," she whispered.
Harry nodded. "I will. We'll all be careful. We'll gather information, keep a low profile, and be ready for whatever comes our way. But first, we have to agree that something is up–we have to keep an eye on Malfoy and his cronies. Right?"
Everyone nodded and Hermione followed their suit reluctantly, shrugging, as if to say, okay.
...
Emma carefully descended the narrow stairs to go back to the hospital floor, where she typically remained if she did not have to do potion-brewing.
For the last few days, she had to spend all her evenings in the attic of the Headquarters preparing the base blend for Black's dream potion, as the attic was the only spot that fit the environmental conditions. So she brewed at night and during the day, the vials had to settle downstairs near a window for as much light as possible.
Black's dream potion was a complex creation, requiring a delicate balance of components. She had been studying for days, and now she had to put her knowledge into action. Pouring over her notes and reference books, Emma meticulously jotted down the necessary ingredients that were brought to her by a man named Mundungus Fletcher. He was a short, rough-looking man who was not what she imagined an Order member to be like, but he was very useful despite his illegal activities that drove Molly Weasley mad.
The pressure was on, and time seemed to slip away faster than she could handle. Especially since Eulalia had told her that Dumbledore was to collect the first vials in the next meeting, which was coming up soon, this added extra pressure for Emma and she tried to avoid the voice of concern that told her that the Headmaster would still remember her. She had to maintain her cover, and any misstep could jeopardise everything. She knew she had to push through the pressure and deliver a flawless potion–if she wanted to avoid blowing up her cover, or poisoning
Black.
Emma positioned the first vial on the hospital wing counter, allowing it to soak in the natural light. Just then, Tonks strolled in, catching Emma off guard.
Tonks greeted Emma with a casual grin. "Hey there! What's that you got?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Emma immediately took a step back and hid the second vial behind her back without realising. Tonks raised an eyebrow.
"Uhm–It's sort of classified," she replied awkwardly, not sure what she could say. "For an Order affair," she clarified.
Tonks blinked in surprise, immediately realising her misstep. "Gaaah, I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to pry," she apologised, taking a seat nearby and observing the various items in the hospital wing. "Already got yourself a project then? That's brilliant," she added.
"No, it's alright," replied Emma. "It's still odd, getting used to missions and the like," she said, shrugging.
"I bet it is," said Tonks, absentmindedly.
"Care for some tea?" asked Emma, looking at Tonks who wanted some company.
"Oh, yes that would be wonderful," replied the Auror with a wistful look.
Emma quickly set the magical kettle to work while she monitored the vials. The blue colour of the potion was becoming stronger.
"Sorry for prying before," said Tonks apologetically, gesturing with her hands at the window.
"No worries, Tonks," replied Emma, carrying two cups toward the younger witch. The kettle was floating on air with a non-verbal spell. "It's been stressful, you know, to keep track of what I am supposed to say or not," she said, sighing.
Tonks made another absentminded sound of acknowledgement. Emma noticed that she looked a bit down, not just distracted.
"It can be a tough bunch, the Order folks. Hopefully, they won't give you much trouble," she said, pouring herself some tea. Emma looked at her wearily as if she was not aiming for the cup.
"Uhm, I mostly see Eula and Kingsley. Maybe the Weasley's, too. I cannot say that anyone has given me much trouble, I am mostly here alone or upstairs brewing for—"
"Classified, mate," Tonks reminded her with a faint smile.
"Yes," replied Emma, becoming hot in the cheeks.
"How come you are all alone up here though? Remus and Sirius are at the Headquarters most of the day, no?" Tonks' tone was hopeful as if she cared for Emma to tell her about the specific routines of Lupin and Black.
"Uhm, Remus I do see him sometimes, but you know the house is big–massive really–" Emma swallowed anxiously, lifting her teacup closer to her lips.
"He has been on constant missions since the summer," Tonks said.
Emma was confused. Tonks looked sad, genuinely sad that Lupin was away often.
Then it dawned on her. "Oh," she exclaimed looking at the sad girl across from her. "You fancy him, don't you?" Emma asked briskly.
