Sirius sat up in bed with a gasp, his heart pounding against his ribs like a frantic captive bird. Sweat clung to his skin, cold and clammy. Bellatrix, again. Her raspy voice still echoed in his ears, the prickling sensation her presence left on his skin. This time it was very short, though. As if he was sucked out of his own dream, vacuumed out by some unexplainable force. It almost felt like he was apparating for the first time, like all those years ago when he practised as a schoolboy with Remus, James, and the rat. "Merlin's beard," he muttered, as he sat up on the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. Dumbledore must have been in his dreams. He made a mental note to seek out the old headmaster after this ordeal tonight.
He reached for the vial on his nightstand, his hand trembling slightly as he uncorked it. Eula's calming draught. He swallowed the bitter liquid in one gulp, welcoming its soothing warmth as it spread through his system, calming the frantic beating of his heart. The sweat on his bare chest was now causing him to shiver and he felt tense at the feeling of relief despite the chill.
A glance at the magical clock near the bed told him it was already six in the morning. He usually lingered in bed a little longer,but today was different. Tonight was the operation. He needed to be focused, and he also had to talk to Harry before, to resolve their misunderstanding and reassure his godson. There was no time to waste, he thought, throwing back the covers.
Swinging his legs out of bed, Sirius changed quickly, trading his sweat-dampened pyjama bottoms for fresh trousers and a shirt. He had a responsibility to Harry, to the Order, and he wouldn't let the shadows of whatever was haunting him now cripple him.
The insistent chirping sound cut through Harry's sleep. He mumbled, burying his head under his pillow, but the noise persisted, growing louder.
"Harry! Wake up!" Ron hissed, shaking his shoulder. "Your mirror!"
Harry groaned, wanting nothing more than to shove Ron away and burrow back into his pillows. But the mention of the mirror jolted him awake. He sat up, his heart pounding, and snatched the mirror from his bedside table.
"Sirius?" he whispered urgently, peering into the glass.
Sirius's face swam into view, but he looked horrible. His hair was a tangled mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was drawn and pale. Even at seven in the morning, he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Morning," Sirius said, managing a weak grin. "Figured I'd catch you before you vanished off to another thrilling lesson with Snivellus."
"It's Herbology, actually," Harry mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Harry felt a jolt of shame, since the last shouting match he had with Sirius.
Ron, perched on the edge of Harry's bed, raised an eyebrow. "Blimey, Padfoot, you look like you wrestled a troll and lost. What's going on?"
Sirius's grin vanished. He glanced around, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Anyone else awake?"
"Just Neville," Harry replied, nodding towards the lump under the blankets that was their snoring dorm mate. "He's out cold."
"Good," Sirius said, his voice tight with urgency. "Listen, there's a mission tonight, Harry. A big one."
Harry's stomach lurched. "A mission? Where?"
"I can't say much," Sirius said. "But listen, Harry, I called you to say that I believe you. About Malfoy. I know you suspect something's going on, and you're right. Ron, you keep an ear to the ground too. You'll eventually find something, some clue, but be careful. Don't go looking for trouble, you hear? I don't need my godson getting expelled for brawling with a ferret-faced git."
Harry stood up, feeling invigorated. "That's what I have been saying all along, but no one listens. Dumbledore thinks Mlafoy is not capable–" but Sirius cut him off.
"Dumbledore is aware of your concerns, Harry. He is just–I don't think this has to do with you, it has more to do with me. He thinks I am instigating you," Sirius said grimly.
"That's rubbish!" yelled Harry and Ron nudged him to be quiet, as Neville shifted slightly.
Ron puffed up a little at being included. "Don't worry, Sirius, we'll be careful. But what kind of clue are we looking for?"
"That's what we need to find out," Sirius said, his voice grim. "Things might… might change after tonight. That's all I can say."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "Change? What do you mean, change?"
Sirius shook his head. "Just… listen to me, Harry. Keep an eye on Draco Malfoy. And if you need help, ask. Stay close to your friends. You two watch out for each other, got it?"
Guilt gnawed at Harry. "Sirius, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have involved you in this. This is my problem, not yours."
