Bertha Jorkins was not able to speak a word more. She could nod, and she did nod, and shake her head, buried still in her hands, but was not able to signal, in any shape or form, where she was hiding.

"You're missing, Bertha, you know that? Do you want someone to find you?" She nodded her head wildly, madly, gripping at her hair, yet when he asked her again and again where she was, when he tried to name areas, villages he could barely pronounce, even when he asked if she was still in Albania, there was nothing coming back.

He tried to approach her even further, but found himself unable to physically, as if his body was stuck there. He paused, and took a deep breath. Then, something struck him. Bertha called out to him. She called out to him, to Sirius Black.

"Bertha- remember me, Bertha?"

"I didn't kill those Muggles, Bertha." To his surprise, she nodded again, muffling something he could not hear. "I didn't kill those Muggles Bertha, believe me. I escaped, and I don't know why, I wanted to help you, I know the Ministry isn't - I didn't kill those people, Peter did, Pettigrew did."

Another nod. Sirius felt a knot in his stomach, as someone believed him. Someone that had not been part of the Order, someone that was not close to him, accepted his explanation.

"Do you know that, Bertha? Do you know that?" The nods continued, wilder and wilder, and Sirius could feel his heart beating in his throat.

"Is that who you mean was al-" he trailed off as he saw her change her mad nodding to shaking her head, and he felt as if gripping his own face with his hands, but felt unable to do so, afraid that even blinking would break their connection. Slowly, he watched Bertha move her fingers away from her face, and for a few seconds, all he could see was the bright blue sky. The blue sky and its clouds darkened quickly in a greenish haze, before morphing, only for a split second, into a face he wished he could have ripped apart right then and there.

"Bertha, how do you- hey, hey!"

An acidic, vinegar-like smell inundated his nostrils, and he coughed loudly as he did so, closing his eyes as they started to burn him. He scratched at his neck, realising that he no longer was facing the bowl and Bertha, nor a slue sky, nor the smashable face of Peter Pettigrew, but a wooden ceiling. It felt like the visions he had back in England, back at Magdalena's house, yet much quicker.

"Can you hear me?"

He recognised Remus's voice, and turned his head towards its source, only to hear him whisper that it was good Ablai was blind as a bat.

"Wha-..."

"Your disguise, it… I don't know when's the last time you drank it, or if it was that potion… You're back to yourself."

Sirius couldn't care less about his disguise, however, and he lifted himself off, watching the old witch back in her rocking chair and smoking her pipe, unperturbed by them.

"I talked to her, Remus, I- I talked to her. She knows, somehow, she knows about Pettigrew, and knows he's alive, and I think- I think she knows Voldemort is still alive, somehow, too."

"What?"

"I talked to her, Remus - couldn't you hear me?" He furrowed his brows as Remus shook his head, and started telling him what he saw, when the old witch got off her chair and handed Remus the bowl with the transparent potion and Bertha's picture.

"Throw this. Here. Under a tree. Not the picture." she grumbled, taking out the picture from the bottom with her hand, and Remus followed suit with a nod. Sirius wondered for how long he had been in the trance, or what they talked about while he was in it, as Remus seemed not to debate the elderly witch on it. "And, your friend? Dead, alive?"

"She's alive." Sirius replied quickly.

"Mnop." Ablai shook her head, her reaction being more like a teacher amused at a student's comically wrong answer, than someone talking about death.

"How do you know she's dead, then?"

Ablai sat down heavily next to him, and nodded to herself before answering. In short sentences and a broken English, she told him she can't see much, but she can read people easily, and that she could indeed hear the answers Bertha gave. That she has done this since before Sirius was born, and that those were not the answers and the voice of someone alive. Those were the answers of someone who fell through Death's door a short time ago, and who was still confused as to what happened to them. Experience taught her how to tell between the living and the dead, and how many years ago, during Grindelwald's rise to power, how such difficult skills were unfortunately needed.

By that time, Remus had returned, and listened closely to the old woman's tales.

"Do you know Dumbledore, as well?" Remus asked carefully, and the old woman nodded. "We were sent by Dumbledore, to find out about Bertha. If there's any other way you can help us-... we could repay you, handsomely for that."

Ablai stood up, and rummaged through her drawers, before taking out a small vial that seemed to be filled with dark ink. To both of their surprise, she handed it to Sirius, asking him to put a drop at the back of his tongue when he felt he could not sleep. No more than a drop, no more than once a week. Labouring through finding the English translation of what she wanted to say, eventually they managed to piece together what she was trying to say.

That even though she could barely see him, no wonder he hid in the body of someone else. That he had the look of someone who's been ill for most of his life, of someone who hasn't had a good sleep or meal in years, and that it wasn't only his dead friend, that he also looked like he was knocking on Death's door.

Sirius and Remus got out of the old witch's house with nothing else apart from directions to the closest inn from there, after she laboriously analysed the map they had, feeling each trail they took with one hand, her wand in the other, until she pointed her wand on a specific spot, leaving a small burn mark onto it for them to remember to go there. Even though they kept mentioning she did not need to do this as they already had arranged with another innkeeper, and that they had paid him in advance, she kept insisting, until they acquiesced.

