Chapter 30 is out!


Scala ad Caelum

Chapter 30: Salazar's Legacy

Albus Dumbledore POV

Albus had walked through these corridors far more times than those a man could count. The Great Sorcerer believed himself to be the man who knew the most about Hogwarts—not counting the Four Founders, of course.

Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff; four historical figures he had always admired and respected in equal measure. Some of the greatest minds in the history of the Wizarding World, whose biggest accomplishment, among the many feats that could be attributed to their names, was the creation of Hogwarts; a place in which the magical children could learn how to make their dreams come true.

However, dark whispers had always accompanied the most enigmatic of the Founders—whispers that became real horrors fifty years ago. Life for wizards in the past had been much harder and dangerous, Albus understood it very well; just as he did with the actions of Salazar. He would never share them, of course—even though his past self would certainly give them more than a thought—but he understood the need behind those actions of a desperate man. A brilliant mind who distrusted those who were different from him.

Oh, the Chamber of Secrets, how many headaches had it caused him? Far more than those Albus would have wanted, that's for sure—just as many as the restless days, in which all the Headmaster could think about were those poor muggle-borns whose lives were in danger just because of some old prejudices from much darker years of the past.

Salazar Slytherin swore that it was his duty to purge the school; he knew how to do it. A monster that embodied all the horrors Salazar was ready to inflict upon those he did not trust—a magical creature turned into a myth. Albus was almost sure of what kind of beast the Monster of Slytherin could be; it was so fitting that it could be considered poetic! The ability to petrify humans, even if that hadn't been its objective; the ability to coward other predators like the acromantulas were; and most importantly, a physical representation of what Salazar considered to be mighty and magical.

The Founder had chosen a basilisk as his paladin of justice, one Albus would take down in the next few hours. It was time to destroy that breach between ages, for the newer and safer times needed to completely erase from memory those in which the magical race could not live in peace.

That was a duty he was bound to compel as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The key to the Chamber lay in the abandoned bathroom, Longbottom had told him. The one where poor Myrtle Warren died many years ago. However, as Albus entered the dirty and stinky place, he found nothing; just as the many times he had tried in the past. "I should not have expected less from one of the Founders, eh, Salazar?" Albus muttered with the hint of a sad smile on his face.

There was a riddle meant to be solved there, he could tell. One Slytherin himself had come up with to deny the Chamber's entry to all the people but his heir. Unfortunately for that dead man, it was long ago when Albus ran out of patience and time.

It came deep out of the Great Sorcerer, like a primal roar. A sudden burst of magic made everything around him explode—the ceramic of sinks and toilets alike was shattered into uncountable pieces as the water flooded the room, strong torrents of water that crashed against an invisible wall before him. The light from the torches was extinguished with ease, allowing the penumbra to take over the bathroom. Yet, in that brief instant before the lights went off, right in the middle of the room, where a circle of sinks had stood a few seconds ago, some oval hole was revealed.

Dark as coal itself and seemingly endless, the tunnel created a man-made freefall.

At that moment, Albus realised something: there was no trace of those white and blue tiles which had always formed the bathroom's floor. Save for a little circle of tiles, of which he stood over, there was a carpet of sandstone and some grey rock with multiple patterns carved into it—patterns of large snakes and ancient glyphs.

Albus recognised a few of them: freedom, magic, justice and royalty among others. Oh, Salazar. I find myself pretty sad at this moment! Oh, to see how mistrust and fear could cloud such a brilliant mind as yours! The Great Sorcerer shook his head in disgust. No, it wasn't time for pity and weakness. He needed to be strong, for those who couldn't and for those who trusted him.

That was what the name of Albus Dumbledore meant.

I never desired for this burden to rest upon my shoulders. Albus jumped into the hole, the Elder Wand ready at hand. Fool, you should have thought about that before committing all those sins and mistakes in the past. It was your own actions that condemned you! The slime and the residual water which coated the hard surface allowed his body to easily slide over the large tunnel, like a child would slide over a sledge. The sliding created loud and sticky sounds. Bit by bit, the speed of his fall increased. He could tell by the wind which constantly hit his face, for the tunnel was as dark as Tom's heart. I tried to reach too far in my youth—some suffered because of it, and now it is my duty to make it up to the world.

Albus landed on his feet after an entire minute of sliding, his old knees cracking in protest. Suddenly, one by one, a hundred of blue, flaming torches were lit around him. A large corridor was revealed to the old man, made of the same grey stone he found at the surface. It has the same patterns and glyphs, Albus noted with a quick look. It smelled horrible down there; death, faeces and… Was that a touch of lavender?

It was a very faint scent, but it reigned among the others due to how out of place it was. Albus stood rooted in the spot where he had landed for a few seconds, trying to process that last detail. No matter how hard he tried, the Great Sorcerer couldn't find an answer to that mystery.

In the end, as it always happened, the only way to go was forward.

And so, the Great Sorcerer started to walk through the large and damped corridor. Around him, there were countless, little statues which were as tall as a regular man—they all portrayed snakes with gleaming, black gems as eyes. Albus felt observed the entire time. Along the way, he felt nothing—neither a magical aura nor a living presence.

Finally, he reached a circular door made of the same grey stone as the corridor was. It was, at least, ten times his size, with a thin, oblique line that cut it into two identical halves. Around it, following the borders of the perfect circumference, there was a long snake that went all the way around; the creature bit its tail at the apex of the circle.

The Chamber of Secrets must be hidden behind this door. Now, I just have to find a way to open it. Albus placed his hand over the cold surface. The large door opened to him, slowly, granting him enough time to hold his breath. What? In front of him there was a huge chamber, so tall his eyes had trouble distinguishing the ceiling, which was held by hundreds of stone pillars.

The Great Sorcerer stepped inside the Chamber of Secrets. Instantly, he felt a heavy atmosphere. Salazar's most precious secret, he couldn't help but to feel amazed by the discovery. There was a long road that led to the end of the Chamber, flanked by twin corridors of dirty water at both sides. Albus followed the path until the huge cavern opened to the sides—at first glance, the old man estimated that it was equal to an entire floor of Hogwarts.

At the far end of the cavern, there was the biggest bust Albus had ever seen. Of white stone and black gems as eyes, the gigantic face of Salazar Slytherin stared back at him. Its mouth was wide open in a silent scream—whether it was a rageful or euphoric one was something he couldn't tell. However, even if it was one of the most shocking things he had ever seen, it greatly paled to what Albus found at the statue's feet.

There, sat on her knees and perfectly still, was Ginevra Weasley. Her fiery-red hair, now a few shades darker because of how damped it looked, completely hid her face from Albus' eyes. "Weasley?" The Great Sorcerer whispered. Her presence there could turn the worst of Albus' nightmares into a placid dream. He had prepared himself for a hundred different problems, but this wasn't one of them.

The girl, too far from him to hear a mere whisper, kept writing on some black notebook that shone like a firefly. His gaze fell over it, and, much to his surprise, its leather cover looked as dry as the sun itself. Albus stood rooted on the spot—what was happening? Why on earth was Weasley here? His mind analized a thousand possibilities, but none made any sense.