Sirius gave a tired smile, but his eyes were hard. "Don't you worry about me, Harry. I'm a big bad dog, remember? I can handle myself. We'll speak soon. Maybe a Hogsmeade visit is overdue. Halloween, perhaps?"
Harry gave Sirius a faltering smile.
"Hermione won't be happy about this," Ron interjected, a frown creasing his forehead. "She hates it when we keep secrets from her."
Sirius sighed, a gruff, rumbling sound. "Girls, Ron. They don't need to know every single thing."
Ron and Harry exchanged smirks.
"Although," Sirius added, his voice turning serious, "she is the brains of the operation, that Hermione. You'll need her sharp mind for this. Just… try to ease her into it, yeah? If she starts getting too much like Molly with the worrying, you'll never hear the end of it."
Ron burst out laughing. "She can be a bit like Mum sometimes, that's for sure."
"We'll hold you to that, Padfoot," Harry said, a hint of his usual cheerfulness returning to his voice. "And we'll bring Hermione, too. She's been dying to get back to Honeydukes."
Sirius nodded, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment longer. "Stay safe, Harry. And trust your instincts. You've got a good head on your shoulders. Just don't let your temper get the best of you," his godfather chuckled.
"Say, you, Padfoot," Harry said provocatively.
"Well, and what did it get me?" deadpanned Sirius. "Detentions and twelve years in Azkaban," he added bitterly and Harry's heart dropped for a moment. "Take care of yourself Harry. No rash decisions," he urged, smiling a little before disappearing.
The mirror went blank, leaving Harry and Ron staring at their own worried reflections.
Harry gave Ron a meaningful look, as if to say, I've told you so and Ron Weasley shrugged innocently.
The next afternoon, Emma returned to Grimmauld Place and tried to look as normal as could be, given the fact that she knew her fellow members were not impressed by her absence during a planned operation. She found Eulalia in the hospital wing, her small frame moving fast and efficiently, as she organised potions and medical supplies.
It was clear, however, that Emma's stout mentor was not in a welcoming mood.
"Uhm, hi Eula," Emma announced herself softly.
She turned on Emma quickly and seized her up, a thunderous expression on her face. "Well, if it isn't the ghost healer," she snapped. "You made us worried, disappearing like that. Some might even call it downright irresponsible."
Emma flinched but she knew the older Healer was right. "Eulalia, I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "It was...a family emergency. I had to leave suddenly."
Eulalia snorted, her expression unconvinced. "Family emergency? Sounds a bit convenient, doesn't it?" She turned away, muttering under her breath about the irresponsibility of youth.
After a few awkward minutes, Emma, desperate to make amends, busied herself checking the stock of potions. "We're running low on Calming Draught," she noted, her voice carefully neutral. "Dumbledore will need more in two weeks. With the upcoming operation, he hasn't had time to deal with Black and his...nightmares."
Eulalia paused, her gaze hardening momentarily. "Yes, well, this batch is specifically for Black," she said, her voice clipped. "Extra strength, just the way Dumbledore ordered. Make sure he gets it. I have to go back to Mungo's and bring some supplies before we get short-handed again." With a final glare at Emma, Eulalia swept out of the room.
With a sigh, Emma tucked the vials of Calming Draught into her bag and headed downstairs. She found Sirius not in his usual spots – the dusty drawing-room or the shadowy library – but in the kitchen, hunched over a cup of tea. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, dark circles under his eyes accentuating his gaunt features and his fingers drumming restlessly on the table.
"Good morning," Emma said softly, approaching him cautiously. "Eulalia asked me to give you this." She placed the vials on the table beside him. "It's your Calming Draught for the next while"
Sirius Black looked up, his gaze meeting hers with a coldness that surprised her. It was as if he did not acknowledge the vials in front of him at all. "Back from your... personal matters, I hear," he said instead with a rough voice.
Emma felt a blush creep up her neck, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
"Yes," she stammered, "I, uh, I'm back. Everything's...sorted." She shifted her weight awkwardly, wishing she could disappear from the cavernous kitchen. Black stirred his tea awkwardly, looking away from her with an irritated expression. She was not entirely sure why but he seemed to be offended by her absence, a thought that made her cheeks hotter.
