After their conversation with Hedda Ablai's portrait, Dumbledore could no longer deny Sirius's pleas to get Harry to spend winter holidays with him. As per her directions, she had to talk to Harry face-to-face in order to hopefully help them unveil the next piece of the puzzle. And as per her wishes, she was not to be moved from her current location, where she could watch over her own trunk, her last memory from her long time spent on the physical realm, which Sirius had brought back to Grimmauld Place.
Dumbledore agreed, thus, to have Harry spend his Christmas holidays at Grimmauld Place, as long as Harry would attend the Yule Ball.
Until that winter holiday would come, however, all Sirius could do was pace up and down the old, abandoned house, bicker with Kreacher, clean what would be Harry's bedroom and the kitchen in hopes of making at least a bit of this godforsaken place somewhat livable. Remus would visit him every now and then, however both him and Magdalena were busy with missions that Dumbledore would give them, whatever they were, which meant that the only companion he could talk to, save for his House Elf or any of the screeching portraits would be the old and dead Hedda Ablai. Every now and then, when he had nothing better to do, or when sleep would just not come to him, he'd pull out one of her journals, and he'd sit in the attic with her as she'd go over her own texts, translating them for him.
The old Durmstrang Headmistress, however, much of a trove of knowledge as she was, was an utter bore otherwise, and he found himself alone, again, until he received word from Magdalena that she would like to return his many visits with one of her own.
"This is a nice, uh, home you have here." Magdalena said upon entering, and Sirius couldn't help but laugh a desperate man's laugh.
"It's a dump, you can say it. It's been some ten years since anyone had last lived here." he waved her towards the kitchen, using his wand to light up some of the oil lamps laying around.
With Remus's visits becoming scarcer, he hadn't realised that he was slowly getting himself used to living in darkness, like a Niffler.
"I've just managed to make this kitchen fit for humans. Is it safe from your average Death Eater? Most certainly. Safe from coughing a lung from mould? Not really." Sirius patted her on the back, and watched her nod as she looked around the kitchen.
She looked around his pantry, the empty pots and pans, the rotting wooden drawers filled with rotten slop, before taking out her wand and starting a fire under one of the two cauldrons in the kitchen.
Soon enough, the other would be lit as well. In the first cauldron was a simple stew that he devoured immediately, not having realised until then how much he missed a warm, filling meal, and the second was boiling a purplish potion that released a wooden, sweet-smelling aroma that was slowly enveloping, removing, and replacing the various stenches in its vicinity. He used his wand to open the kitchen door, and watched the amber vapours travel towards the hallway, unfortunately dragging out Kreacher as well from whatever hole he had been hiding it.
No sooner had he started his usual angry tirade, that Sirius almost smacked his boot right against his head, threatening to splatter him across all the walls if he wouldn't make himself scarce again.
"I didn't know you had a House Elf." she finally spoke, rummaging through the same bag from which she got the ingredients for the House Freshening potion.
"Pride of any old self-respecting pureblood family. Everyone's dead now, so I'm stuck with him, and he's stuck with me. He knows I'm alive and here, so I can't get rid of him, not for now at least."
"I thought you, that you would've-"
"That I would've killed him?" he interrupted, amused at how she seemed to be stuttering to find her words. "I'm as shocked as you are, but after Greyback, I'd rather not go down the path of discovering how easy it is to get rid of your problems this way."
"I wonder…" Magdalena chuckled, before using her wand to extinguish the two fires. "That should brighten up this place, at least momentarily. Get rid of what's been rotting in here. I also got you this."
Sirius looked at what she pointed at, and saw a bottle of firewhisky at the edge of the table.
"Not for me, no. Not until Harry arrives, at least."
"I see. When is he coming, then?"
"Saturday, so… in about two days."
"And, pardon me, but have you thought about…"
Sirius watched her pat at her cheeks and chin, mimicking a growing beard. He patted at his own cheeks and pulled against the strands, only now realising that he had not looked at himself in a long, long time. He washed his face in the morning, but he did not feel as if he had a particular need to look into a mirror. Magdalena, meanwhile, had taken off one of her golden necklaces, and wiped down the surface before handing it to Sirius, enough for him to see a scraggly, uneven beard. Muttering to himself, he went to the main bathroom he had been using since arriving, and tried to wipe the grime off the mirror with a towel he'd cleaned recently, only managing to dirty the towel.