Tonks suddenly snapped into reality, abruptly and dropped her tea onto herself. "Damn," she said, whispering a cleaning charm swiftly.
Emma was ready to apologise, but then Tonks whispered, "You mean Remus?" she asked softly.
Emma nodded, unsure.
The other woman took a deep breath. "I don't just fancy him. I am in love with him," she replied intensely.
Emma was left astonished for a moment. Of course, it made sense, the glances, Tonks' shifting moods, and her desire for friendship when Emma was at the hospital. She needed to talk about it.
"Does he know?" she asked. Tonks then grimaced and nodded, sipping some tea.
"Oh, he knows," she said. "He has decided that I can do better–he decided that for me," she said irritatedly.
As Tonks poured her heart out about Lupin, Emma leaned in, engrossed in the conversation. It was as if she had never seen someone pine so hard for another person. Emma couldn't relate. She grimaced at the thought of pining after Willard or any of her past boyfriends. It just wasn't her style. The moment things became difficult or disappointing, she would emotionally withdraw.
Tonks' emotional outpouring fascinated her. Tonks wore her heart on her sleeve, unafraid to express her emotions openly. It felt liberating to watch.
Lost in her thoughts, Emma suddenly realised she had been staring at Tonks. She quickly snapped out of it and offered a supportive smile.
"Anyway," Tonks said, looking like she wanted to change the subject. "I just wanted to know if you see him around," she admitted.
"Not recently," said Emma, feeling bad for her. "He is always nice, though, when I do see him. Polite," Emma clarified.
"He keeps Sirius company," Tonks said with a sad smile. Emma clenched her teeth but tried not to show it. Maybe this was a chance to ask for information–since Tonks was bringing up Black.
"They seem close," Emma said invitingly. "Have they been friends for a long time?" she prompted. Of course, she knew the answer but wanted to see if Tonks would offer some hidden nuance that could relate to Peter.
"Remus and Sirius? Oh, they have been friends for ages, since Hogwarts, best mates," Tonks said. "When Sirius escaped from Azkaban it was hard for him to be locked here–he was still a fugitive and this place is no sanctuary for sweet family memories for him. I would know, as my mother is a Black and they are all mad–well not my mum. Or Sirius," she said jokingly. "Perhaps the only decent Blacks in a brood of blood supremacists," she added with a faint smile.
Emma nodded and tried to sound nonchalant. "It must have been hard, for your mother, I mean, when B–when Sirius was in prison," she said. It still felt odd to say his name.
"Well, my mum could never believe it. She had a hard time with it and felt bad for him, but I suppose there was not much to be done about Sirius then," she said darkly. "The poor bloke had to spend twelve years in there, without a trial, while Pettigrew lived as a rat in Molly's kitchen," she said bewildered. "Can you believe it?"
Emma dropped her teacup abruptly, not being able to control her hands. So it was the Weasley boy, who had the rat everyone mentioned in the papers. "S-sorry," she said flustered trying to regain her composure. Haring Peter's name was tough for her–if there was a small chance for Black to be telling the truth, Molly Weasley would know. The rat stayed there after all. Her heart was racing. She had to find out more about this.
"You okay there? You look like you've seen a ghost," said Tonks.
"Oh, yeah, don't mind me. Long day," she mumbled, smiling faintly.
"Well, I suppose it's also a sad story. Sirius', I mean," she added. "You know when all the old members were recalled, many of them thought he had actually lost it. The Dementors are nasty creatures and are meant to drive you insane. Apparently Sirius was also–uhm–laughing maniacally when he was arrested. Big blow to have your friend betray your other friends, to find them dead, and then to be framed and do time for something you didn't do. Honestly, there's no justice system," Tonks continued.
Emma of course also knew this detail. She felt a chill thinking of Black's laughing face amidst the explosion and all the corpses. But was it because he had a breakdown, as Tonks was saying, or because he felt all the adrenaline in committing those murders. Emma pursed her lips.
"So–he isn't…mad, after all?" Emma scoffed. "After everything, I mean," she added somberly, trying hard to hide her annoyance.
"Excuse me?" asked Tonks, confused.
