Sirius stepped inside Ablai's house, pushing away at Magdalena's hand as she tried to pull him away. He walked in the living room smelling of myrrh, and followed the noises of mourning, until he reached the bedroom. Magdalena remained in the living room, but he continued walking without her. For a second, he saw a pair of two swollen feet half-covered by a white sheet, and by the time he got approached by one of the women who stopped their singing, it dawned on him that Mina Ablai was dead.
A short, gap-toothed woman clad in black asked him something he could not understand, and he shook his head, asking if she spoke English. Eventually, they found French as a common language, even though they could still barely understand one another, as her accent was regional and heavily accented, and his was a broken, dusty French.
"She's died. Died yesterday. Old age, old woman, what can you do?" she explained in French, shrugging. She did not seem to decry Albai's death, and turned to the other women, speaking in what he assumed to be Albanian, before taking off her kerchief and wiping her forehead. "You and your friend knew grandma?" she asked, pointing to Magdalena's turned back.
"You are her granddaughter too? I thought that…" he struggled with his phrasing in French, and took a pause before starting his sentence a different way. "Daniela is, was-"
"Dani? Grandma had - not all grandma's kids are her kids. I'm not, they're not-" she explained, pointing to the other two witches as she pulled her braids back and tied her kerchief back on. "Dani is. Dani can- Oi, Dani! She'll prepare you something." she leaned to the side, and Sirius watched as from behind Magdalena's back emerged Daniela's red face, wiping at her cheeks. The witch seemed to instruct her to do something, before excusing herself and going back to the bedroom hosting Ablai's body.
The dirge started once again, and he approached Magdalena and the granddaughter, who stopped talking as soon as they saw him.
"How did Ablai die?" he asked Magdalena, but the granddaughter spoke up instead.
"What do you care? Who're you? Who's he?" Her voice was full of indignation and high-pitched as she flooded both himself and Magdalena with a barrage of questions which he stopped paying attention to.
"Me and my friend Remus came here a few days ago, remember? I looked different, yes, but it was still me. Paid you and your grandma…" he spoke slowly, and watched as her eyes widened upon realization. He nodded, speaking slowly so the witches in the room across could not hear beyond the sounds of their mourning as he related the events of the day. "...and then she kicked you out because you've been dabbling in the Dark Arts-"
"Sirius!" Magdalena cried out, but he couldn't care less, as he bent down to be at the same level as the young girl.
"What are you talking about?"
"We spoke with Ablai after you left, and she told us why she threw you out that night… remember now?" he asked, aware fully that he knew no such details from the old woman herself, however, it wasn't like anyone else had been privy to Remus's conversation with her.
Daniela nodded slowly, pushing away her hair from her cheeks and pressing it back against her head. She took a deep breath, and looked at him with her big eyes, blowing out through her nostrils in indignation.
"What do you mean, dabbling in Dark Arts?" Magdalena frowned, and Dani turned to her, looking from one to the other. "What have you-" Daniela desperately put a finger over her lips, pointing to the room where the witches were still holding vigil. She shook her head profusely, to the both of them, and looked down on her knees.
Watching the young girl grasp her knees with her arms, not answering them, but desperately wanting them to shush, not for herself as much as for the others, made Sirius question now the events Remus described. And a realization dawned, this time on Sirius. She left without much of a fight because of pride, and because she had other places to go.
And with Ablai dead and only those three mourners by her side, she surely had not gone to another relative. There was nothing more dangerous and isolating than a teenager's pride, especially one who had no one else to turn to, apart from her even-more-prideful mother figure. She must have tried to take matters into her own hands, rather than own up and confess.
"You poor wretch- You're not crying because your grandmother died, are you?" he grumbled, trying to soften his tone. "That's why you were acting suspiciously , isn't it? And now that she was an old woman and it was her time, and now no one's going to-..."
"I just didn't know how!" the young girl hissed, clenching her jaw as she looked up at him.
"That's enough now." Magdalena finally spoke up, before approaching Sirius, and repeating herself, this time in a quieter tone. "Go now. I'll deal with this, go."