"My father thought cleaning was below using spells for it, so he put quite a lot of charms to ensure that it had to be done by hand and Kreacher always had something to do. But that goddamn House Elf has not touched a single speck of dust, spare for his own self in a decade." Sirius grumbled, looking through a drawer. At the bottom of it, hidden under layers and layers of what he considered trash, and most of it certainly was at this point in time, he found it.
At least that was still there.
He pulled out an old, silver-handled razor, that he recognised as having belonged to his uncle Alphard. Charmed so it would stay forever sharp, and never rust, no matter the conditions. And as he unsheathed it, there was not a single speck of rust on it, and as he ran a finger against the blade, it was as sharp as it was when he had received it as a teenager.
He had the razor, he had the soap he had been using since arriving here, yet there was not a single surface that he could use to see what he was doing. He grumbled to himself as he pulled his hair back with one hand, trying to use the unpolished silver edge of the mirror as a vague reflective surface. No sooner had he started shaving, however, that he had already managed to cut himself.
"Motherfucker." he hissed, taking out his wand and using a spell to close the cut he had made. "Listen, bird, do you know how to do this?"
"Pass me that."
He handed the razor to Magdalena, and sat himself at the edge of the bathtub. Out of politeness at how close his eyes were to the seam of where her robe opened, he closed his eyes as he felt her pull his hair away from his face, letting his head be moved to the left as he felt the first touch of the razor smoothly glide against his cheek.
"You're not half bad at this."
"I've shaved men before. Dead men, preparing them for burial, but men's faces nonetheless."
"Fabian Bones?"
"Among others. Before I started raising birds and owls, there was a period after Azkaban I worked as an undertaker, doing final rituals for the deceased that wished to be buried according to old Slavic wizarding rites."
"I see." Sirius tilted his head back, and waited for her to finish his neck, before speaking again. "Why did you come here, save for preparing me for my own burial, then?"
"I need a favour from you, Sirius Black. I need to be away from my home, for the foreseeable."
"Why?"
"Because Igor Karkaroff knows where I live and how to get- Ah, don't move!"
Sirius couldn't help himself however, as laughter overcame him and he almost toppled over the edge of the bathtub. He was still chuckling as she used a spell to close the light cut she had made, before stating he'd remain still.
"How so?"
"I wonder…" she sighed, tilting his head to the right. "In a moment of drunkenness, perhaps, I have taken him there, and I do not wish to face him unprepared, in my own space. It was a moment of drunkenness, or of weakness, who knows now which… You know how these things work, Sirius Black."
"It can be quite dangerous to show weakness to a Death Eater, Magdalena Bones. Well, go on then. Did you find something, at least?" he asked, amusement and derision emanating from each and every word he spoke.
"Do you know what can tell apart a Death Eater from a non-Death Eater?" she asked in a whisper, as if she were afraid that someone might hear her. And considering Kreacher and the portraits, someone might have indeed.
"No."
Sirius furrowed his brows, and opened his eyes, as they looked at one another, inches apart as she had stopped shaving him. She had discovered something. You sly woman, why couldn't you have started with that?
"You wouldn't even notice it." she stated in the same low tone, tilting his face again as she started carefully shaping his moustache. "There is a mark, a Dark Mark, the Dark Mark, to be exact, that is tattooed on the inner left forearm. I have been meaning to talk to you about Karkaroff before everything that happened with Greyback, but with all that has been happening… Alas. His odd, erratic behaviour was not because of the Tournament, like I thought. Like a caged animal that doesn't know what it's running from, but it knows it needs to run. He'd press on his left arm, he'd almost… itch it, he'd… Alas, I digress.
What I started to notice was that I had not seen his arms uncovered, whatever would happen, that would be the limit before he would pull away from me. And that, I found strange. Until last night, in my home, having smoked that same concoction you have smoked those months ago, Agurium, is what it's called. Do you remember that?"
Not only did he remember it, but an idea was slowly starting to form at the mention of it.
"When he awoke from the visions, it was as if he had revived from the dead. Whatever he had experienced, must have been something truly awful, and that was when he showed me the mark, and told me that not only was that mark carved by him, but that in the past few months, it had started to reappear, to become more defined. Something must have happened over the summer, he said, but he does not know what… what Igor Karkaroff does know is that the mark signifies that he is coming back, and that seems to terrify him."
