Chapter 133
Arcturus's silence, Sirius perceived as hesitation — whether to tell or not.
"I'm afraid, uncle, you won't believe me, having already condemned me, for the truth always hurts."
"Stop prevaricating, boy."
"Professor Dumbledore. Under the pretext that this item was entrusted to him and he had desperately been searching for it to return it to its owner. And he knew the password to conceal the map. I confess, I was quite surprised then."
"Nonsense! The Headmaster didn't know about the map, and even if he had, he wouldn't have acted that way!" A spell could have flown from his wand at any moment, given Black's unstable state, but Arcturus never once showed his concern.
"I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
Sirius wanted to object, but the more details this strange boy — his first cousin once removed, whom he was seeing for the first time in his life — recounted, the more convinced he became that it was all true. However, even despite his dissatisfaction with Dumbledore, Sirius did not want to discard his childish faith in the Great Wizard.
"The Headmaster was right," he said finally. "This item belonged to me and my friends."
"And now the map is no longer with him?" Arcturus nodded. "Is it with you? Am I right?"
Sirius was awkwardly silent.
"Not yet."
"The main thing is that your mind is intact," Arcturus smiled, and his smile was unexpectedly sincere. "I'm glad Sirius Black hasn't gone mad. I should also undergo the ritual to obtain an Animagus form… will you help?"
Sirius became wary and wanted to say something caustic, insulting his own family and questioning the boy's words, but for some reason he didn't dare. Arcturus, receiving no answer, continued.
"After losing the map, through logical deduction, I was able to find out about the four Gryffindors who were called the Marauders. When the map was used incorrectly, it would start insulting someone named Snivellus. But when I accidentally uttered this nickname in the presence of our Head of House, Professor Snape, the days of detentions and attempts to find out where I had learned it… were not pleasant."
At this, Sirius couldn't help but smirk.
"And then it was easy to find out who studied in the same year as Professor Snape. That's how I found out who the Marauders were. You, James Potter, who died at the hands of Voldemort, one Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, killed by you, as it turned out, because of his betrayal." Sirius became wary when the platinum-haired boy dared to speak the name of You-Know-Who. "And then, simple logic. It wasn't hard to guess that these were nicknames, but three of them are animal nicknames. I assume you were all Animagi, but without specifics. Prongs — could be an elk or a stag, Wormtail — a rat, Moony — perhaps a wolf? I'm not sure. And as for who is who, it's difficult for me to guess."
Sirius listened, and one thought circled in his head: how could this boy have figured all this out, and should he treat him with even a modicum of kindness? After all, before him was just a teenager who likely did not fully understand the extent of Sirius's animosity towards his father and the two noble houses whose offspring he was.
But Sirius never realized that the story itself was fabricated and that Arcturus knew exactly who was who.
"Alright, that's understandable, but why did you call me here? What do you want from me… Arcturus?"
"Nothing, uncle. Nothing for now. Just… let's have dinner. Talk, like relatives who haven't seen each other for far too long."
Sirius wanted to object, but something stopped him. Perhaps the sincerity in the boy's voice. Or perhaps the fact that he suddenly remembered having dinner with his family… together with his younger brother Regulus, whom he had still loved, even though he considered him a fool who had made a grave mistake — choosing the wrong side.
Only this did not change the fact that Sirius pushed away the food and drink, but, unfortunately for himself, he did not notice how Arcturus's smile flickered for a moment.
"You look very much like your father. But your gaze is like that of my foolish brother, who went down the same path as your family."
"Is that so," Arcturus replied quietly. "As for Uncle Regulus… I wouldn't be so sure."
Sirius frowned, and the boy before him began a new story, this time about Regulus Black, Sirius's younger brother, whom the latter had all these years blamed for spinelessness, for weakness and stupidity, which prompted him to side with the Death Eaters.
Sirius, despite all his attempts to remain vigilant, became entangled in Arcturus's web, which plunged him into a whirlpool of memories with words. And with each minute, Sirius lost more and more of the anger and readiness to attack that had been characteristic of him at the beginning of the conversation.
"If you're telling the truth, which I doubt, then it turns out my brother sacrificed himself to help defeat You-Know-Who. But didn't that mad freak die… he made Horcruxes… we need to tell Dumbledore!" Sirius muttered thoughtfully, frequently growing angry when his gaze fell on the Slytherin locket, turned into a Horcrux.
He didn't want to admit it, but family knowledge had often helped him in life, and many of his specific skills, such as checking with a special spell for dark magic, convinced him of the truthfulness of the story more than the honest Arcturus.
