"Mad-Eye, can you imagine if he were our teacher when we were Harry's age?"
"It would have been a thing of wonder…Wonder what Moody will think of my teaching? Part of me expects a Howler back giving me a right bollocking for taking it too easy on them."
"The Moody I remember would probably remove points for not knowing counter-curses to curses you don't even learn until NEWTs. Do you think they'll wait for you to learn, son?" Sirius replied, amused at his own impression of Moody.
They were sat across from each other in a small inn, in an Albanian city by the northern border that Sirius could not correctly pronounce the name of for the life of him, to the amusement of the locals. He knew however where on the map they should be, as Remus would faithfully mark with a small dot each village, town and city that they visited, asking anyone they would pass by about Bertha's whereabouts and disappearance. They found themselves in a touristic spot by the Accursed Mountains, a small village that was visited by a variety of wizards and Muggles alike during summer, due to its scenery as well as certain legends related to certain mediaeval balkan creatures and famous wizards.
Alongside the map of Albania that Dumbledore left at Magdalena's place, before leaving, Sirius had also cut out pictures from the Daily Prophet of Bertha, casting a spell of Immobility on some, in order to show them to Muggles as well as wizards.
"Where do we go on then, from here, eh, Barry?" Remus asked again, chuckling to himself as he looked at the dark, short-haired man with deep crevices in his forehead that Sirius was masquerading as.
The body was of a drunk English bloke they Obliviated and took some hair from. An easy target that had roughly the same height and build as Sirius, and which allowed him to easily still wear his own clothes. Sirius had looked in the lad's wallet, and saw that his name was Bartholomew, and decided to borrow that as well, alongside his likeness, however he felt that Bartholomew was a bit of a handful to say… and thus, Barry, who wore clothes just a tad too tight, and was visiting Albania to look for either his sister or his cousin, was born.
"We'll wait here for a couple of days. It's our last lead. If this fails.. Perhaps we will continue going south." Sirius stated, looking behind his shoulders once again, waiting for their lead to appear in the inn.
They have had no leads for a while, simply travelling from north to south, sweeping every small place that looked picturesque enough that the Bertha they remembered would have enjoyed exploring. And while they have met British wizards on their way, none of them have seen any sign of her, any strange things occurring, any other disappearances, or anything to make the happy holiday makers think something was amiss on their trip. His Animagus form was not much help either, not here, as he could not understand a lick of Albanian, and would simply end up staring for hours at the locals deep in conversations about who-knows-what. Their lead came from Albanian wizards that spoke English, who, while not recognising Bertha, kept mentioning a certain witch by the name of 'Ablai', saying that she can help.
"If there's anyone that can help you-"
"Well, if there's anyone that knows-"
"If you want to find your friend fast, there's one person that can help you here-"
That was what they kept hearing. They found out even more about Ablai. She lived with her granddaughter, was of an advanced age, and could barely see in front of her. Much to their luck, it appeared that her mind was as clear as in her youth, and she would still offer services for a good price.
Soon enough, after countless discussions revolved around how much of a shame it is Bertha got lost in such a beautiful country, and how devoid of flavour British food is, and that yes, the weather is as dreadful as everyone makes it sound, and no we're not just saying this, they managed to find a young wizard who, between bouts of laughter, told them he knew Ablai's granddaughter, and could write to her to meet them at the inn they were staying at.
This gave them a couple of days of doing nothing, nothing but sit around, advance their knowledge of Albanian with the innkeeper, and ask every person that would come in about Bertha. Yet no news, apart from how the farmers were affected by a rat epidemic once again.
"Should we…" Sirius started, after hearing the story for about the third time, yet Remus shut him down quickly with a comment on just how low the odds of one of those rats being Peter were. "Maybe we should ask them about Peter."
"We'll have to be careful here, Barry, if you want to double up and start smelling after Peter too. With British wizards, and if the Ministry is looking for Bertha…"
"Then they would be looking for her. "
"And why would I be looking for her, then?" Remus asked, exasperated.
Sirius looked him up and down as he continued eating, before shrugging.
"You've quit your job, you need a hobby."
"I'm the one who needs a hobby?"
"The Ministry won't be looking for her that much, according to Dumbledore." Sirius explained again, leaning in as he continued. "They have their hands full with the Tournament, and the World Cup."
"I'm still quite amazed he told you all of that."