Albus took a few steps forward. The heavy atmosphere got even worse, enough to make his stride falter—such was the power of the Chamber of Secrets' presence! Fool, keep your composure. This is way worse than it first looked. The students were supposed to be under the Professor's strict watch; all but Longbottom, Davis and Williams, of course. Wait… Is this the way you managed to open the Chamber this time, Tom? By using an innocent girl as your puppet? How could you set your dark threats over her?

The Elder Wand flared in his hand when a sudden presence appeared right behind him. Albus turned around with the speed of a snitch, but his determination disappeared as soon as he realised in front of whom he stood face to face. "Tom," the Great Sorcerer let out a surprised whisper.

"Long time no see, Professor," Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known by the name of Lord Voldemort, greeted him back with a nod of his head. "This encounter of ours was fated to happen. Sooner or later, I needed to get rid of the biggest obstacle I would ever find in my way."

Tom gave an impression of…, youth; there was no other way to describe it. He looked a tad paler than Albus remembered, barely brighter than a ghost. There also was something weird about the way his magical aura felt, but everything else was accurate enough to ice the blood in his veins. The same black, fine hair; those brown eyes which seemed to stare through other people's souls, like two endless pits of venom… And that aura of arrogance that had allowed him to become the hero of those who seeked for the pure blood to reign over the rest.

It was long ago when Tom abandoned his human appearance, yet there was no mistake there. This was Tom in flesh and blood.

"It was you all along," Albus stated in a cold voice, his lips so thin they almost looked as one white line. The first seconds of surprise had been buried deep inside him. This would be a duel that required his total focus.

"Of course it was me," Tom replied, huffing in annoyance as if the mere idea of another person taking his place was inconceivable. "I am the Heir of Slytherin—I and only I shall embrace that honour. Only through my veins runs Salazar's blood." As the words left his mouth, his presence grew stronger. "My ancestor swore an oath to purge the school from the unworthy. I must carry it out."

Those words made a dent in Albus' plan—those weren't words that should have come from Tom's mouth. Sure, arrogance had always been his fatal flaw, and his connection to Salazar Slytherin was the final proof that he belonged to the Wizarding World. However, Tom's story had always been about him and only him. On the contrary, this man in front of him bragged about other wizard's ambitions.

On top of it, Tom had not even flinched when Albus called him by his original name. The one he had always detested so fervently—the one that was replaced by his alias, Lord Voldemort, as he grew older and more powerful.

"You aren't the real Tom," Albus said with a surprised tone. From the very beginning, the Great Sorcerer had been aware of that fact, for there was no way to accomplish such a feat—not even Tom, who had pushed magic to its limits multiple times, could come back to life in such a magnificent state without Albus noticing it first. Despite it, he had been so blind by surprise and fear that, for a few seconds, Albus forgot all the things he knew about magic.

Tom's face became more ashen as his silhouette faltered a bit, his left eye twitched in a rapid succession. A spectre of magic? No, it was too powerful to be such an easy trick to perform. This was something else—a riddle he could not solve.

"I am the Heir of Slytherin," Tom spat in a venomous voice. "And you shall die, Albus Dumbledore. Oh, but not today! I swear I will cripple you until there is no ounce of strength left in your soul! I shall allow you to see how I massacre all the people of this castle! And then and only then, I will kill Harry Potter, the brat who dared to oppose me!" Tom suddenly disappeared, like a pile of ashes carried by a streak of wind. "I swear this world will never presume me dead again! I shall become Lord Voldemort once again."

That last part came out as a whisper; one that echoed around the whole chamber.

Albus turned to look at Ginevra, who now stared back at him. Her eyes were of liquid gold; two lamps of pure hatred and rage. The Chamber of Secrets trembled, and a loud hiss came from the statue's mouth.

The Great Sorcerer instantly looked down, just in time to miss how the Basilisk came out of the statue. This is it. A battle like I haven't experienced up to this day! Mighty creatures the basilisks were—one of the most horrific creatures to ever walk the planet, indeed. However, if the legends were true, the Mightiest of the Snakes was nothing but a wizard's creation.

Albus created a large shield around him. He felt something bumping into it, with enough strength to almost shatter his magical barrier. The eyes. I must take its eyes out. The Elder Wand came to life, and so did Albus with it. To his command, the water canals of the Chamber erupted like a volcano. The torrents danced around him in the form of water tornados, putting some distance between the wizard and the Basilisk.

The Basilisk was quick enough to slither through the pillars of water, but it didn't take Albus by surprise. With a snap of his fingers, part of the water turned into a torrent of solid rock. He couldn't use his sight in this combat, but neither did he need it. His magical senses could follow the serpent's movements with extreme precision, for the creature's aura was one of the lightest beacons the old man had ever seen.

Every time the Basilisk lunged at him, a wall of stone was formed in its way. The serpent did not falter and tried as many times as its bloodlust instiget it to, but Albus could keep that strategy for as much time as he needed—after all, he was a master of Transfiguration. Around him, he had an almost infinite source of water, one of the Four Elements; a wizard like him couldn't ask for more!

Fawkes, it is your time to shine, my old friend. The Great Sorcerer allowed the Basilisk to get a bit closer, yet the walls of stone kept appearing to stop the beast. Fawkes was near, he could tell. He just needed to win a few more seconds, even a minute.

Once the serpent's eyes were out…

With a proud cry, the loyal phoenix entered into the Chamber of Secrets. Now! Albus changed his strategy drastically. The Elder Wand now moved like a whip in his hand—each unleash came accompanied by a bolt of energy. However, living up to his fame as one of the most dangerous magical creatures to ever exist, the Basilisk was only forced to move backwards. Its incredibly tough skin allowed the beast to withstand the Great Sorcerer's assault with little trouble. Two can play the same game of endurance, serpent. The wizard did not cease, and so, the bolts of energy came out of his wand much faster and powerful; they all echoed around, like a furious cry of battle that broke the silence of the Chamber.

The floor creviced and rock dust started to fall from the ceiling. As if feeling the damage caused to the Chamber, the Basilisk let out a thunderous roar, just when Albus ceased his barrage. At that moment, Fawkes descended from above, claws and beak ready to gouge out the serpent's eyes.

However, a bit faster than Albus could react, a purple curse hit the phoenix right in the wing. As the majestic bird stumbled, the Basilisk tried to sweep it out with its tail, but the wizard managed to raise a shield in time. It shattered like a piece of glass, but Fawkes had been able to rise up again.

With utmost care, the Great Sorcerer's eyes raised for a second. Ginevra Weasley now stood on her feet, wand pointed at the flying phoenix. "I will not be bested today, Dumbledore!" Tom's voice echoed around. "I will not fall here!"

For Albus, this was the worst possible situation. I can't go all in with Ginevra so close to the fight. His way of attacking changed, but the intensity remained. With a quick flick of his wand, the pillars of water turned into liquid blades—more than a hundred swords now swarmed the serpent. Then water turned into steel as they rocketed towards its prey.

Thanks to the constant and acute tapping, Albus came to know that his attack had failed. With the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his swords—they fell all over the Chamber, totally melted. A wave of poison? Just in case, the Great Sorcerer raised a dome of rock around him.

Albus was starting to lose his patience. Fawkes was wounded and the fight had taken a turn for the worse. He could always stop fooling around and erase the Basilisk from the planet with a stronger spell, of course. But, as long as Ginevra remained close to the serpent, that wouldn't be a possible move. With a frustrated sigh, he blasted his cover away—instantly, the debris was condensed into solid chains of the same material that spiralled around like tornadoes of dust and rock.