To their surprise, right as they left, Ablai pulled each of them close to her wrinkled and sun-weathered face, and kissed each of them on both kissed, with pathos and a loud smacking of her lips. The aloof old grandmother seemed to have warmed up to them, Remus aptly and humorously concluded as they stepped out of the door, handing Sirius his flask with the Polyjuice potion.

The two quietly continued on their road towards the inn Ablai had recommended to them, not talking to each other. Sirius was mulling on his conversation with the old witch, both in private and with Remus, and Remus… Well, he was unsure what he was mulling on, yet figured if there was something he wanted to share, he could do so out of his own volition.

And he did, soon after they had reached the inn and shared a few drinks between them.

"You know, while you were in there, Ablai and I got to talking a bit. Well, as much as she could talk in English. Do you know why she kicked Daniela out?" Sirius shook his head, and Remus continued. "Apparently she's been getting a bit too interested lately in some of the old books Ablai has, and asking some questions relating to quite dark magic. She even caught her rummaging through her things once or twice. That's why she got kicked like a dog in the rain - it's punishment for her, not to be involved in the rituals and learn."

"What kind of questions does she ask?"

"Your guess is as good as mine here. Ablai just waved me off when I asked, but considering the rituals the old lady knows…"

"That little girl, eh? She didn't strike me as-" he wanted to continue his sentence, yet realised mid-way that throughout their friendship, neither did Peter strike him as anything but their friend and comrade. The image of Peter in his head, however, gave him an idea. Yes, Bertha was dead, but if they came back, if he came back with a picture of Peter… Maybe that would work, maybe that would- "Do you think that would work with-"

"We barely got anything from that, Si-Barry." Remus seemed to have already read his thoughts. If they could find a way to go inside the mind of

"We got something out. We know now that Bertha is- we now know there is a chance she's dead, Remus." And in Albania, of all places, the place where Voldemort was rumoured to still be hiding in.

"What do you mean, she may be dead?"

"That's what Ablai said. What she told me after you left. She said Bertha's dead, but the old hag's never seen or heard her before, so perhaps, perhaps there could still be a chance she could still be alive." Sirius was half talking to Remus, half talking to himself, putting his thoughts in order. "But you remember what they all said, isn't it? Ablai knows this, Ablai knows that-... sure, I don't know more than you about what the old hag knows or not, but Bertha's voice, and what she said - she felt real. From somewhere, it was her. I know this. It wasn't trickery, it wasn't forgery. It was… something else."

Remus grumbled something under his breath, scratching at his temples.

"That can't be real… that can't be."

"Reminds you of the war, eh? Reminds you of those times back then, people disappearing left and right…"

"We aren't back in those times." Remus asserted loudly, furrowing his brows. He seemed a bit cross as he cleared his throat and leaned over. "Mate, look at me. We aren't back in war times, at least not yet. There hasn't been any-"

"A fucking basilisk doesn't just appear out of a sudden and almost kills Harry for us to say nothing has been happening!"

He may have been a bit too loud, as he noticed a few patrons turning around to look at them. Despite still being hidden under the guise of someone else, Sirius covered his head in his palms, rubbing at his head - or rather, Barry's shaven head. His last intention was to bring any unwanted attention towards them, and yet, there he was, losing his temper and causing a scene.

"I'm not saying you're imagining things." After a long pause, Remus finally spoke, himself a bit unsure of what to say. "I'll go get us some drinks."

A while later, he returned to the table with not only two drinks, but with the innkeeper, who kept scratching his bald head as he seemed a bit unsure of why he was brought to their table.

"Do you mind telling my friend what you told me here, Emin?"

"Said I seen you friend, yeah. Maybe a week before, maybe more."

"Here?" Sirius asked quickly, perking up. Emin nodded, and pointed to a table not far from his own.

"She seemed, uh… what's the word, my English is a bit… loopy? Like-" Emin rotated his hands around his ears, moving his head from side to side.

"Out of it?" Remus questioned, and Emin nodded.

"Yeah, that. Kept ordering things she already had at the table. Like salt, but she already had salt, then she put too much, then she was looking like-... like she was seeing something, hm, something bad. Talked strange. And then followed someone outside." With that, the innkeeper clapped and wiped his hands, shaking his head. The gesture was clear enough That was it. The end. That's the last I've seen of her.

"That was it?" Sirius asked, and the bald innkeeper nodded. "No, that can't be it." That can't be all. She salted her food and left cannot be what they came all the way here for. "Where did she go?" Sirius put a hand through his hair, surprised at the buzzcut he had, before realising that of course he had a buzzcut - that was not his body. Of course it wasn't.

Get a grip, man. Can't have two now lost here.

The bald man shrugged his shoulders, and was not able to tell them anything else, mumbling that there weren't many people in the inn anyway that day, as it was quite rainy, and he couldn't recall anyone else from that night, or anyone that could add more to his recollection. Sirius turned to Remus, shrugging his shoulders, and laughing, laughing with a voice that was not his, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. His hunch, his entire reason for travelling, was to find out that Bertha was acting shifty, kept asking for salt, and left in the middle of the night… only to then maybe die.