"Black–you said he was laughing during his arrest," Emma said without thinking. Tonks looked confused, almost affronted by Emma's change in tone.
"Course not. I mean, you got to be left with some issues after all this trauma, but nah he is not mad, like insane," Tonks said amused. "Just a bit headstrong, Sirius is quick to anger, but he is a good person, warm, loyal. He always treated me like a younger sister since he found out I am Andromeda's daughter," Tonks said.
Emma remained silent for a minute and tried to gather her thoughts. She had a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Has Sirius done something to upset you?" Tonks suddenly asked.
"What? No, no," said Emma.
Tonks looked skeptical. "I noticed you sounded a bit odd when I was talking about Sirius," she said. Emma smiled comfortingly as if to alleviate Tonks' suspicions.
"I barely see Black around–Sirius, I mean. A bit odd considering it's his home, but if you tell me he has no happy memories, perhaps he spends his time elsewhere," Emma said, making an effort to sound neutral regarding Sirius Black. Tonks' features started to soften.
"He gets moody, Sirius. And he secludes himself, especially when Harry is off to school. He is probably hiding somewhere or taking care of Buckbeak. I just hope he is not drinking again," said Tonks, flailing her hands.
So Black was drinking. That was an interesting piece of information. A man brooding alone with booze and his regrets—it seemed that Black had many.
Tonks finished her tea and the conversation became lighter after a while. After a while, Tonks left and Emma's head was still buzzing though. She should have been more careful, she should not have been so startled regarding Peter and his alleged whereabouts in the Weasley home–but she never knew that detail. Her mind raced, wondering if she could somehow find out more, if not from Molly, then possibly from her sons.
With a glance at the window, Emma realised that it was already getting dark and the vial had to return upstairs as she needed to start working on the other one. She grabbed it carefully and went up the stairs. It wasn't completely dark yet, giving her a window of opportunity to steal twenty minutes away from her potion brewing.
What if she took a detour and explored some of the uncharted rooms on her way to the attic? She had never had the chance to venture beyond the current floor. Tonks was also gone and another member would be there soon to patrol the Headquarters for the night. And Black, well–perhaps he was passed out somewhere around the house.
Her heart raced as she cautiously surveyed the corridor, ensuring there were no signs of activity. What if she could find something that corroborated what Tonks had told her about Peter? What if Black had hidden something, somewhere?
Emma's pulse quickened, as she made a detour to the second floor. As she proceeded down the corridor, her eyes darted from door to door, contemplating which one to open first.
Emma's hand grazed the door bearing the inscription Regulus Arcturus Black . The name was unfamiliar, so she turned the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door, revealing a darkened room.
As Emma stepped inside, she found herself surrounded by a collection of Slytherin banners and memorabilia, seemingly frozen in time. The room appeared untouched, like a mausoleum dedicated to the memory of its occupant.
Her eyes scanned the space, taking in the photographs that adorned the walls—snapshots capturing someone's journey through Hogwarts, family portraits, and an assortment of personal items and clothes that once belonged to Regulus, whoever this was. Black was a Gryffindor, like Peter, so it could not have been his room, after all.
Curiosity overwhelmed her as she reached for a photo frame covered in a layer of dust. She blew away the residue. It depicted a slender young man with dark hair, bearing a striking resemblance to Sirius Black—She wondered if it was Sirius' brother.
Though Emma was aware of the significance of the Black family and their involvement in the Wizarding World, she knew that searching for information about Peter Pettigrew in Regulus' room would likely yield no results. With a final glance around the room, Emma silently turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
She was still buzzing with adrenaline and started making her way down the passage, when a door on the opposite side of Regulus Black's room swung open, revealing Sirius Black standing there.
Emma gasped, her heart skipping a beat, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the vial, preventing it from slipping through her fingers. "Oh, Merlin, sorry!" she mumbled apologetically.
As Emma was stammering an apology, she quickly took in his image. He was not a nice sight. He looked dishevelled, with dark circles and his hair was falling onto his face, his jaw was prominent and unshaven like he did not care too much to take care of himself. His cheeks were hollower since she last saw him in a way that made his cheekbones appear more prominent. Tonks was also right. He had a characteristic smell of drink and cigarettes, and judging from what he was wearing, Emma guessed he had not been out of his room all day.