He tried to immobilise the Basilisk, but it was a futile tactic. Albus felt how Fawkes waited for the perfect chance to strike, but it didn't come. "You are weak, Dumbledore," Tom roared. "So much power and might… What a waste!"

The sound of footsteps reached his ears. Not this! Ginevra ran in his direction, throwing multiple, weak spells at him—they couldn't even get past his magical aura, shattering the moment they came into contact with it. Albus sent a soft wave of water at the girl, strong enough to pull her out of the fight. This was his chance, he realised. The current tried to get the girl out of the Chamber, but Tom's silhouette appeared right over her, enveloping Ginevra in a purple bubble that pushed the water aside with little trouble.

A sound of slithering told Albus he had neglected his back for far too much time. A wave of venom came in his direction, but a flaming shield of light was born in the way. It was both fascinating and horrific to see the Basilisk's venom in action. Had it been a spell, it would have lacked the raw power to even create the faintest of the dents in the magical shield, however, the venom ate the spell away like a fire consumed a sheet of paper.

Albus reinforced his shield again and again, just as he tried to pull Ginevra out of the Chamber with the current of water—it would have been much easier if he hadn't needed to control his power in order to not hurt the girl. He had clearly miscalculated, too confident in his abilities to even think in the possibility of having to fight seriously. And now it was time to pay the consequences. I'm sorry, Ginevra. I promise I'll try to not hurt you a lot.

Albus closed his eyes as his body was filled with raw magic.

Just when the Great Sorcerer was about to let his magic loose, a blue flash illuminated the Chamber of Secrets. Suddenly, the Basilisk let out the most guttural roar he had ever heard; a noise loud enough to cloud his mind with a faint dizziness. Fawkes also roared, victorious, and Albus couldn't stop his eyes from raising.

At the other end of the Chamber, he found a ghostly woman kneeling over one leg. With a moonlight dress and gleaming blue skin, she carried a long blade of the same colour, its curvy edge tainted by a layer of a green substance. Basilisk's blood! She raised her eyes to stare at Albus. No, to stare through Albus at the shadow behind him. It was a cold and hateful look, one like very few he had ever seen, that she sent at Tom.

"You!" Tom roared, half surprised, half horrified.

"I swore an oath to him," the woman just said, eyes still fixed on Tom, as her body faded in an explosion of blue voluttes of light.

The Great Sorcerer felt a moment of doubt from Tom, and he used it to turn the fight around. The current of water pushed the espectre aside, taking Ginevra, still trapped in the violete bubble of his, as far from the battle as Albus could. Tom roared in rage, but Albus sent him into a wall with a potent and precise burst of magic. Fawkes croaked above him as the phoenix flew towards the young girl.

Then, for the first time in the battle, Albus raised his eyes to stare at the Basilisk. It was larger than the mental image he had of it, that was his first impression—probably, above the fifty metre mark. With tough scales of a green and black colour protecting its skin, the Basilisk reminded him of a dragon. The King of Serpents hissed in pain as its head lurched around in frenzied movements. From its eyes, those dangerous weapons Albus had avoided with the utmost care, two rivers of green blood were born; the substance fell all over the Chamber's floor, mancillating the home that was built for the creature.

The Basilisk slithered back, towards Salazar's statue, until the serpent stood right in front of that black notebook.

"You blinded my Basilisk!" With great effort, Tom managed to escape from Albus' magical prison. The shadow disappeared for a moment, just to materialise atop of the serpent the next second, kneeling over its large head. "You stole the girl from me… My precious servant!" Tom exclaimed as he became more translucent. The spectre opened his arms above his head. "I shall become the eyes of Salazar!"

The Basilisk, which had taken a passive stance since the moment its eyes were blinded, now roared with a euphoric cry as its head moved like a whip in the Great Sorcerer's direction. His connection with Fawkes allowed him to know that Ginevra was in a safe place, out of the Chamber of Secrets. Albus gave the hint of a triumphal smile, for he no longer felt the need to fool around.

The Elder Wand was pointed at the Basilisk, which charged at him with its mouth wide open. "In the name of Hogwarts and all the Headmasters that came before me," Albus started. "Today, I put an end to the Chamber of Secrets and the horrors it harbours." A beam of white, flaring light was born from the Deathly Hallow. Little chance stood the wave of venom that opposed his spell, just as little as the Basilisk itself.

The earth trembled, and a cloud of dust and rock fragments covered the Chamber. Plenty of debris came in Albus' direction, but the sheer force of his spell was enough to disintegrate it. After a few seconds, the Great Sorcerer put an end to his flow of magic and dispelled the cloud of dust.

In the spot where the King of Serpents last stood, there was nothing—neither a dead body, nor a drop of blood. A large furrow of destruction went through the entire Chamber of Secrets. At its end, where the regal bust of Salazar had been risen, a large, gaping hole had appeared—Albus couldn't see its end due to how dark it was inside, but a weak and constant flow of water came from it.

"When did it come to the moment in which you decided to oppose me so fervently, Professor?" Tom said as he appeared right in front of Albus, mere metres away. His eyes were two pits of hatred, but his voice remained neutral—he had lost, and they both knew it. "Was it when we met at the orphanage? Or was it when those morons started to worship me like a deity, back during my sixth year of school?"

His figure no longer looked like flesh and bone. Almost dull and losing consistency with each second, Tom waited for a response. What is this shadow? He certainly talks like the Tom who used to live in this castle, just as he possesses his memories. A vague idea started to form in the Great Sorcerer's mind. "Back at the Battle of the Firelights," Albus replied with a calm voice.

Those words confused Tom, who could not suppress the doubts from appearing on his face. Albus smiled, triumphantly. "Oh, I see," the Headmaster hummed. "The mere mention of that battle, in which Lord Voldemort and his armies were crushed for the first time in the brief story of the War, with me at the head of the resistance, used to cause so much rage in you, that earth itself creviced around you. Moreover, you haven't snapped at me for using your real name, Tom."

The shadow's confusion increased, he could tell.

"Oh, I know what you are, even if I can't understand how a being like you came to exist," Albus said. "You do not feel rage at the mention of your name and the battle because, when you were created, you harboured no ill feelings towards them. You, shadow, came to exist before the name of Lord Voldemort was born. You, shadow, are just a little fraction of his soul. You, shadow, built your identity around the Heir of Slytherin persona, too lost trying to make Salazar's ambitions come true to realise what your real character was. You, shadow, are the first successful Horcrux I've ever witnessed, yet, when compared to the man you would become, you are nothing."

For the first time in his life, Albus saw fear in Tom's face.

"The Horcrux was the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, right?" The Great Sorcerer asked, even if he didn't expect an answer. "You, a cursed item, an aberration of nature, with the help of Ginevra Weasley, freed the Basilisk that had waited for your return for years and years." Albus' lips thinned in a furious expression. "Using other people to do as you pleased has always been one of your main talents, eh, Tom?"

The shadow took a few steps back, but he quickly regained his composure, as if he had realised in what a pathetic way he was acting. "It does not matter," Tom muttered as he shook his ghostly head. "It does not matte-" He let out a strangled gasp, his hands making their way to his heart.