But this was amusing, considering this story was the only truthful one among all the others, but Sirius was not supposed to know this. As were the details about Regulus — Arcturus would have had no way to justify how he knew them. But the main fact that Regulus turned to the side of good at the end of his life greatly burdened Sirius.
"I think the Headmaster knows better than us. Professor Dumbledore generally knows things about which, if known, one should act."
"You can tell whose son you are," Sirius chuckled, but without the previous hatred. For a turmoil was occurring in Sirius's soul right now. "Dumbledore, despite all his mistakes, is a great wizard who saved tens of thousands of lives! So have some shame, Lucius's son."
The already broken man broke down even further, remembering all the terrible words he had said to his brother before their quarrel. After that, he had met his brother only once, during a large-scale battle, and they had only glanced at each other and then gone their separate ways.
It turned out that his brother was a true hero, and he, Sirius, was beginning to see himself as merely a pathetic fool who could only wag his tongue, missing the true traitor among his friends.
"I had a falling out with my father, so I would ask you not to call me that."
Sirius's wand was finally lowered, as were his eyes.
"Yes, I don't really care…"
He was saddened, but his nephew was not about to stop.
"Surely you defend the Headmaster even after what he did to you…"
Black abruptly shoved his chair back, standing up and slamming the table. The locket jumped slightly, as did the dishes on the table.
"What do you know! I was guilty of not keeping watch! And Pettigrew didn't kill those Muggles — I killed them, by accident! The Headmaster couldn't do anything!"
"Listen to yourself… If that's so, why was it possible now? Has reality changed? As far as I know, all the charges simply fell on Pettigrew."
"It just happened that way. You're too young to understand the whole situation. You think you know everything, but by flaunting it, you only show your stupidity."
Sirius's last words were a childish attempt to shield himself from someone else's truth and an attempt to demonstrate that he was older here and that children were not to judge him. But Arcturus knew how to convey information.
"Is that so. And I, being foolish, simply entertained the thought that it was because of the inheritance. Professor Dumbledore decided to hurry up with your release. I think, before he saw the will, he had long since become accustomed to leaving you to rot in Azkaban."
With the last word, a dark clot of some spell flew past Arcturus's face at tremendous speed.
"What will?"
For the first time during the entire conversation, Arcturus was genuinely shocked and frightened, quickly changing his expression. Perhaps he simply hadn't expected such an attack, or perhaps he had finally realized that Sirius Black, having been a prisoner of Azkaban for nine long years, although diminished in skill and strength, was still one of the most skilled wizards of the Order of the Phoenix. However, even so, he was nowhere near Moody's level.
It was time to discard everything superfluous and finally get down to business. So, under Sirius's pointed wand, Arcturus began to tell how much Walburga Black had loved her wayward son, to the point of rejecting the better heir. Or so Arcturus chose to present it, completely destabilizing the foundations in Sirius's head and weaving his little web deeper.
***
The path leading to Sirius Black's mansion was no longer a path. Neither was the surrounding territory — everything had turned into a battlefield.
Alastor Moody, leaning on his staff, walked heavily beside Dumbledore, discussing what had happened. His artificial leg left deep footprints in the black, scorched earth — here, on this patch of what had once been a garden, the snow had been erased by fire, explosions, and running feet.
Yes, destruction reigned all around.
Craters from explosive spells alternated with scorched patches where the earth had hardened into black ash. Here and there, the remnants of what had once been bushes still smoldered. The mansion itself had acquired new scars. The walls were scored with cutting spells, several windows were blown out, and the porch was split by a direct hit from something strong and destructive. After all, all the protective charms had been torn down during the battle.
"Those Mordred-cursed bastards," Moody spat, his magical eye spinning wildly, recording every detail, every footprint, every dent. "They clearly counted on you not being there. But they didn't count on me being there!"
"Someone — and I think we both know who — informed them that I would be unable to come at a specific moment, Alastor."
Moody grinned crookedly.
Dumbledore walked beside him, understanding that it could have been different. He had helped the clean-up squad for most of the day, but not too diligently. He hadn't wanted to make life too easy for the squad. The irony of fate: if he had known that Lucius would still risk an attack, he would have helped with the clean-up for real. He would have finished the Acromantulas in half an hour and arrived here earlier. However, the attack was repelled in any case.
Because Moody was there — or rather, he appeared as soon as he learned of the attack, having been assigned to this matter by Dumbledore.
"I have nothing to do now. I'm sitting on the pension you practically arranged for me. And pensioners, Albus, get bored. They wait for the chance to rip out someone's spine."
Moody was here five minutes after receiving the alarm. And not alone. With him were two battle stars of Aurors — ten men he knew personally, who had gone through fire, water, and hell with him. Formally, they were not obliged to obey the suspended Head of the Auror Office. But Alastor Moody commanded such respect among his colleagues that he was practically idolized.