Sirius shrugged, crossing his arms as he thought about it. He wondered why Dumbledore had trusted him with all of this information, whether it was a test, or whether it was out of pity. A pity from knowing he had wasted his youth, almost a third of his life, perhaps? Perhaps he wanted to earn his trust again, after they all had let him rot there.
What could Sirius Black even do now, with the information of who Voldemort was? What could Sirius Black do with the information of the Triwizard Tournament happening? Perhaps Dumbledore had plans for him - for the same reason he told Magdalena of Durmstrang… perhaps he was planning something for him as well, and soon enough, he would be told to meet him in private as well, and perhaps in one of those conversations, the idea of Harry living with him could be floated again.
And he would do everything in his power to ensure Harry was safe, and risk his own life to put an end to all of this. After what had happened to Harry in his first two years at Hogwarts, with Snape still kicking around near his godson, with Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy sending cursed diaries… Dumbledore was too kind of a man, too forgiving for his own good - perhaps it would be indeed, quite good that Mad-Eye would spend some time at Hogwarts.
"Are you alright? S-Barry, mate. Hey. Did you hear me?" Remus knocked loudly on the table between them, and a shiver overcame Sirius as he clasped his hands together in his lap, not aware as to whether he was asked a question.
"Sorry, mate, say that again now…"
Sirius had developed a habit of losing himself in his own thoughts. After darkness would fall, and with it so would Remus into slumber, Sirius would find himself outside on many of these nights, staring at the stars, contemplating. He was ensnared by a bout of melancholy he could not find the source of, with the birdsongs and bustling sounds of parties and celebrations from nearby inns keeping him company.
He could not find its cure either, as he craved the freedom, the fresh air, and the knowledge, at the back of his head, that he could lose himself as well. At times, he also asked about Sirius Black, out of curiosity, and the Albanian wizards, young and old, had no idea who or what he was talking about, scratching at the back of their heads and asking them if he also went missing, and God bless his soul, and may they find the both of them.
On some of those nights, Remus would find and join him, and he would tell him how those melodies reminded him of the weeks he spent with Magdalena. He would tell Remus about how she would treat him, her unending odd hospitality and connections, however left many details for himself. He left the solitude and desolation emerging from their conversations, surrounded by smoke or distant melodies, for himself to ruminate on, until they would slowly get hazier and hazier, lost in the deepening fog of his memory.
"I said, I think that's her. Large cheekbones, short blonde hair."
Sirius turned once again, and watched a young witch enter the inn, clicking her nails against the door as she looked around. She looked only a few years older than Harry, with the same short, boyish haircut and the same walking gait of a teenager who is just now getting used to handling their recent growth spurt. He got up from the chair, and Remus followed suit, the young girl approaching them as well.
The young witch, Daniela, was old Ablai's son's daughter, as they soon found out as she led them outside of the inn. They introduced themselves as well, and she wasted no time in asking for payment, counting their coins carefully before putting them in a pouch.
They Apparated on the porch of a small house, its windows covered by white curtains. Sirius was unsure that anyone lived there, before remembering that the witch couldn't see anyway - of course she would not need light.
"She's a bit… hm, how to say this nice, old." the young witch grumbled, turning to face them. She apologised for her grandmother, before taking out her wand and murmuring a lazy Alohomora before opening it. She greeted loudly as she entered the house, and motioned for the both of them to enter. "Come, come in!" Still looking at each other, both Sirius and Remus held their wands close, not knowing what to expect.
Lounging against the chair was an old woman, short and as round as an apple, smoking from an enormous wooden pipe between her lips, enveloping her in misty blue clouds. Ablai turned towards them, her eyes barely visible from the wrinkles surrounding her face, and motioned for them to come closer with the same gesture her granddaughter had used.
"Does your grandma speak English, then?" Lupin asked, and the young witch raised her shoulders, asking the old witch something to which she responded with a grumble, getting up from her chair with difficulty, before hobbling over to another room. Daniela asked them to sit down, and followed her grandmother. They heard a short conversation, and the clinking of coins, before the young witch returned with two ceramic cups, putting them on a table in front of them.
Sirius raised a hand to take one of the cups, before Ablai stopped him with a wide motion of her hand, speaking to her granddaughter in a throaty voice that sounded more like the croak of a frog than a human. Daniela let them know Ablai was asking who was the one looking for the missing person, and Sirius pointed to himself, to which the old witch pointed at the other cup.