"So Karkaroff is afraid Voldemort will return."
"It appears so."
"Was it him that put Harry's name in the Goblet?"
"He says he did not."
"The next time you see him…" He opened his eyes as she finished shaving him, and used a towel to wipe off the rest of the soap from his face. He raised himself back, and looked behind her, to ensure that Kreacher was not within earshot. "And you will, because you have to. Ask him, if he were to hand over The-Boy-Who-Lived to Voldermort on a platter, would the Dark Lord not forgive some small past blunders? Use Harry to wipe off a new slate for himself? Ask him that, and tell me what he says. Tell me his reaction to it." he stated, before noticing the manner in which she was looking at him. "What? You've seen my arms, don't be ridiculous. You know I'm not one."
"Do you think it would not be enough to prove your innocence? The Ministry must know, or… they have enough Death Eaters back in Azkaban to test this theory, if we were to put it forward. Perhaps not me, but if Albus Dumbledore-"
He stopped her, much as he wished it were this simple.
"You're a bit too smart to propose theories this stupid."
Sirius did wonder, however, if Dumbledore was aware of the Death Mark Death Eaters seemed to bore. He wished he could have seen it for himself - if he remembered correctly, Greyback didn't have anything like this, but at the same time, he doubted Voldemort would have made a werewolf a member of his inner circle.
He wondered if Lucius Malfoy had one. Or his cousins, Narcissa and Bellatrix. Or even-... he wondered if Harry could perhaps shed some light if good old Snivellus had been acting stranger than usual. His godson hadn't said anything about Snape recently, however they had been busy trying to fry bigger fish than him. But there was something behind Magdalena's idea. Not to prove his innocence, but if they were to catch Pettigrew, they could check his arm, and if that matched what Karkaroff had, then they would have an in. And since Karkaroff was freed on the condition that he was to cooperate with the Ministry, surely that cooperation had no statute of limitations when it came to the darkest wizard since Grindelwald.
"How quick can you obtain another dose of Agurium?"
"For Igor Karkaroff?"
"For me."
Magdalena pursed her lips, and opened her mouth surely to protest, Sirius imagined, however he was quicker to raise a finger to silence her.
"Tell me what you want, troubled bird, at the end of all of this. Not staying here, not this momentary relief from your most recent friend. Tell me where you want to fly, away from me, from Dumbledore, from England, from any memories related to Bones, to Azkaban, away from all the grief that you have experienced in this godforsaken place."
"There is a place in Crete, a wizarding village that I have always dreamt of living in, a place that allegedly nurtures the soul and revitalises the spirit of those who live in it." As she spoke of the wonders of that place, the musicality of it, the food, the people, even the language, her eyes brightened and her face lit up in a manner that Sirius had only seen when he had proposed to Harry that he should live with him.
"It shall be done."
And with that, she left to bring her pipe and ingredients.
Hours later, Sirius was in the drawing room at Grimmauld place, laying down on the sofa as he took a long, slow swig of the contents of the long ceramic pipe, and felt his lungs fill up with a warmth that started to envelop his bones and muscles. He allowed his body to slowly slump against the cushions, as he examined the deteriorated wallpaper, waiting for the effects to kick in.
He knew this time, that instead of letting the visions control him, not having known what they could do back then, he would try to control them this time. If ritualistic visions told Harry what to do to get rid of Voldemort, maybe his visions could guide their missions a bit further.
As the room started to become foggy and he waited patiently to fall into the state of out-of-body consciousness, Sirius realised how much he had missed moments of calm such as these. Moments where he could forget about himself and his condition. The smell of mould and rot was the only thing breaking the illusion, yet even that slowly started disappearing in amber-coloured clouds, being replaced by a familiar smell of cinnamon.
He felt the pipe pulled away from his hand, and he let Magdalena have it, watching as another thick cloud of vapour appeared before his eyes before she gently put it back between his fingers. He inhaled the sweet, warm concoction again, and he closed his eyes, idly humming to himself.
"Hey. Leni." he waved his free hand to the edge of the sofa, yet there was no sign of Magdalena's body anywhere nearby.
Had it already started?
"Sirius?"
Sirius furrowed his brows, not having heard the voice that called his name in a painfully long time. He jumped out of the sofa, and opened his eyes to a sight that brought an uncharacteristic tremor to his voice as he spoke.
"James? I-is that you, mate?"