His head quickly turned around, and Albus imitated him. There, near the large, gaping hole at the end of the Chamber, the point of a curvy, ice-blue sword went through the black notebook, which no longer shone amidst the darkness of the cavern. The Basilisk's blood still coated the blade, falling over the notebook like drops of sweat from a forehead. That's the same sword the spirit carried! How is this possible? What is happening here?

At that moment, Albus understood there were more forces involved—just like him, dancing around Tom's tune, conditioned by his acts.

Suddenly, Tom disappeared. Just like that. The Great Sorcerer found himself alone in the Chamber of Secrets. That day, Salazar's ambitions had finally died.

"That notebook was your anchor to this world, right, Tom?" Albus muttered as he walked towards it. He felt a bit tired; exhausted but relieved. When he made it, the Headmaster took both the sword and diary in each of his hands. They felt cold. Lifeless.

The blade vanished under a cloud of a faint mist, but the notebook remained, with a hole that went from one cover to the opposite—the Basilisk's venom still oozed like acid. At some point of the conversation he held with Tom, the spirit must have coated the sword with the beast's poison. Albus opened it, but there was nothing written on it; not even on the little surface that had escaped from the venom. "An Horcrux that was able to develop a conscience," the old man sighed. "Only you could do it. Does magic even have limits for you, Tom?"

The Heir of Slytherin was dead, and Hogwarts would live to see another day—many more dawns, if possible, too many to count them. Yet a storm of questions swarmed Albus' mind. How would the destruction of his Horcrux affect the real Tom? What came next? How did those aberrations of nature work? Was it possible to create more, even if they weren't as powerful as this one had been? Who was that woman-shaped spirit? Why did her aura feel so familiar?

I must cease this stupid behaviour of mine, Albus reprimended himself. He needed to tell everyone the good news—the students and their families deserved to feel safe once again. That last thought brought a certain face to his mind. Ginevra Weasley waited by Fawkes' side! How did she come to fall under Tom's chains? He shook his head. No, what she needed was for Albus to take her to the medical wing, not some old man rambling about unanswerable questions.

With a firm stride, Albus made his way out of the Chamber of Secrets.


Daniel Williams POV

The swinging of the fast gait rocked his body over and over. Daniel could hear many voices around him, that came from every direction, but he couldn't understand what they said. Madness, stupid and duty were some of the words the boy's tired mind grasped.

The horse jumped over a little brook and he almost fell from its croup. Daniel tried to get a stronger grip on the reins, just like his grandpa taught him many years ago. Only that they were nonexistent. Astrem, that was the centaur's name—a tall creature of dark hair and skin. The memories came back to him. Cursed be his stupidity and noble intentions, Daniel had sacrificed himself to allow those two kids to escape—not only for Hogwarts' sake, but because it had felt right.

They were supposed to be under his care, just as he promised them. Moreover, he had felt so powerful! There, surrounded by magical creatures that could do nothing but die in vain as they tried to swarm him, with the purest form of magic he had ever experienced flowing through every inch of his body, Daniel had felt invincible.

Unfortunately, logic always prevailed.

He opened his eyes to look down, to his two last fingers from his left hand—they looked black and swollen, with two bleeding, little craters that still erupted dark blood at a very slow pace. If he recalled correctly, at some point of the fight he had been bitten by a large acromantula. The bastard had been burnt to a crisp, of course, but his thin and knife-like teeth had already speared the boy's flesh by the time Daniel ended it. Acromantula poison was a serious thing, but he, or better said, his magic, had somehow stopped the fast spread of what could have turned into a lethal wound. Or so he hoped.

His body rocked forward once again, that time, an arrow longer than his leg almost gouged his eye out. A bunch of centaurs rained arrows all over the spiders. The memories kept coming back—they felt weird and distant as if they did not belong to him, but deep inside him, Daniel recognised them all. After how hard he had lost control during his fight against the acromantulas, it was a wonder to be alive.

His whole body was in pain, but it was a relieving sensation—at that moment, he needed to feel as many sensations as he could. Daniel felt confused and dizzy, but second after second, his right arm recovered a bit of strength, enough to take a hold of the bow's strap that allowed him to survive atop of the creature.

Another centaur, a bit taller than the one who carried him, with long, blond hair cascading all over its horse body, galloped by their side. He noted the boy's gaze. "I see you are still holding up," the centaur said before looking ahead. "We need to do something about those poisoned fingers, Astrem. This boy's magic is slowing the spreading quite effectively, but it won't last forever."

My fingers? What the hell needs to be done? Daniel tried to move them, but they didn't respond to his order—in fact, he didn't even feel pain at all from them.

"We are not as resourceful as your kind is, boy," the centaur by the name of Astrem started, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. "Had we been closer to the castle, a better solution might have been found. However, as we do not have time for that, we shall act our way. Let's speed up, Firenze, for the stars will lead us in our journey."

Daniel could imagine the way centaurs dealt with poison and its spreading. A shiver went down his spine, but he regained composure as best as he could—if the question was whether he preferred to keep two fingers of his bad hand rather than his entire hand, arm, or even worse, his life, the answer was rather easy.

He tried to keep those thoughts out of his mind, and so, Daniel found the strength to keep the conversation alive. "Why did you save me?"

"The stars led Astrem to you," Firenze replied. They went through a part of the Forest with dense vegetation, but not nearly as much as they had found near the acromantulas' nest. He could even catch a glimpse of the first rays of sun that seeped through the trees. "This Forest is our home, one we share with plenty of races—some incredibly kind while others are as dangerous as those you faced tonight. We, centaurs, never meddle into those businesses which are external to us, but when the stars whisper into our ears… Thee shall not be ignored."

"Strange things are happening across the world," Astrem went on. "Bad omens are appearing everywhere—long forgotten dangers are awakening. The Monster of Slytherin is just another one, but not the gravest omen. Not nearly." He paused for a moment to look upwards, to the soon-to-be blue sky. "The stars are afraid of the future that was fated upon us. They speak to me, they instigate me to act. Little and practically insignificant actions that can't barely alter the lattice of events that waits ahead of us, but it is my duty. I'm the son they trusted in. I must give them my all."

"Astrem is blessed by the stars," Firenze added with a proud voice. "We call him Astrem Starblessed, for it is the only proper title he shall receive. Even if the Elders have yet to understand the tragic future that is bound to happen, some of us are not so blind. Starblessed is the one we chose to follow."

"You talk too much, Firenze," Astrem reprimanded him. No words were spoken after that.

A soft, morning wind ruffled his hair out of his forehead—his body felt cold, even though the fringe was practically sticking to his forehead due to a layer of hot sweat. Daniel licked his lips just to taste a strange mix between metal and shit, with a few specks of dirt in between.

Bit by bit, even if it felt disgusting, the boy started to grasp more sensations—the many scratches and wounds from every inch of his body, especially on the face; the familiar weight of his wand inside his forearm pocket; the way his legs and back ached in protest, as if telling him how stupid he had been that night… But most importantly, the three fingers of his bad hand felt alive once again; even if that emphasised the lack of sensibility in the last two digits, it was enough to put a reassuring thought in his mind.