With the women in Ablai's bedroom, still shaking the walls of the small house with their wailing as if they were paid to do so, he felt free to explore the rest of her small hut. In the kitchen he only saw from afar on that misty day, he could see a clear demarcation between what was used for cooking and eating, and what was used for magic. While the part used for the former appeared messy, the part used for the latter saw heavy use, with jars upon jars of herbs and other ingredients for potions, alchemical circles drawn on parchment, and on a wall, above a wide, wooden cabinet, an enormous astronomy chart, which was still moving in its own. On it were annotations laid in thick, purple ink, which followed the stars closely, disappearing together with them or becoming larger as they approached him. Sirius couldn't help but notice the difference in the writing - how it became bigger and messier, the letters pushing and getting tangled into one another, tracking Ablai's deteriorating eyesight. He couldn't read Albanian, or whatever the language it was written in was, and left it alone, opening instead a drawer underneath.
"What are you looking for?" The gap-toothed witch approached him once again, startling him. In her absence, the mourns continued, yet she seemed to need a break, as she was unclenching her jaws widely as she spoke.
"Nothing in particular." He responded while moving away from the drawer, yet she seemed unbothered by him snooping through what was effectively a stranger's belongings. She simply shrugged, and looked through the drawer herself.
"I'm Rona." She introduced herself as she shoved a hand inside the drawer and rummaged through without a care through what looked like scraps of parchment, before proceeding to open another drawer. "Take whatever, you know. All junk here. They'll burn the house, when we finish burying her."
"Why?"
"Old tradition." Rona answered idly, and closed the drawer, emerging with an enormous white quill. She examined it closely, before tucking it in her skirt and going back into the bedroom.
"Take whatever you want."
Sirius turned to the source of the voice, and watched Daniela coming into the kitchen with hot tears in her eyes.
"I don't care about these things- you said you wanted to find your friend, right? There then, there!" She yelped, and grabbed a handful of books from nearby, throwing one in his lap, before storming off. He opened it, and looked through the indecipherable notes, thinking about how the gap-toothed witch passed by the books and appeared more interested in her various knick-knacks, declaring it all junk. No one there, save for him, appeared interested in old Ablai's knowledge as much as he was. He looked back at the astronomy chart, back at the old cauldron she had used, and chipped porcelain and silver saucers. All of that history, and knowledge. Gone with its owner.
A madness overtook him as he realized all of these books would be burnt to a crisp. Throwing an enchantment on his leather bag, he started collecting some of the books Daniela had left. By the time he started putting her books inside, Magdalena had arrived in the kitchen, and he explained his plan to her.
"If the ritual is in there… it can help us locate Peter, or maybe I can talk to Bertha again, tell her what I've learnt, and I could-"
"Sirius…"
"Don't you have a debt you want to pay, Lena? Pay your debt by helping me restore my name and set yourself free then!" He said with a mad grin, only interrupting his dash as he watched Daniela slowly bring an enormous wooden trunk, ornately decorated, yet also scratched across its entire surface.
"Rats have been trying to go through this thing for weeks now. I've been trying to open it for months, but it doesn't budge. It's just old books of grandma's, I've seen her open it- it's yours now. I don't care for it, but I know it won't burn either." She said, patting the top of the trunk. "I don't want the others to get it, they would only sell them for quick money, at least you can make use of it. Will you?"
Sirius nodded, and Daniela nodded alongside him, pushing the trunk.
"That's good… that's good." she said, wiping at her eyes.
He accepted the gift and thanked her, taking out his wand in order to make it smaller and place it in his leather bag. He listened in to Magdalena and Daniela talking as if they were sisters engaged in mischief, and not two people that were merely acquaintances. They whispered secrets to each other next to the stovetop, throwing each other now accusatory glances, now sweet gazes, before Magdalena finished by kissing her on both cheeks.
"-then rub your tongue and cheeks with a leaf of basil, chew it and swallow it. And with that, my love, I wish you better times, and I hope to hear nothing but the best. May Mina Ablai's old bones finally rest in peace." she said, and Sirius nodded, before digging in his pockets and grabbing some of the money that Remus had left him. With or without Magdalena's instructions, the young girl was sure in need of the money.
He approached Daniela, and shoved the money in her small and still damp hands, in spite of her pleas not to take it.
"You need it more than I ever will, kid, they're burning down your house."
"If this was my house, I'd burn it myself."
