More Than Just a Game
Fleur blinked a couple of times, clearly caught off guard, before quickly regaining her composure with a slight lift of her chin.
"Of course," she said with a small smile, though a faint blush had already crept onto her cheeks. "It has better taste than most."
"Yeah… though I was talking about your necklace. Looks pretty expensive," Harry replied, amused.
Fleur glanced down at the pendant, where the little creature was still playing with it. She cleared her throat quickly. "Yes… that's what I meant as well," she said, keeping her composure.
Harry didn't answer right away.
He just looked at her, a faint smile on his face that made it clear he didn't believe her for a second.
"So, how have you been, Miss Villain? Feels like we haven't crossed paths lately. That's a bit strange," Harry said, still smiling at her.
That made her freeze for just a moment.
"Ahem… well, I've been a bit busy. And I'm sure you have too," she replied, as if taking a second to steady herself before offering him a smile.
Harry watched her for a moment, tilting his head slightly as he studied her in silence.
"Is that so? And it's not because of what happened during the trial? I was pretty sure you were avoiding me," he said, his tone light, almost teasing.
Fleur opened her mouth, then closed it again, her ears turning slightly red.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened in the Dark Lake. You saved me, and if I remember correctly, you took the chance to touch my waist. If anything, I should be the one offended by that kind of behavior," she said quickly, defensive.
"Oh, so I'm the one harassing you now. I see," Harry said, his smile widening just a little.
Fleur held his gaze for a second longer…
and then she was the first to look away.
Something about the way he was looking at her seemed to annoy her for a moment. Without another word, she shoved the small Niffler into Harry's arms.
"I don't have time to talk to you. I still have a lot to do, like… like… it doesn't matter, I'm busy," she said, giving him one last look before turning around and slamming the door behind her.
Though it looked more like she was trying to escape out of embarrassment.
That only seemed to amuse Harry, who let out a small smile as he looked down at the Niffler in his hands… the same one that had managed to steal Fleur's necklace while she was distracted.
He caught it just before it could stuff it into its pouch.
"You really do have quick hands…" Harry muttered, amused, glancing at the necklace for a moment before looking back at the door.
He seemed to be thinking about something…
something she probably wouldn't like.
Then he turned and started walking back toward Hagrid's hut.
Not before glancing toward a nearby window, noticing Madame Maxime standing there, trying to hide her massive figure while looking in Hagrid's direction. Harry shook his head, dismissing it, and kept walking.
…
Sirius returned to his office through the fireplace.
His face was deeply thoughtful, even slightly pale and tired, as if he had just learned something he had ignored for years, something now weighing heavily on his chest.
He walked straight to his desk and dropped into his chair, pressing a hand against his forehead for a moment.
"So, Regulus…" he murmured, as memories from his past began to surface.
His brother Regulus had never really been someone Sirius got along with. Like most of his family… or at least most of them. A firm believer in blood purity, their mother's favored son, the one she placed all her pride in.
So it hadn't been a surprise for Sirius to see him on the battlefield, fighting for the Dark Lord as one of his most loyal followers. His disappearance hadn't stirred much in him back then. He had even believed Voldemort had him killed for being useless.
Back when Sirius was still the idiot he used to be.
But now… after hearing Kreacher's story, after understanding things he had never even considered before, simply because he didn't know…
His emotions were shifting in ways he couldn't quite control.
And on top of that, Kreacher's other words kept echoing in his mind.
"Then Master Regulus drank all the potion… and Kreacher saw… s… saw… Master Regulus… being dragged down… to the bottom of the lake…"
"Haa…" Sirius let out a quiet breath, repeating those words in his head, especially that part.
Then, suddenly, he looked up at the portraits of the former Headmasters, who were watching him closely, clearly confused by his state.
"Dumbledore should have a private library, right? Where is it?" Sirius asked directly, getting straight to the point as he fixed his gaze on them.
"Why do you want to know that?" Black asked immediately, fixing him with a sharp look.
"Dumbledore certainly has one, but it only holds the most dangerous books that used to be kept in the Restricted Section. There's nothing in there worth your time," Headmaster Dippet added calmly.
"And why would you tell him that? Aren't you worried he might try something with those things?" Black shot back at once, frowning.
"Nonsense. Ever since he returned as Headmaster, he's made it quite clear what kind of person he is. He's doing a far better job than any of us ever did," Dippet replied, just as calm.
"Indeed. Every one of his actions has been aimed at uniting the students. Not even I would have done it better. Though I would prefer he focused more on knowledge than unity, it is still something truly commendable," said another of the portraits, a man named Basil Fronsac.
"What is it you're looking for, child?" a gentle voice asked. It was a witch, Dilys Derwent.
"I don't have the full picture. I only know it's a very dark object… something tied to a person's soul. Maybe… something tied to immortality?" Sirius said, his tone steady.
At his words, several of the portraits visibly frowned, especially the older ones.
"He doesn't mean… that, does he?" one of them muttered to the portrait beside him.
The other frowned even deeper, a clear look of disgust crossing his face at the mere thought.
"What?" Sirius asked, looking at them.
"No… perhaps it's something else," another portrait said quickly, cutting in before anyone else could speak, easing the tension.
He was likely the oldest portrait in the room. Beside him, seated at a table in front of a chessboard, was another former headmaster, arms crossed.
They were the second Headmaster of Hogwarts, Brian Gagwilde, and his successor, Walter Aragon.
As he spoke, the others fell silent, letting him continue. He didn't speak often, but when he did, he carried more weight than any of them. After all, each of them had once relied on his counsel.
"The private library is behind the Headmaster's office. I imagine you've never stepped inside since taking the position, given your distaste for Dumbledore. The key is in your desk. What lies in there is not meant to leave that room, so I suggest you choose carefully what you take from it," he said, his voice calm and measured.
"What is it you're not telling me?" Sirius asked, frowning.
"If it is what we think it is… you'll find it there as well. Though… let us hope it isn't," the old Headmaster replied, as if he didn't even want to name it.
"And one more thing, boy… Professor Gryffindor would be proud to see someone like you bringing the houses together. They were never meant to compete, but to stand united despite their differences, just as the four of them once did. Keep going," he added with a faint, proud smile before turning back to his chess game.
Sirius watched him for a moment, then gave a firm nod before turning toward his desk, reaching for the drawer.
But just as he was about to open it, the fireplace in his office suddenly flared to life.
A figure came flying out of it as if thrown, crashing onto the floor in front of the desk, hitting the chairs with a heavy thud.
Sirius immediately recognized the man and his eyes widened in shock as he rushed forward.
"Mad-Eye?" he said, kneeling beside him.
The old Auror was covered in cuts, blood running from his mouth. He pushed himself up slightly, wincing before spitting blood to the side.
"Well, Black… looks like your little investigation turned out to be a lot bigger than you thought," the Auror said, a rough, almost predatory grin spreading across his face.
His scarred features, twisted and uneven like something crawling beneath his skin, looked even more unsettling now, covered in blood and fresh wounds.