Around them, the trees started to move away from the road—the longer they followed that man-made path, the less the Forbidden Forest seemed to extend its roots over them. Some fruit trees appeared in his visual field, adding colour to the picture, just as the birds' chirping got more noticeable. Daniel caught a glimpse of a few squirrels running around an old centaur, who fed them a few acorns as the half-horse sent a sour look in their direction.

"Just as some of us understand the gravity of the situation, others chose to stay devoted to our ancient traditions," Firenze let out a tired sigh once Daniel asked him about the old centaur's behaviour. "The Conqueror of the Stars, that's what they call Astrem, can you believe it? There is no gravest insult for one of our kind—the stars are not to be conquered, for that would mean Astrem feels above them and their wisdom."

"One day, they will understand," Astrem said with a sour voice as he came to a halt.

Around them, there was a huge clearing in which only a few trees made an act of presence—tall oaks with thick logs, of which long shadows protected plenty of centaurs from the morning sun. In the middle of the clearing, a little lake of cristaline water, smaller than the one near the castle, freshened the whole place. There even were little centaurs, with the size of ponies, playing around it without paying the human and his two saviours any attention at all.

On the contrary, the other habitants of the colony had yet to lift their eyes from their figures. They don't look like a friendly bunch, Daniel grunted in his mind. He almost pulled his wand out of his robes, with the intention to send a message, but he quickly discarded the idea. He was hurt and surrounded by many centaurs; there was nothing the wizard could do.

His fate had been sealed the moment he failed to fight the acromantulas by himself. Hell, he would be dead if it wasn't because of Astrem's and Firenze's intervention! They had already saved his life once, why couldn't he trust them to do it a second time?

Those sombre thoughts must have been shown by his face since the blond centaur felt the need to ease his worry. "It does not matter whether they agree with Astrem or not," Firenze said. "They will never hurt an innocent boy like you. Our tribe very rarely has any contact with your kind, but even the Elders greatly respect Albus Dumbledore and the role he's played in the events of the past."

"Some friends of ours rescued a girl as we did with you," Astrem let the boy know. Daniel couldn't help but to let out a relieved sigh—at least, one of those two kids was safe. "She broke her two legs, but that is all. I'll take you to her." The centaur interrupted his gait after a few steps. "Can you walk on your own? Most of our kind does not see with good eyes the sight of a centaur carrying a human."

Daniel didn't even answer, he just jumped down from the hint of the tall centaur. "Shit," he cursed as his legs almost gave up. He regained balance in no time at all—oh, it sure felt good to walk again! "Come on, I'm good to go," he let the centaurs know.

It was a short walk, but it certainly didn't lack things to observe and be fascinated with. Near the giant oaks there were some wooden houses, of only one floor and roofs of green grass, but tall and large enough to foster many people. As Daniel set his eyes on one, a little centaur came out from the house through a large and oval hole that acted as a door—also, there were two windows with the same form, a bunch of vines acting like some sort of curtains. Soon enough, the smell of food filled his nostrils—was it rabbit? His stomach loudly roared in protest as they went past a big campfire in which a dozen steamy cauldrons filled the place with a nice scent.

"You can eat later," Astrem suddenly said, almost startling him. "First, we need to take care of your fingers so the poison does not spread through the arm. Then, as soon as the girl and you are ready to go, we will escort you back to the castle. Humans shall receive our help as any other creature, but, sadly, our worlds do not belong together."

He had been trying to not think about his wound, but it seemed to be an unavoidable thing. "Centaurs are quite skilled in Healing Magic, right?" Daniel asked.

"Indeed, we are," Firenze replied with a nod of his head. "However, that wound is past our capacities—we found you too late. At this moment, after how long the poison has been in your circulation, although your magic was able to contain it, even a very capable human would have trouble treating you."

A loud whistle from Astrem made everyone look at them. The hell? Suddenly, a burly centaur of ebony skin trotted towards them. If Firenze and Astrem could be considered as attractive creatures—their human side, of course—the one who came at them was far from that. It also had long hair, of a black as dark as coal, and its face was full of scars; some little, like the one over his left eye, right under the bushy eyebrows, while others went from one side to the other.

Its big nose huffed in annoyance as the centaur unsheathed a long, white machete. Woah! Daniel quickly took a few steps back, just to crash into Firenze, who softly grabbed his shoulders. "There is no other way, boy," the creature said as he gave his shoulders a squeeze.

Another centaur appeared to drop a thick log near them, just to trot away seconds after that. "Come on, boy. I don't have all day!" The burly centaur said with an acute voice—too acute, actually. Daniel sent her a strange look.

"Raaial is our tribe's best hunter, you can trust her," Astrem said as he meet the boy's eyes. Again, Daniel hesitated. "It is your body, and so, it is up to you and only you to decide. However, regardless of your decision, the venom will spread unless the fingers are severed."

"Take this and come here, runt," Raaial grunted at him. Daniel could barely react in time to catch a thin and long piece of wood covered by some bright, green leafs. "Oh, trust me, you want to bite that," the female centaur laughed. Her good humour changed in a matter of seconds when Daniel stood rooted in his spot. "Oh, come on, I'm not gonna have a runt dying on my watch, even if he is the most stupid human I've ever seen. Listen to me, we can proceed in two ways. The good way, in which you get closer to me and I cut your fingers in one swing, or the bad way, in which I bite those dead bones out of your hand; my teeth are sharp, runt, but it won't be pretty."

Daniel was seconds away from unsheathing his wand and cursing them all. Don't think about it. Just don't think about it. He took the leafed piece of wood in his mouth, with enough force to snap it in a half, then he kneeled in front of the log as he placed his hand over it.

Just when Raaial was about to swing her blade down, the boy took the hand away. "Wait a moment," Daniel said after taking the piece of wood out of his mouth. "This way my fingers are too close to each other, I-"

"Runt, if I say I can cut them in one clean swing, that's because I can," Raaial interrupted him with a grunt. "Now, you better let me do what I'm good at, or else, by a silly craving from the stars, I might cut one more finger than I should."

Oh, one day I'll have a stew of centaur, and I'm gonna damn enjoy it! Daniel just closed his eyes and waited for the pain to strike. Only that it never appeared. After thirty seconds, the boy opened his eyes. There, surrounded by a trail of black and red blood, his two necrosed fingers lay over the log. Then he realised his hand lacked two digits and everything came at the same time.

Daniel tilted his head to the side to puke, even if his stomach was practically empty. Still nauseated, the boy felt how someone wrapped a warm bandage over his little stumps—oh, he sure felt that one.

"The worst is already over, boy," the calm voice of Firenze reached his ears. Daniel felt as dizzy as he had ever been, but he fought to regain his composure. "This is a bandage imbued with the best herbs one can find at the Forest. It will benefit the cicatrization and its sensibility. However, as good as it is, you will do good in looking for further advice and attention as soon as you go back to your people."

The words that started as far whistle now sounded way more clear. Daniel just nodded his head as he took a long gulp of air. His entire hand was covered in a solid bandage of white leaves; the part that covered his stumps was starting to get a bit soaked in blood, but it was of a red colour, not a single trace of that black substance For someone who has just lost two fingers, I feel much better than I expected.