"I am truly sorry for the intrusion," she mumbled again, but Black was looking at her intently.
"What were you doing up here?" he demanded, his tone sharp and his voice scratchy.
Emma knew she had to think on her feet. Had he seen her exiting the room of his brother?
"I was just heading upstairs to the attic," she said.
"The attic's two floors up," he replied, frowning a little. "Were you looking for something?" he asked again.
"I just got confused. I…I was just looking for something for my work upstairs," she stammered, betraying a hint of unease. "I am trying to…to solve a problem," she said.
"And what problem might that be?" he pressed, his frown deeper. He had his hands deep in his pockets and his body language was not aggressive, but was commanding in a way that made her uncomfortable.
"I–" she started but he cut her off.
"Where are you in Regulus' room?" he asked bluntly.
Emma felt her panic surge into her bloodstream as she held the vials tight. Black kept glancing all over her face, searching for something, his light blue eyes guarded but curious.
With a glint of annoyance, Emma decided to redirect the conversation. "Like I said, I just mixed up the rooms, and I apologise for the confusion," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of irritation.
Sirius Black was staring at her with a strange expression, a mix of curiosity and something else etched on his face.
Her eyebrows raised innocently as if she remembered something. She could not be intimidated, she needed a bluff.
"I was actually looking for you," she said, stepping back a little and opening her shoulders. "Silly me, it's such a big house and I confused the rooms. You caught me in a bit of an embarrassing situation and I admit I became a bit defensive. Eulalia would not like to hear I am getting lost around the Headquarters and not doing my work" she added, gesturing to Regulus' closed door.
"You needed to see me?" asked Black, ignoring the rest of her words and frowning deeper, in a way that made his eyebrows closely knit. "What for?" he added.
"Yes, actually, it's for your potion. The one Dumbledore asked for. I was looking for you to get your medical history, and Tonks told me you are usually upstairs, so…," she managed to smile a little.
He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, the gesture tinged with a hint of frustration. His intimidating presence had disappeared when Emma mentioned the potion. Interesting , she thought.
"Medical history?" Sirius repeated, looking at her.
"Yes, for your–your sleep potion," she said quietly. "I will be making it, I have started actually," she said and lifted the vial as if to show him.
Sirius's eyes widened slightly, his wariness giving way to a flicker of vulnerability. It was as if her words had struck a nerve.
He looked at her intently but eventually, he nodded, scratching his chin, his shoulders relaxing a little. "I... haven't thought about my medical history in years," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "But if Dumbledore believes it's necessary…" he sighed.
"I apologise if I overstepped," she replied quickly, her voice stable but guarded. "It's simply that Dumbledore believes your medical history might provide insight into possible remedies or treatments for…your nightmares," she added. Her bluff had clearly worked on Black as he looked anxious, almost defeated.
Sirius's gaze shifted away momentarily, his eyes distant as if lost in his thoughts."Hasn't Eulalia briefed you on my history?" he asked eventually. "I've tried everything," he added bitterly.
"Well, yes of course," she said, blinking. "It's just that I will be making the potion and–uhm–it's best to follow up with anyone who is getting treatment directly," she managed to say to his questioning. "I want to do a good job after all," she said earnestly. At least that was true.
"I see," he said, nodding. "Well, chances are that whatever you are brewing will fail as well, but since Dumbledore wants it, we shall all play nicely," he said and looked at her with a wary look.
Emma nodded understandingly. "I can imagine how exhausting and frustrating it must be. We're not promising miracles, but exploring different possibilities might lead us to something that can bring you… relief," she added, smiling a little.
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Alright," he conceded, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. "Let's sort this medical history tomorrow. I have something important to attend to, right now," he said.
Emma nodded in agreement, her voice casual yet firm. "Tomorrow it is then," she said. "And I am sorry again for the confusion," she said.
Black quickly waved his hand as if to say it was alright. He still had a wary expression and he turned to leave.
Emma watched him descend and only when she could not hear him anymore, she dared to exhale.
This was a close call.