"What's that for?" he asked, looking into the milky white eyes of Ablai, who he was sure understood what was asked, as she turned towards her granddaughter and nodded. With many pauses to think of the most accurate English words, the young witch went over the potion Ablai would prepare, and the ritual that would follow, involving one of Bertha's pictures and a candle, to 'guide' him. The tea would 'open' his mind, as the process could take hours otherwise.
"So, it's like Divination." Remus concluded, and the younger witch thought about it for a moment, before nodding enthusiastically. He turned to Sirius, whispering for only him to hear. "Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't seem..."
Sirius knew what he was hinting at. It didn't seem safe, for his own sake - however, he knew he could count on Remus in case anything would go wrong. And in regards to the Divination part - no matter how much from his time with Magdalena he forgot, his hallucinations of the baby, of its features changing, of Harry, of Dumbledore's office and the fallen figure were as clear as day. And surely, some of those had to mean something, Divination be damned. He drank the tea in one gulp, and gave the young witch the cup back.
"How are you feeling?" Remus asked him as the two witches prepared the potion, yet Sirius felt no different, shrugging as he watched intently the old witch guide herself by smell and touch, dipping her fingers in various powders to test how fine they were, before instructing her granddaughter on the amounts to pour, the motions of the wand, and how many times to stir.
When it was finished, the potion was clear, looking just like boiling water and smelling slightly of lavender. The elderly witch waved her wand for a chipped bowl to appear and fill itself half-way with the potion, levitating and placing itself on a table in front of them. To Sirius's own surprise, Ablai instructed Daniela to leave, much to her chagrin - which they all felt as she loudly slammed the door behind her.
Without Daniela, however, the language barrier was obvious, especially as Ablai closed the blinds even more, with another move of her wand. She placed her enormous, raspy hand on Sirius's cheek, to instruct him to sit closer to the bowl and placed his head above it, tilting it until he faced the potion and the vapours inundated his nose and eyes. He felt a light piece of cloth placed over his head, and he waited quietly, unsure what to do.
"Uh, yeah, yes. This is the missing person we're looking for." he heard Remus say, and suddenly he was faced with one of Bertha's pictures, watching it get submerged into the clear potion. He watched the witch's stubby fingers then place a small tea light onto the surface of the potion, and closed his eyes as it got lit.
"No. Open." he was surprised to hear Ablai speak in English, albeit in a thick accent, and his first reaction was to raise his head, only to feel two hands move his head back. "No. Think now." she spoke slowly, taking pauses that felt enormous between each of her words. "Eyes open. Don't move. Think. Where is..."
"Bertha." Remus finished the sentence, and Sirius looked at her picture, confused as to what to do. Was he supposed to see anything?
"How am I-"
"Shush! Think!" Ablai's voice bombed through his ears, and Sirius figured he'd play a bit, before making up an excuse and leaving. He kept looking at Bertha's submerged picture, frustrated.
This was useless - there was nothing there, apart from the tea candle moving lazily on the surface of the water. Nothing. Perhaps this was not as much a lead as a prank the locals were playing. He was not amused in the slightest however, and was ready to lift his head and leave, when he saw a movement.
It was light, yet he could swear that there was a flicker in Bertha's eyes. He furrowed his brows, and called her name.
Was it his imagination?
He did it once more, wondering why the witch was not reprimanding him again for talking, when he saw it again. Bertha blinked, and her mouth moved, despite no sound coming out. First, it was almost imperceptible, before her lips moved in wider and wider motions, until it was clear that she was speaking, she was trying to say something. This was not the movement she was making in the pictures of the Prophet, no, this was something different, something urgent - it looked more like the portraits in Hogwarts, it was as if she was able and trying to speak to him.
"Bertha - Bertha, what is it? Bertha?" he asked, approaching closer and closer, avoiding the tea candle until the top of his nose touched the potion. He could hear her now. He heard her screaming, yelling, and the face in the picture changed into a grimace of unexplainable agony and suffering.
"He's alive! He was alive! He's alive! Sirius! He was alive!"
"Who's alive, Bertha, who?"
"Him!" she screamed her answer, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if she was exasperated that she had to answer this while in immense torment.
"Where are you? Bertha, where are you now?"
This question seems to have stopped her in her tracks, as she took a moment to ponder her answer, before she covered her face in her own hands, shaking her head madly from side to side.