Daniel raised up to his feet, the world around him still spiralling. Much to his surprise, that butcher of Raaial was nowhere to be seen—truly loyal to her word, she didn't want to spend more time than the little she had needed. "Okay, I think I'm good to go," the boy said. "More or less…"

The colourful village now looked way paler to his eyes. Daniel took a seat on the ground and observed how the little centaurs played near the lake as he waited for the dizziness to go away. Firenze stood by his side. "Say, boy, do you believe in fate and destiny?" The centaur suddenly asked.

"To be honest, I don't know," Daniel replied. He wasn't expecting for the creature to start such a serious conversation—especially, knowing how important the topic was for his kind—but if that talk allowed him to distract his mind from the stinging pain of his fingers, welcome be it. "Some days, I certainly do," he went on. "Others…, not so much. Back in my second year of school, when we were given a list of elective subjects, I chose Divination. I was really curious about it, but as the days passed, I just felt disappointed, you know? There was nothing of interest there. Just stupind conjectures of some old woman that might or might not took place by a stroke of luck."

"It is really a shame that you, humans, were not blessed by the stars and their wisdom as our kind was," Firenze said with a sad voice. "But then I ask myself how can it not be that way. Astrem Starblessed was born special, I harbour no doubts about it, but the other centaurs… How can I ask a human to share our faith in the stars and the future when not even all of us can do it? The Elders, Bane and Roman… None of them can see the dark future that looms over us. A future in which all the magical races shall come together in order to survive the upcoming days."

Daniel raised his head to look at the centaur; there were two solitary tears falling down from his eyes. He's mental, I swear. Yet he couldn't keep his gaze up. Those words had sent a cold shiver down his spine—by any means did he believe them, how could he? It was true the opening of the Chamber was a dark event, one Daniel would have not believed could happen a mere year ago. However, for the better and the worse, Hogwarts was special; strange things could happen at the old castle, let it be good or bad.

Did all the races need to act together to overcome those hypothetical dark days? They might as well surrender on that very same moment, then. If Daniel had learnt something during his brief life as a wizard, it was that everyone hated those who were different from them. Hell, even between people of the same country, the amount of pure blood a person was born with, as they liked to say, was a strong enough reason to hate your fellow neighbour.

Ravings of a crazy centaur, the boy sentenced. Delirium, that was what those words meant.

The boy got up from the ground with a tired grunt. "I'm good to go," Daniel announced. In truth, he wasn't, but he wanted to get out of the Forbidden Forest as fast as possible—too many things had happened that night, and he didn't even know if all their efforts had been in vain or not.

"I'm glad to hear that," Firenze said as his eyes looked at Daniel's back. The boy turned around to see whatever had caught the centaur's attention. There, from one of those large and natural houses, Astrem calmly trotted towards them with a familiar figure mounted atop of him.

Tracey Davis couldn't suppress a gutural as soon as their eyes met. "Daniel!" The girl exclaimed. She looked ready to jump down from the centaur to greet him, but there was a slight problem: her legs were fully wrapped with the same leathery bandages Daniel's hand was, moreover, they had been put into cast, made of two long and firm oak branches that went from her ankles to slightly above the knees. "They told me about you! But I couldn't… Well, I didn't believe them! How could I? I thought we abandoned you to your death!" She looked about to cry.

"Well, as you can see, I'm not dead yet," Daniel tried to joke, yet it came out as a quite humourless attempt. Although he didn't look at his fingers, his mind had a very clear image of how his hand looked at that moment; of how it would look for the rest of his life. "Though I would be if it wasn't because of these kind centaurs." Even if they were a bunch of crazy and weird creatures, they had earned his respect.

"We just followed the stars' will," Astrem declared before staring at the two humans for a few seconds. "In one way or another, you two have a role to play in the future. That is the reason why they guide me to you." He nodded at his own words before exchanging a look with Firenze. "Please, I need you to deal with the Elders while I take these children back to the castle."

"Of course," Firenze replied. He turned his head down to stare at them. "It was a pleasure to meet you two. I know our paths will cross again in the future. Whether it would be under good or bad conditions is something the stars have yet to decide, but I know the day will come." He then trotted away, into the colony.

Astrem placed a hand over Daniel's shoulder. "Hop onto my back," the centaur told him. "It will be far quicker if I carry you out of the Forest."

"Didn't you say that carrying humans over your back was something your people would see with bad eyes?" Daniel raised a brow at him.

"Old traditions are bound to be shaped anew in difficult times," Astrem recited with the hint of a smile. "I do not know what will happen in the near future, but who knows? Maybe, the events that took place tonight will be considered in the future days as those which changed the relationship between humans and centaurs."

I doubt it, Daniel rolled his eyes at those words. Despite that, he jumped onto Astrem's back, right behind Davis.

The moment they made it out of the colony, the earth trembled. The trees' crowns shook as a rain of leaves fell over their shoulders. Astrem stumbled a bit, but he managed to stay on his four feet. "What was that?" Davis gasped as soon as it stopped. "An earthquake?"

"Probably," Daniel replied, not too sure about his own words.

"That was another event that took place on this important day," Astrem cut in. The centaur increased the speed of his gait. "The world we know and love will soon change…"

With those enigmatic words engraved in his mind, the boy let out a tired huff as they moved through the Forbidden Forest. Well, I hope it bloody changes once I'm finished with my studies. I don't really fancy dying in the foreseeable future, to be honest…


Sirius Black POV

At the British Ministry of Magic…

Sirius was about to commit murder, and he was gonna bloody enjoy it!

Those bastards had told him to wait! As if that hadn't been all they've said for the last twelve hours! "Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, John Dawlish," he recited, again and again, in a faint whisper. "What a bunch of stupid fuckers, I swear."

Sirius headbutted the wall of the waiting room, made of cold, black bricks. There was another person there, but the young wizard didn't think Arthur Weasley could pay much attention to his angered acts. In fact, the red-haired man had done nothing but wait for answers in silence, obedient as a puppy. Sirius sent him a quick look for the twelfth time—he looked as miserable as he did back at the beginning of the night.

How could he not feel that way? Arthur had received the information of the attack on his son the same way Sirius did: by an urgent and special edition from The Prophet. Not a single word had come from Dumbledore; not a bloody word! No one knew what the hell was happening at Hogwarts, but the entire country had scream blue murder after the information became of public knowledge.

Harry Potter—his godson—had been attacked by the Heir of Slytherin and, presumably, turned into stone! Oh, if Sirius could ever put his hands on that bastard, the Heir would regret the moment he decided to attack the boy! To attack the only family Sirius had! With a tired grunt, he dropped onto the comfy, leather couch.

It had been a rough night. At first, the rage and the adrenaline had been enough to fuel his body, but as the hours passed and the situation remained the same, Sirius started to feel more and more hopeless. Hell, even the rays of sun had come before any piece of information!

A foot tapping, rhythmically, against the white, diamond-shaped slabs that formed the floor of the waiting room pulled Sirius out of his thoughts. Oh, true, there was a third person here. Gareth Marshall, the Auror who custodied the entrance to the Minister's office was also growing impatient. Almost a head taller than Sirius and way more broad of shoulders, Marshall had kept a strict watch for the entire night.

The man had cold, blue eyes that softened the moment they fell over Arthur's figure. From what Sirius recalled, he had no memories from Marshall taking part in the War, still, only Merlin knew what a man of his profession could have seen—the fact his eyes could soften in this situation, was proof enough that the Auror had yet to become a cold bastard.