"A dozen of the most loyal, most experienced fighters," Moody continued, surveying the battlefield. "Off duty. Which means they have the right to use whatever they want. And they did."
Alastor told Dumbledore how they had arrived. Upon arrival, they learned that three of the five Aurors placed by the Ministry to guard Sirius were already dead. Also dead was an old comrade of Moody's, who had fought alongside him back in the days of the Order of the Phoenix, when they had helped the Ministry. "Helped" was an understatement. When Alastor and his men arrived, he was already bleeding out but still alive. He later died, and Moody did not forgive that.
"Lucky for those who had changed shifts an hour earlier," Moody said. "Otherwise, three of the dead would have been from that star. As it was, these dilettantes arrived about five minutes after us."
Dumbledore nodded. He knew how much every subordinate's life cost Moody. Not to mention comrades… battle comrades.
Thanks to the presence of the old but very strong Auror and his equally strong fighters, the numerical advantage of the attackers was overcome by quality. However, the attackers were not weak either, but the elite of the Auror Office were better.
There were about thirty attackers — in masks and black cloaks. The new Aurors, like the three who had died before Moody's arrival, did not represent the level of training of the entire Auror Office. And even so, they held out… although rather the protective charms on the mansion held out.
But those who had served during the civil war, who had participated in dozens of skirmishes, who had faced Dark wizards and criminals in battle for years, if not decades — they had become more skilled and powerful, especially thanks to the mentorship of Alastor, who had been head of the Auror Office for a long time. They managed to overcome the strength of nearly thirty attackers.
"Two were in command," Moody said, his one healthy eye narrowing. "They fought in a familiar way. I've seen that style before, but their faces were also hidden by masks and hoods — as befits self-respecting scum."
The elite of the Auror Office's elite, personally raised by Alastor himself over years of faithful service, managed to demonstrate why Mad-Eye was proud of them. The attackers, having lost a third of their number and realizing they were facing Moody himself — Mad-Eye — began to retreat. The bodies of their fallen comrades were either burned before retreating or taken with them, as were the wounded, and then they disappeared.
But even during the retreat, Moody personally killed two more.
After Moody's account, both were silent, each thinking their own thoughts. Until Dumbledore asked the main question.
"So where did Sirius disappear to, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked, and for the first time in this conversation, something like concern sounded in his voice.
Yes, Moody had told him the most important thing first.
Moody turned to him.
"When we repelled the attack, I decided to say hello. Hadn't spoken to him since his release, you know. And then we discovered he wasn't there. We had a crime scene investigator with us," Moody said. "And I'm a pretty good tracker myself. I can say with confidence: he left on his own. Through the window."
He pointed to the facade of the mansion, to one of the windows.
"Apparently, in his form."
Dumbledore shook his head. Both of them knew about Sirius's Animagus form.
"I didn't even think Sirius would want to run away somewhere," he said. "He was just freed. Nine years in Azkaban. I thought he'd be happy to stay in his home longer."
"You always think for others, Albus," Moody said. "And forget that they might think differently."
"Old friend, perhaps you meant — of others?"
"No, Albus. For others."
Albus thought for a moment in silence and said:
"That's what I never liked about him. Too unstable an element. Sirius was always unpredictable. That made him a good lone wolf, but a bad soldier."
"And a bad prisoner too," Moody added. "Nothing's likely to happen to him. Since we don't know where he is, those who attacked won't know either."
"I hope you're right, Alastor."
They walked a little further, where the tracks led to the site of Apparition. Alastor's people had already checked everything — alas, not enough traces of spatial magic remained to track him. Too much time had passed, and much magic had been used in the vicinity, given that the attackers had appeared somewhere nearby.
The Headmaster even tried to find Sirius through a blood ritual — for he had his blood. But alas, nothing. The ritual could not find Sirius.
Only waiting remained. And yet, tomorrow, Lucius Malfoy's son could have received the Black inheritance, but due to Walburga's condition, he could not claim the Headship of the house, since Sirius Black was now free.
Namely, the Head of the house can distribute everything, even what has already been bequeathed. If Sirius did not return by tomorrow — but so far, all attempts to find him had been in vain.
Dumbledore had protected Sirius from everything except foolishness.
But the fact that the attack had been pointless and without result did not negate the fact that Dumbledore was extremely displeased. That is why, in the coming days, Malfoy enterprises would be raided at random. Perhaps someone would even set fire to one of their shops. Much could happen, but Dumbledore hoped the sequence and pressure would make Lucius think about his behavior.