"Actually," she blurted out, desperate to change the subject, "I have something else for you." He then looked at her, the irritation slipping away for a moment to give space to genuine curiosity. She rummaged in her small charmed bag, retrieving his leather jacket that she had shrunk down to fit.
Sirius glanced at the jacket, a flicker of something akin to annoyance crossing his face. He seemed almost...disappointed. "Thanks," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "You know, you looked rather pale that day Buckbeak almost took a swipe at you. Thought you were going to faint, and then I heard you were ill. You do seem alright now, however," he observed. Emma was not sure if there was a question hidden there.
"Like I said, I am fine," she replied in a clipped voice. Why did this man have such intense mood-swings?
She remembered that day all too well. She had been flustered, yes, but mostly because Sirius had been so close and she had found his gesture unexpected. Now, remembering his intense gaze, his hand reaching out to steady her, she felt a fresh wave of awkwardness and defensiveness. She tugged at the sleeve of her tupe sweater, trying to appear nonchalant.
"I was just...surprised that night,that's all."
He then nodded and stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a jarring scrape. "I should get going." He turned to leave, his movements stiff. "Lots to do for the operation tonight. Make sure…you attend," he said in a strained expression.
Emma stared after him, utterly bewildered. She had expected a smile, a teasing remark, something that resembled the Black she knew, especially from that evening when she ran into the hippogriff. Instead, she received a cold shoulder and a hasty retreat. It was as if her absence had offended him. The thought, absurd as it was, sent a shiver down her spine.
She found Tonks waiting for her in the drawing-room, perched on the edge of a velvet chaise longue, a stack of books on Patronus Charms piled on the floor beside her.
"You're right on time," Tonks said, her usual playful grin replaced by a quizzical look. "Everything alright, Em? You still look a bit off"
Emma sank onto the sofa, her shoulders slumping. "It's nothing," she said but Tonks raised an eyebrow. Emma huffed. "I just gave Black–Sirius– his Calming Draught, and... and he was strange. Like I've done something to offend him."
Tonks' eyebrow was raised further."What did you expect? The man's a walking thundercloud. Always in a mood."
"Did you... did you say something to him? About... about my excuse for being away?" Emma asked, feeling a little frustrated at the clumsy witch.
Tonks shrugged, her gaze flitting away for a moment. "I might have let it slip," she said, biting her lip.
"Tonks!" grumbled Emma, looking wide-eyed.
"What does it matter what I said? He's Sirius. He's always brooding about something. Why do you care, anyway?" the Auror asked genuinely concerned.
Before Emma could press further, the drawing-room door creaked open and Remus Lupin stepped inside, tall, lanky, and greying but with a gentle smile gracing his features. "Ah, good, you're both here," he said, his gaze settling on Emma. "Ready for your Patronus lesson?"
Emma's frustration deepened. She shot Tonks another accusing glare.
Tonks grinned sheepishly. "Well, he is the expert, isn't he? Two heads are better than one."
Remus, oblivious to the tension, moved towards the stack of books, his brow furrowing as he scanned the titles. "Let's see... 'Advanced Patronus Techniques'... 'The Magical Properties of Happy Memories'...That's great."
"Alright, so Tonks here tells me you want to conjure a Patronus, which is great–we want all Order members to be able to conjure corporeal Patronuses. It's essential in communications, especially in critical moments," he said with genuine teaching fervour.
Emma just nodded, feeling anxious. It was not that she did not think of herself as intelligent, on the contrary, she was bright, but at the same time the interruption of her formal education was something that always made her uncomfortable. Arty had also never taught her a Patronus charm, of course.
"So we can start by focusing on a happy memory, something extraordinary. That's the hardest part, the spell itself is quite easy. Expecto Patronum" he enunciated clearly.
After a few minutes of failed attempts, Emma realised this was no easy task.
"Focus, Emma," Remus said gently, his voice a calming presence amidst the turmoil in her mind. "Clear your thoughts. Find that memory, that spark of pure joy."