Sirius joined him, their feet tapping against the floor in unison. If he could, the young wizard would go outside to take a breath of fresh air, but, unfortunately, the Auror also had orders to deny them the exit. Cornelius Fudge, you really are the most stipid cunt I've ever met! The country's dear Minister had gotten so nervous when both Sirius and Arthur almost broke into his office that, after swearing to them a hundred promises, he had begged them to wait in his personal waiting room.

Sirius knew his approach to the situation might not have been…, the most adequate one, to say something. Yet it had been the most rational. And this time no one could say he hadn't tried! Hell, thanks to Remus' intervention, for the first time in his life, he had given a vote of confidence to the authorities. However, after one entire day without any updates about Harry or the school's situation, he had finally decided to take matters into his own hands—especially, after the news of Greengrass and other pureblood families being granted their wishes to take their children out of Hogwarts.

And there he found himself, still as blind as he was when the moon had yet to bright the night!

"It won't matter how hard you try to stare through the door," the Auror's voice reached his ears. "The situation will not change."

"Whatever you say, man," Sirius replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Come on, Black, try not to make my job harder," Marshall let out an exasperated sigh. "This one is on you, and you know it. Next time, try to think twice before shouting all those things at the Minister and his cabinet." His eyes fell onto Arthur for a moment. "I'm sure the Minister will move heaven and earth to solve this fuckery. Eh, don't give me that look."

"I'm not giving you any weird look, Marshall," Sirius huffed. "This is how I look at others when I haven't slept for more than one day. Besides, I never said you were wrong. In fact, I agree with you. Our dear Cornelius will move heaven and earth to solve this fuckery, indeed—now, I won't be the one to question his motivations, but, between you and me, I don't think they are as noble as the man preaches them to be."

This time, the Auror didn't reply. Ha, you can't even defend your boss, eh? Who could defend such a pathetic man—one who was ready to imprison two worried men for an entire night so they couldn't bad mouth his horrible gestion during his worst moment as the Minister for Magic?

Hour after hour, all remained the same. Sirius started to lose his personal battle against sleep, and just like always, the dreams visited him.

He was sitting on his favourite couch, of black leather and very comfortable, with his feet up on the large, wooden table of the living room as a hot mug of coffee steamed in his hand. Grimmauld Place, his childhood home, looked different. For starters, there were far more elves' heads decorating the walls than he remembered. However, what really startled him was the new acquisitions of his mother's collections. There were human heads. He couldn't recognise them, even if some looked familiar, but they all looked at him with open eyes and strangrend, silent screams in their mouths.

Sirius tried to stand up, but his body didn't react. Why can't I move? Why doesn't my voice come out? The door of living was suddenly opened. From it came his mother, whose first action was to frown upon his son. Walburga Black looked as he remembered. With that arrogant look of hers and those eyes which gleamed with a hint of madness, the matriarch of the Great House of Black took a seat in front of Sirius, at the other end of the table.

Then, one after the other, the rest made an act of presence. First came his father, lord Orion Black, stepping into the room with a calm stride and cane to support his weight. He was followed by Sirius' little brother, Regulus, whose face looked blurred; barely recognisable. James and Lily, with a baby Harry firmly crutched in his mother's arms, came next. Marlene, the Prewett twins, Alice and Frank Longbottom were also there.

And the only thing Sirius could do was to stare at them.

They acted as if he wasn't there, as if he didn't belong in that place. Sirius finally found his voice. "Hey, what are you doing?" Around him, everyone chatted as many dishes appeared on the table—colourful salads, steaming potatoes, roasted beef. All echoed by a choir of laughter. "The hell is happening here!?" Sirius exclaimed, his fist hitting the table with force.

"You don't belong here, Sirius," the voice of James almost made him jump out of the seat. His brother in all but blood looked at him with a bright smile and funny eyes, just as he did during every one of their pranks at Hogwarts. By his side, Lily nodded her head to back her husband's words. "Can't you see it, Sirius?" She asked. "You don't belong here yet, so you better man up and go back to your usual self. The one we all loved. "

"I expected more from my first son," Walburga sneered at him as she shook her head in resignation. "You never were the sharpest tool in the shed, weren't you?"

"You shall bring the glory back to the Great House of Black, my son," Orion stated with a calm voice. His finger pointed at Sirius in an accusatory gesture. "That is the only reason why you were born. Please, don't let us down more than what you've already done. You still have plenty of time to fix all your mistakes, Sirius; to carry out your duty towards your House."

"Ignore them, Sirius," Marlene smiled at him. Oh, how much he had missed that bright smile that used to solve all his problems in the past! Just as much as he missed the rest of her—those bright, green eyes that always gleamed with kindness when those around her needed it the most ; her curly, brown hair; that fierce character of hers that both conquered and intimidated him… "Just live your best life! You must do it for us, those who can't!"

"Hey, you better take care of Molly and her children," Gideon Prewett threatened as he raised his fist in the air. "I heard one of her sons saved your ass, eh?" Fabian smirked at Sirius. "I think it is about time for you to grow up, bastard. We ain't there to save you anymore!" The twins roared in laughter and the memories of past times came to Sirius' mind—war times, some of the worst days he had ever lived, yet never ever had he felt so alive as he did back then.

"Don't pay attention to these two fools," Alice Longbottom kindly smiled at him. "They are frustrated because they've both been rejected by a woman for the fourth time this month." The twins' laughter turned into exasperated huffs. Frank Longbottom raised his cup in the air for a toast that brought back their smiles. "Don't ever forget the joy of these moments, Sirius," the man laughed. "What is life if not this?"

"I also felt lost, you know?" Suddenly, the voice of Regulus silenced the rest. Sirius' eyes fell onto his brother's face, still blurred. Everyone else disappeared; only the two brothers were left. "I wanted to be like you, but, at the same time, I wanted to make mum and dad proud. Unfortunately, they never paid any attention to me," Regulus sighed in defeat. "Sirius, you must do as I say; Sirius, you need to behave better in the presence of other noble families… Everything was about you and only you."

Sirius tried to tell him to shut up, that he didn't care about the words of a Death Eater—to him, it didn't matter if they shared blood. No words came out of his mouth.

"I did envy you," Regulus gave the hint of a sad smile. "At first, because you received all the attention from our family. But then, as the years passed, I started to feel jealous because of another thing—no matter how bad the day looked to be, no matter who told you what you couldn't or could do, you always knew what it was that you wanted." The room started to blur as his words came much quieter. A shadow loomed behind Regulus. "Please, I know we ended up hating each other, but do me a favour and go on with your life—at least, do it to spite me."

The figure became recognizable as the Dementor engulfed Regulus under his tunic of shadows. Sirius screamed at the top of his lungs, but he could do nothing to stop the hellish creature that got closer and closer to him with each second. When the Dementor grabbed his head with hands as cold as ice itself, its dry and teethless mouth already opened to grant him the Kiss, a loud bang echoed around.

Sirius woke up with a jump the moment a door was opened with force. Standing on his feet, the young wizard unsheathed his wand to point it at the sudden noise—there wasn't any dementor preying upon him. Instead, what looked back at him with surprised eyes, of an emerald green colour, was the face of a beatiful, young woman, with dark-blonde hair falling all over her blue robes. An Auror?

