Author's note:
Please check end of chapter for additional notes for anything marked with an '*'.
"I kiss your hands, grandma*." Magdalena saluted the old witch they had seen the night before, pressing her chin against her fence.
She wanted a coffee, no matter how poorly made and full of chicory it must be. And food. And the chickens in her garden were loud, and surely they must have laid eggs by now. Well, of course, she also had to gather everything needed for the funeral for old Manole, but that could wait. For now, she wanted to get Sirius Black out of her sight, while she would ponder her next steps. No matter her debt to Albus Dumbledore, she did not know just how much she could have her trust broken by this man, lying to herself that she was a benevolent spirit.
"Good be your heart, my girl." she answered in Romanian, furrowing her brows as she realised she had known Romanian all along. Slowly, she took her wand out, and with a trembling hand, waved it as the gate unlocked and opened. "Alone this time?"
"Alone, alone, grandma."
"Good. Good, good, good of you." She let out a smile, and for a moment, Magdalena felt inundated with warmth - be it how the sun was reflecting in the woman's eyes, be it the familiar tone she took, but suddenly, as if she unlocked something within her, she felt completely at ease. "Come, come on in. You want a coffee?"
Magdalena sat down at an enormous wooden table at the old woman's porch, and watched her prepare coffee in a small, doorless summer kitchen. The old witch's house had familiar smells, sounds and decorations - she immediately spotted striped, patterned fabrics along the walls that resembled Avizina's, and a chill went down her spine as she remembered her now-abandoned house. The fabrics must have rotted by now, unless they were magically charmed to remain intact - after all, most things in Avizina's house were charmed to not gather dust, and her enormous armoires would shake themselves off dust at least twice a day.
A few more years, and Avizina's house will probably look like Hedda's old house.
"Did you find what you needed there, doll?"
"I think so." Or at least, Sirius was looking into it as they spoke. "Say… did you know her, grandma? Hedda Ablai?"
"I did." the old woman put two coffees down, and hearing Magdalena's growling stomach, raised herself again, and went back to her kitchen a few steps behind her chair. "As much as one knows a mountain, or a tree in their backyard. She kept to herself - her and the Muggle. Well, it's a wizarding enclave here, and it's been like that for decades, so I never knew what they expected, to bring a Muggle here… Alas, what use to speak of it now." she waved a hand dismissively, and continued "She was solitary, but she still liked the drink. And liked to keep with the news. Speak only good of the dead and all, but she was nosy. Not unpleasant, but nosy. I had a nephew at Hogwarts - were you homeschooled, or did you go to Durmstrang?" Magdalena replied she was homeschooled, to which the old witch nodded in approval. "Same as my grandson - wretched place, I heard it became. But this nephew of mine - Luca, his name is- his parents left for London, and had him study at Hogwarts. The moment I told Hedda this, how the questions poured! Stana, tell me, who's the headmaster. Stana, tell me, who teaches Transfiguration now. Stana, tell me… I haven't stepped foot outside of the Carpathians, but I ended up knowing enough about Hogwarts you'd have thought I studied there. I myself would still have had that boy homeschooled, if it were my kid. But the stories Hedda had about Hogwarts…"
"What kind of stories, grandma?" Magdalena laughed, using her wand to help the old witch set the table without moving from her chair.
"Oh, it's impolite to talk ill of the dead, and they must all be dead by now, with how they lived." she grumbled dismissively. "Not a drop of alcohol since my hundredth birthday, and look at how much I've lived!" she waved a hand, and stretched her back, mumbling that Hedda lived long too, but did not live many happy days. "Tell me - what was your name again, doll?
"Lena."
"May you live long with your name, Leana." Stana said mechanically, bringing an enormous plate of fried eggs, cheese and bread to the table. "Don't you wish the same for me, because I can't wait to kiss the ground. I've already lived too long."
"Perhaps I've lived too long as well, grandma."
"Don't say such things, child, may the devil beat you. Hedda used to get kids at her door begging her to teach them how to extend their lives, and here you are now begging for the opposite. What do you have to die for? In your youth… is it a man? Is it that man? May the devil beat him too, he looks like he's been at death's door and lingered for too long."
"He has lingered there indeed." For more than a decade, forgotten by all. How do you cram twelve years of existence back into a man? How do you rebuild humanity where it has been sucked away by Dementors, alongside all feelings of happiness? "Do you have a hangover cure, grandma?" She waited for the old woman to raise herself and grumble that she may have some herbs somewhere, before putting her face in her hands, closing her eyes tightly.
There was Manole, with his wisps of grey hair and stubble, grinning at the moon as his weakened muscles pulled at his saggy, wrinkly skin. He trembled as he spoke, and she held his hand as they stared at the moon above and people below. Even in his weakened state, each time he spoke of his wife, his grip against her hand got tighter, and she almost did not want to let go of him as Sirius accompanied him back in the house.
There was dancing, and singing, and wine, and she imagined herself never having to leave. What if she were to move to Tosci? What if they were to find whatever Sirius was looking for, and he would say 'go, you are free', and she would remain there, and build her own life? She danced, and watched him dance, and his face eased and slowly, she could see a fire lit in his eyes. The wine must have gotten to either him, or her, or both, because he looked healthy, he looked alive, he looked handsome, and she remembered not instinctively recoiling at his touch, because his fingers were no longer cold and clammy, even when against her clothes - they were warm.