Emma closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration. She tried to conjure up a happy memory. But each memory felt distant, shrouded in a haze of anxiety and uncertainty.
"Think of something powerful," Tonks urged, her voice laced with a hint of urgency. "Something that truly makes your heart sing."
Emma delved deeper, searching for a memory that resonated with genuine happiness. And then, it surfaced: her mother, Penelope. She saw her mother's warm smile, heard her gentle laughter, felt the comforting weight of her hand in hers. She remembered a sunny afternoon spent in their garden, her mother's voice weaving tales of magical creatures and faraway lands.
The memory, vivid and pure, filled Emma with a surge of warmth. She clung to it, letting it wash over her, chasing away the shadows of doubt and fear.
"Expecto Patronum!" she cried, her voice trembling with both hope and desperation.
But the spell faltered. A wisp of silvery smoke emerged from the tip of her wand, shimmering for a fleeting moment before dissolving into nothingness. Emma felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, and she fell back against the sofa, her breath catching in her throat.
"Easy," Remus said, his hand reaching out to steady her. "It takes time. Don't be discouraged."
Emma opened her eyes. She had failed. Her grasp on happiness seemed too tenuous.
"Right then, you lot, listen up!" Moody roared, his voice booming through the drawing room where everyone was gathered to Floo near Augustus Rookwood's home. "We've got a bloody important job tonight, so pay attention!" He jabbed a gnarled finger at a map spread out on the table before them. "Rookwood's. That's our target. We believe You-Know-Who's stashed some dangerous artefacts there, and we need to get our hands on them. Anything out of the ordinary, anything hidden in the vaults that looks important to the Dark Lord must be seized," he added, licking his lips.
He pointed to a group of witches and wizards, including the Weasley twins, their expressions a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "This lot's in charge of disarming the wards. Fred, George, you sure you're up to this? No room for your usual shenanigans tonight."
"Don't you worry, Professor," Fred grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "We'll have those wards down quicker than you can say 'Fizzing Whizbees'."
Fleur was holding Bill by the arm tightly, whispering something about the wards. Sirius wanted to roll his eyes, but preferred to maintain his energy for the actual fight tonight.
"Just make sure you do it quietly," Kingsley added, his voice a low rumble. "We don't want to alert the enemy before we're ready."
"We'll be on it, too," Bill added, extricating himself from the girl next to him.
Sirius shifted impatiently, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand tucked securely at his side. He was itching for action, eager to face the Death Eaters head-on. He'd been cooped up in this dusty old house for too long, his thirst for a real fight growing with each passing day.
Moody's gaze swept over the room, his eye settling on a group of witches huddled together, Molly Weasley's imposing figure at their center. "Arthur, Molly, Fleur, you lot stay put here. We need someone to hold down the fort, just in case things go pear-shaped."
Molly's face was pale, her fingers twisting nervously at her shawl. "Are you sure that's wise, Alastor?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Perhaps Arthur can join, to keep an eye on the boys. Wouldn't it be safer if you all stayed together?" she said, turning to her husband who looked sympathetic but did not concede.
"No, Molly," Lupin interjected, his voice calm and reassuring, though Emma noticed a tightness around his eyes, a hint of the strain he was carrying. "We need someone to stay here, to protect the headquarters. You're the best people for the job. Plus, it is hard to fight along family members."
"But Arthur..." Molly began, her voice choked with worry.
"For Merlin's sake!" Sirius exclaimed, his voice sharp with impatience. "We haven't got all night to stand around fretting! Now, let's get going!" he said irritated at the delay, and the fretting comments. He caught a sneering look from Eulalia Shacklebolt who stayed near Molly, and his gaze fell briefly on the other healer girl, who stood with her arms crossed near the fireplace and gave him a look of surprise from his outburst.
He cleared his throat a little and made his way toward the fireplace, briefly touching his hand on the inside pocket of his blazer.
Lupin shot Sirius a warning look, but the tension in the room had broken.
Molly, though still pale, straightened her spine and muttered something about preparing supplies. Everyone else started preparing to leave.
Everyone stayed close to their groups and entered the Floo.
Tonight they were fighting.