Perhaps there was a reason that the Ministry knew nothing more.

A voice resonated in his head - a wizard can't get lost in Albania, not unless they don't want to be found. He couldn't remember how he knew this, or where he read it, but perhaps… perhaps Bertha, for some reason, did not want to be found. Perhaps she was not the body he saw in his vision. Perhaps that was not even a body he saw in his vision. Perhaps Bertha had willingly gone to Albania to die.

"Listen, if he remembers something else, Emin, can you write to me-" Remus spoke, writing down his address on the corner of the map they had, before tearing it and giving it to the innkeeper. "Anything. It's really important to us. We- no one has seen her in a long time."

The innkeeper nodded, as Sirius grumbled a word of thanks as well, rubbing at his face as he took in everything that the innkeeper told him.

"What… uh, what strange things was she talking about?" Remus asked, hoping there would still be any hope to hold onto. Emin, however, shrugged, grumbling that he wasn't paid to listen to the British, before taking the paper and shoving it deep in his pockets, before returning back to the bar.

Sirius profusely doubted that he was going to write back to them. In fact, he had already moved onto other matters - he had to go back to Ablai, and ask about Pettigrew, ask if there was a way to see him, to find out anything about him. He doubted, however, that Remus would agree to this, and with his Polyjuice reserve running low, he concocted a few excuses to send him back to Britain… and instead ask someone else, someone that would surely go with his plans, and someone that perhaps could speak Albanian.

Intermezzo

"Is it not your greatest wish, at the end of your life, when you perish and look, well - whoever, or whatever it is to be looked at - in the eye, when it will look back at you, when it will ask you, with your hand on your heart, whether you are content with what you have done in this world…." Albus took a sip of his tea, and Magdalena felt like she was being stared down at more than whatever form of divine retribution would look down upon her when she would indeed die.

"Well, do you not want to answer it with a light heart, look at it and say that yes, you have done all you could for your fellows? That your slights pale in comparison to the good you have done?"

Magdalena avoided answering Albus immediately, and swirled her cup idly, looking to the side. Harry Potter's snowy white owl had been eating away at some worms she'd found in the garden, basking in the summer sun next to Harry's unopened letter, addressed to Sirius. She was unsure what to do with it - if to answer him first, or send the owl on a wild trek to wherever he was now. She did not want to worry the boy - he already seemed like he was having quite a difficult summer, and quite a difficult time with his aunt and uncle, and to make him worry about Sirius as well felt like a cruel thing to do to him. Especially after having promised to take him to see the Bulgarian team arrive in Britain - but with his godfather not there, Magdalena had no choice but to halt those plans, despite how happy he seemed.

If asked, Magdalena would have said her worry for Sirius's wellbeing was due to her debt to Albus Dumbledore. That was why she had used an old trick her mentor Avizina taught her - a hair of his from when he first cut it, each end knotted on a gold needle, both needles standing on top of a mirror. If anything bad were to happen to him, the needles would fall.

And so far, each time she checked, they have been standing upright.

Is this what will fill the emptiness in your soul then, and what will bring back what got detached from you in all those years? She would often think, reflecting on his sudden departure and trip, wondering how close he was to achieving his goals. He needed something to hang onto, something more tangible than either having Harry live with him or getting his name cleared through Pettigrew. And if that would cure his afflicted soul, perhaps that could be used. Because wouldn't another ally on Albus Dumbledore's side finally rid the world of Voldemort, and wouldn't that avenge the death of her mentor, and wouldn't that fill the void in her own soul?

Albus's visit came as a surprise to Magdalena. He had found out by then that Sirius must have left, as he was informed that Remus was in Albania, allegedly on holiday with a new friend.

"I am not sure that counts as a good deed. My good deeds are from my debt."

"You have no debt to me, Maggie, you know that." Albus responded. "And I know you would have done it without the debt. You are a good person. And a forgiving one."

"And not a forgetful one, Albus. You sent me another man to kill himself on my doorstep." Magdalena interrupted, taking a sip of tea. She tried to respond as calmly as possible, however after having to weep at Avizina's casket, having to witness Fabian, with his look of anguish and madness, aim her wand at himself, seeing his eyes full of terror before they became blank, she was not sure that she could take yet another death.

"Sirius Black is many things, but I know that he loves the only family he has left, so much so that the only reason he would depart this world is if it meant it would be to protect Harry."

Magdalena knew that Albus was unaware of what Sirius had done in his first days after having come to hide with her, however kept that to herself, nodding out of habit.

"Will you take him back in then, when he comes?"

"I'll take him in if he comes. For the debt I owe you." Magdalena laughed, wondering if she would indeed see Sirius Black again. He longed for freedom, that man, certainly the opposite of being cooped up in one place. However, he had an odd way to make himself fond of, in spite of his brashness.

"I'll see how I answer Harry without opening the letter he wrote. That owl's been biting at my fingers every time I'm close to the desk. It's good for that boy, you know… to be surrounded by the people who care for him." And it would be good for Sirius too, if only there was more than his godson caring for him- She turned to Hedwig, only to furrow her brows as she saw another owl approach her window.