She knew this would be short-lived, however, even as the alcohol started affecting her, but she tried to forget, forget she even knew him, forget why they were there, forget this was a mission. But she would not have forgotten that. No. When she woke up, sore, when she looked at him, and looked at how he looked at her - expectant, fearful, repulsed, and slowly… slowly… relieved, she knew she did not forget anything.
She did not know what happened, but she did not forget.
And as they slowly climbed back to Hedda's house, with her eyes fixated to the back of his neck, she let the torrent of words pour in her head, biting her tongue so as not to accidentally let it pour out of her mouth.
You are a coward, Sirius Black. A coward, and a thief, and a scoundrel, and an animal. Your heart is of a dog even when your form is of a human. No wonder you did not go mad in Azkaban, the Dementors themselves would not want to get that close to your soul or what remains of it. And you wanted to be close to Harry - good on Albus for telling me to refuse you, and good on me that I did not pity you! I can't pity you, I can't pity any longer when you go over what I say, what I beg, must I beg on my knees? Or would you take advantage and step on my back to reach your goals? Would you? Good on Harry because he has his friends, and he has Albus, and he has his friend's family, because I wonder what you would do, what you would have done to that boy in your moments of madness - you have no one, Sirius Black, and no wonder, no wonder!
By the time she realised she was facing Manole's corpse, she was almost thankful for the death of the old man, as she could use it as an excuse to leave - to 'gather things'.
"I don't know what to do." Magdalena said as she watched Stana use a mortar and pestle to prepare a hangover cure. The old woman gave her the mortar, and she used her fork to scrape off a good amount of paste, and swallowed the bitter cure in one go.
"Do you love him?"
"Heavens, no." She muttered as her head cleared up almost instantly, and she felt her stomach settle.
"Then?" Stana asked, one brow arched so high it disappeared in her black kerchief covering her forehead.
"I made a promise. I promised, and I promise on my honour."
"You'll die with your honour, doll, and no one will weep for it. Who's he to you?" Magdalena chuckled amused at the old woman's stern attitude, and how much it reminded her of her long-gone mentor.
"A friend." she lied. He was the key to erasing her debt to Albus Dumbledore. The key to discovering if wizards can ever rid themselves of the depression, mania, and emptiness brought on by exposure to Dementors. But perhaps what Dementors break, no one can put the pieces back to where they belong. Because she has tried, but the results have been jagged, mismatched, and simply wrong.
Reminiscing about the events of last night that she could remember, thinking about how she felt when she woke up, for the first time since she had been aware of Fabian's goals, she felt not in control.
And what Magdalena feared most was not being in control, of herself or others.
She almost accepted the woman's offer to not return and remain there until she would figure out what her next steps were. Magdalena did not care much for what was hidden in Hedda's trunk, for the books from Mina Ablai's house that Sirius got and dragged with him…
But instead, she left to get what was needed for Manole's burial. Instead of obtaining the memory of that night back, she had Sirius Black prove his own humanity to himself by accepting his existence in the eyes of another. As she looked at the shadows of his body reflected in the moonlight, she wondered if he would indeed have a chance to become whole again.
Perhaps in another world, in other circumstances, in fifty years or so, they could be something akin to friends.
She opened her mouth to state her thoughts, when his mouth crashed against hers, and she realised at once why he must have erased her memories, and she felt utterly sorry for him.
You need help, but it cannot be me any longer, Sirius. You'll die, you'll destroy and be destroyed somehow, and I do not wish to take any part in any of it…
"Return my memories to me." she found herself pleading, her fingers interlocked in locks of his hair, and she swore she heard 'I will'.
Had she imagined it?
As they returned to England, she still found herself wondering this, but she found no chance of asking it. She promised to herself that she would when their paths would finally diverge. She told him that he can return to her house one more time to get the rest of Mina's books and the rest of the Polyjuice potion, but first, she arranged a meeting with Dumbledore at Madam Rona's pub, to let him know that she could no longer fulfil her promise.
As she arrived, Sirius alongside her once again in his Animagus form, she was met by a distraught Rona, the coins in her belt shaking as Magdalena saw a familiar face at one of her tables, before she was dragged to a separate room, in which Sirius barely managed to get himself in before Rona slammed it behind them. She felt a paw patting at her leg, which she ignored, knowing that Sirius must have seen Daniela, Mina's granddaughter that they had met in Albania, as well.
"When were you going to tell me?" Rona hissed in Romanian, which Magdalena chose to ignore, and she replied in English.
"Tell you what?"
"Don't play stupid, Lena, or I will turn you into a toy for your dog to chew on." Rona threatened, taking out her wand and pressing it against Magdalena's chest, ignoring the growlings coming from the dog. "I shut her up and asked her to not tell anyone, until I get my bearings on what your angle is here, stupid girl, travelling with Sirius Black!"
Magdalena was sure Sirius must have understood what was happening, as the growls stopped the moment his name was uttered.
"Albus Dumbledore is aware. It's not what you think. He'll be coming soon-" she murmured, and watched an expression of confusion appear on Rona's face.
"Black?"
"No, Albus, he'll be meeting me here, he should be here anytime soon. He can vouch for what has been happening- well, parts of it. He can vouch for Sirius Black. Who else knows, apart from you?"
"No one." Rona answered in English, removing her wand and putting it back in her belt. "Stay here, and don't move, not even back there. I'll keep an eye for Dumbledore and bring him, and he should be able to explain this clearly, for your sake."
Author's Note:
*I kiss your hands - normal (for those times, a bit old-school now) way of saluting someone older than you in Romanian
*grandma - casual way of calling an elderly woman in Romanian