He had forgotten about Harry's letter until he found himself out of Ablai's house, the noises of mourning dying down which each step they took outside of the house. He took the letter out of his pocket, and continued walking until they could no longer hear the dirge.
"Come on, let's go." he grumbled, stopping Magdalena from taking a cigarette break. He watched her put the cigarette back, before continuing to unfold Harry's letter.
"How did you find out about Peter?"
Magdalena had caught up with him as he started reading through his experiences with his Muggle relatives, seeming quite interested in his answer. Her question caught him off guard, and it took him a moment before he composed himself. He had been prepared to answer this when she first came, but not after Ablai's death cut his chances of re-doing the ritual, not after he had received a letter from Harry.
"From the innkeeper." he responded mechanically, turning away from her and continuing to read the letter. He had to tell Harry, one day, that he had to explain more in depth what he meant by some of those things he wrote about when it came to Muggles. He could barely understand the Muggle terms he kept using - he did not know nor did he have much interest to know what a computer was, but felt a sense of ease as he could fall, even momentarily, in Harry's narration of his mundane life.
"How?"
Try to read me, come on, try to find out, he thought to himself as he stepped forward. Sirius raised his head from the letter as he finished the paragraph Harry wrote, and faced her head-on, taking a step forward until the only thing he could see were her frowning, hazel eyes. He took another as she stepped back, until his beard almost grazed her nose. With his other hand, he raised his wand slightly, yet not aiming it at her, not yet.
"I don't think it's any of your business, that." he growled. Anything that he did, for himself, for Harry, he had to come to terms with himself, not with anyone else. And certainly not with anyone from outside his ever-so-small circle - Sirius would not have told Remus what he did, how he had gotten into the innkeeper's mind and managed to extract that information, hell, he was happy that Harry would never know what happened in Albania and would not get to ask him that.
"Is that so, Sirius Black?" she murmured, in a voice barely discernible from the wind whistling through leaves. Yet in spite of her assured voice, Sirius felt her trying to not tremble, either in flesh or spirit, as her eyes dashed from his eyes to his hands, to his wand. "Do not take what I do for granted, thinking I am simply here at your beck and call until eternity. If I do something, it's not for your sake, or because I hold any affection for you, it's for my debt, and what's more, for that poor boy who has only you left!"
He was surprised at her mention of Harry, and when he spoke again, in spite of himself, his voice was calmer.
"And then what? Say I am no longer considered an escaped convict, I can build my life back- what with your debt, with that slate, what happens with you?"
"Then… then I will be free." she murmured, and Sirius, without peering into her mind but by simply looking at her, truly looking at her, for the first time since they had first met, understood. Understood the need, in her eyes and in her throat, to finally be rid of the past and what it meant, and to roam like a free animal.
He wondered if in those dark nights he spent alone, the same was as easy to read in his own eyes.
"Then help me." he said softly, recognising the look of desperation. "And you'll be free, my bird. You don't need to question me to help me, understand?" With that, he stepped away from her. Resolute that he had managed to compel and convince her, he placed his wand back in his pocket, and continued walking.
"What if you lose your humanity along the way? What then?" Magdalena asked, and without even turning back to look at her, he raised the letter.
"I've lost part of it along the way, but this… Harry's what tethers me still. And if I lose it all for him, then good, I'll say. Good use of it, and good riddance."
Sirius stopped in his tracks, however, as he continued reading, as Harry told him that for the first time in years, his scar hurt again. Can curse scars hurt years afterwards? The question rang in his ears painfully, as he did not know the answer. A scar like his was unique enough that he doubted many people knew the answer - the only person he could think of that could know would be Dumbledore.
Harry's fears about Voldemort being close, however, put a pang of worry in his heart. Since his imprisonment, Voldemort had been close twice before already - and Sirius had not been there to protect his godson.
But this time, he would be. Peter be damned, Harry's safety was more important than that.
He turned towards Magdalena, and watched her turn towards the direction fo Ablai's house, making the sign of the cross before lighting a cigarette. He walked towards her, and asked her for one as well, taking a deep swig as he finished the letter. He needed a short break before going back.
"We need to go back to England, bird. You'll travel with Barry for the next few days. He's a nice bloke though, you'll enjoy his company better than mine." he chuckled, half to himself, as he took out the flask of Polyjuice potion.
He'd need a bit of humor to keep himself sane.