"Black, lower your wand, immediately," Gareth Marshall ordered him, even though he had also unsheathed his. He turned to look at the blond girl. "Sweeney? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be at Hogwarts!"

"Hello, Sir!" The female Auror greeted back in a firm tone. Her breath came out raggedly, and Sirius noted there was sweat coating her forehead. "I was sent here by the man in charge of Hogwarts' operations, Hector Fawley himself, Sir!"

"Jessie, do me a favour and take a moment to relax yourself," Marshall said as he placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. "I'm not your instructor anymore, you don't have to refer to me with such respect."

Arthur rose up from his seat with a hopeful look on his face. "Is there any news from Hogwarts?" He asked in a faint voice.

She ignored them both. "I must talk with the Minister," Sweeney stated. "Sir, do you know where Mr Fudge is?"

Wait a moment, isn't he in his office? Sirius voiced out his question, even though it came as more of an accusation towards Marshall. "I thought he was in his office, Black," the tall Auror grunted back at him. "Clearly, I wasn't told everything."

Arthur got closer to the Aurors, enough to grab the girl's arm. Faster than Sirius thought she could react, Sweeney's wand appeared in her hand, yet she quickly recalled as soon as her eyes caught a glimpse of the man's defeated face. "Please, my son was attacked two days ago and we know nothing about his condition," Arthur almost begged. "His name is Ronald Weasley, can you tell me anything? Please."

Sweeney looked both doubtful and guilty to the same extent, as it clearly showed in the way she bit her lip. She sent a quick look to Marshall, who softly nodded his head. Then she let out a long sigh. "Your son is as well as he can be," the girl announced. "When the Heir of Slytherin attacked him and Harry Potter, the two of them were found at some abandones classroom. Just like everyone else, they were petrified." She softened her voice. "As soon as the mandrakes are ready, Ronald will be ready to go back home."

For the first time since he came to the Ministry, a bit of colour warmed his face. Arthur took his head between his hands and exhaled a long sigh. "Thank you," he said after a few seconds of silence. "I'm really thankful. Really."

Sirius suppressed the relieved laugh that almost came out of his mouth. He took a seat on his couch once again; for the first time in many hours, he felt good. That ever present weight over his shoulder had disappeared. Harry was out of danger—petrified, true, but out of danger.

"I'm just doing my job," Sweeney replied with embarrassment, her cheeks going red as a cherry. The poor girl had to excuse herself to get freed from Arthur's gratitude.

The moment the door closed behind her, the one that led out of the Minister's waiting room, Sirius took the word. "What a breath of fresh air to see someone here doing their damn job!" The young wizard exclaimed. Gareth Marshall sent him a sour look. Shit, I talked too much once again. "I wasn't talking about you, of course," Sirius went on. "I was referring to other people. I'm sure you know who I mean."

"I do," the Auror replied with a tired sigh. At that moment, Arthur got out of the room, saying that he needed to tell his wife the good news. The two men fell into a comfortable silence. "I was there the day he escaped, you know?" Marshall broke it. "Peter Pettigew, I mean."

A trace of rage made an act of presence in Sirius' face. "What about it?" He asked.

"I just thought you ought to know it," Marshall replied as his lips thinned. "Up to this day, I still regret it with every ounce of my soul."

"How did it happen?" Sirius swore to Remus long ago that he would try to forget all that had to do with his time at Azkaban. But there, with some precious information at his fingers' reach, it was a futile attempt to resist the temptation.

Gareth Marshall thought about the answer for a few seconds. "We still don't know how it truly happened," the Auror replied. He sounded honest, Sirius noted. "I was tasked to escort him from Azkaban to the Wizengamot—what could go wrong? That is what I asked myself that day. It was impossible for anything, and I mean anything, to happen. Azkaban is one of the safest places on the entire planet, and from there, we would take a direct trip by floo to my office. It was the safest route we could ever have taken!"

"Yet when Pettigrew was minutes away from facing justice, one of three persons in that room knocked us out," Marshall went on. He hadn't mentioned the word betrayal, and neither did he sound resentful towards that person—Sirius knew the man was omitting important details, but he remained silent. "It wasn't that person's fault, of course. We later came to know that, some individual of unknown identity, had put that guard under the Imperius months before Pettigrew's retrieval was ordered. Hell, for all we know, it probably was a stroke of luck! But, regardless of that, how much of a sick bastard do you need to be to do such a thing to a young recruit?"

His tongue had spilled more information than he would have wanted, and they both knew it. Marshall closed his mouth with force, to a point in which Sirius could almost hear his teeth grinding. So they are as lost as we are, eh? "I also had that information," Sirius admitted. The Auror raised an inquiring brow. "Albus Dumbledore told me, but don't worry. His wasn't such a detailed explanation."

For a few minutes, no one uttered a word. "I tried to hunt him down," Gareth Marshall confessed, suddenly. "For months, putting my hands around those bastards' necks was all I could think about. In the case of Pettigrew, for having elude justice for so many years, and, in regard to that other fucker, because of how much damage he had caused to a good person. I tried and tried, but I couldn't find a bloody trace about them. Madam Bones and Rufus trusted me to lead the hunting operation, yet I failed quite miserably." The Auror sent Sirius a fierce look. "I know how much damage that traitorous bastard caused you, Black, but I promise you I will find him. And when that happens, you'll be the first to know. That's a promise."

That's if I don't kill Peter before you can find him, Sirius thought, bitterly. Thinking about his former brother and fellow Marauder brought him memories of his last dream, the one he had less than half an hour ago. What the hell was that dream? He had become used to dreaming since he was freed from Azkaban—nightmares, most of the nights. But never had he experienced such a vivid dream. Much less, one in which his family, the one he hated so much, sat alongside those persons he came to love.

You don't belong here, they had told him. Hell, even his parents and brother—whose face he had forgotten long ago, back in Azkaban, when all Sirius could remember about him was the moment in which he proudly proclaimed himself as a Death Eater—had blabbered about the reasons why he must live. Bloody bastards! Even after death they could still rile him up!

Sirius let out an annoyed snort as he got up. With a nod of his head, he bid farewell to the tall Auror before getting out of the waiting room. That part of the Ministry was deserted, something he appreciated—the last thing he wanted to withstand at that moment was people staring at him with open eyes and not-so-subtle looks; he wasn't a bloody exotic creature!

No, he was Sirius Black, a man who had lost ten years of his life, jailed at one of the worst places on the entire planet. All he wanted to do was to kill someone whom Sirius once considered a brother; that was his one and only motivation. 'You don't belong here,' those damned words echoed in his mind. "Where the fuck do I belong, then," Sirius grunted in a quiet whisper.

He hopped onto the elevator which would take to the main level of the Ministry. There were a few witches there; probably, from what their uniform told him, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. One of them, the youngest woman, looked at him with open eyes. She quickly set her gaze on the floor as Sirius raised a brow at her. They still treat me like a bloody psycho!

As the magical device went up, all Sirius could think about was one face: Peter's. He no longer cared about what Gerard or Remus could think of him and his bloodlust—they were very welcome to tag along and join the hunt. If not, he would just resume it by himself.

After all, Sirius still had a bit more than a month before Harry returned home from Hogwarts.