Chapter 507: A Nest of Fanatics
Sunset over Diagon Alley arrived on schedule, marking the final day of Sean's
week-long holiday. Once this day passed, he would be returning to the ancient
stone halls of Hogwarts.
Slytherin's Locket remained safely tucked away in the Hope Cottage at Hogwarts,
waiting for a wizard worthy of drawing the Sword of Gryffindor to end its dark
existence.
On this final day, before Sean was set to depart the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius
Black spent the daylight hours in a state of restless hesitation.
"I'd like to tell you a story," Sirius finally said, his voice trembling
slightly.
Night was beginning to settle over England, exposing its quiet, velvet depths.
The Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty; aside from the dozen or so wizards staying
in the rooms above, the pub had fallen into a deep, rhythmic silence.
Sean already knew exactly what Sirius wanted to say, but he offered a slow,
steady nod.
"It happened a long time ago," Sirius said tentatively. "If you believe me...
please, take my arm."
Sirius extended a gaunt hand. It was a strange sensation; this was the first
time since his harrowing escape from Azkaban that he felt truly nervous.
Fortunately, he was rarely wrong about a person's character—that was his
survival instinct. Though he had made one catastrophic exception in the past—an
error that had cost him his life and his soul—he chose to trust now.
He trusted the boy before him. He trusted the future this young wizard was
building.
Before Sirius could even brace himself, Sean had already gripped the edge of his
sleeve.
"Let's go, sir," Sean said.
"Right..."
Sirius couldn't suppress a flicker of joy. With a violent, gut-wrenching twist,
they vanished from the Leaky Cauldron.
They reappeared in the hallway of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The house was
unplottable, hidden from every map and every prying eye, yet lately, it had
begun to feel as though it were haunted by more than just dust and memories.
Sirius stood before the massive family tapestry. Sean noticed the lingering
shroud of melancholy in the man's eyes.
"I haven't looked at this thing in years," Sirius murmured. "There's Phineas
Nigellus... my great-great-grandfather. Do you see him? He was the least popular
Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts...
"And Araminta Meliflua... my mother's cousin... she tried to force a Ministry
Bill through to make Muggle-hunting legal.
"And my dear Aunt Elladora... she's the one who started the family tradition of
beheading house-elves whenever they got too old to carry a tea tray.
"Naturally, whenever anyone in the family turned out to be a decent human being,
the rest of them made sure to blast them off the tree and disown them."
As Sirius spoke, Sean looked at the faces on the tapestry. He realized that in
any other world, the Black family would be considered a high-level terrorist
cell. In the wizarding world, they were simply a "Noble House" of fanatics.
"The only exceptions are few and far between," Sirius continued. "I noticed my
niece Tonks and her family aren't on here. Tonks... her mother is Andromeda, my
favorite cousin. Andromeda was blasted off too. Look—"
Sirius pointed to another charred, blackened hole between the names of Bellatrix
and Narcissa.
"Andromeda's sisters are still there, because they married lovely, respectable
pure-blood wizards. But Andromeda married a Muggle-born—Ted Tonks. And so—well,
you see the result."
Sirius made a sharp, jabbing motion with his wand toward the tapestry and let
out a dry, bitter laugh. Sean's attention, however, was drawn to the names to
the right of Andromeda's burn mark.
There, a double gold thread linked Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy, and a single
vertical line led down to the name Draco.
"You're looking at that... well, as you can see, all the pure-blood families are
related," Sirius said. "If you only let your children marry 'pure' wizards, the
pool gets very shallow very quickly. There are so few of us left. Molly and I
are cousins by marriage, and Arthur is something like my second cousin once
removed. But it's no use looking for them on this rag—if ever there was a family
of 'blood-traitors,' it's the Weasleys."
Sean's gaze then drifted to the left of Andromeda's mark: Bellatrix Black,
linked by a double gold thread to Rodolphus Lestrange.
"As for those two... they're currently rotting in Azkaban," Sirius said shortly.
Sean watched him in silence.
"Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus went in with Barty Crouch Junior," Sirius
said, his voice turning hard and staccato. "Rodolphus's brother, Rabastan, was
with them too."
Sean knew the names well. Bellatrix and Rodolphus—the monsters who had tortured
Neville Longbottom's parents into insanity.
"Nearly everyone you see on this wall has committed acts of unforgivable
cruelty," Sirius said with a tragic smirk. "No person with a conscience could
stomach them. If they do, it's only because they lack the courage to walk away.
"As you know, I walked away when I was sixteen. In the summer of 1976, I ran. I
went straight to James's house. James's parents took me in and treated me like
their own son. I was disowned for it, of course. My mother used magic to burn my
name right off this tapestry... but you can't imagine the power of it. James's
friendship, the love and acceptance his parents gave me... it changed
everything. For the first time in my life, I had a place where I belonged."
Sirius's face flushed with a sudden, vibrant heat, his eyes shining with the
memory.
"And then... I destroyed it all."
The light in his eyes vanished instantly.
"They say I sold James and Lily to the Dark Lord. In a way, they're right. I
might as well have killed them myself... When they were being hunted, when they
needed a wizard to serve as their Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm...
"At the very last second, I persuaded Lily and James to use Peter instead. I
told them to make him the Secret Keeper, not me. I thought it was clever. I
thought it would throw the Dark Lord off the scent.
"On the night they died, I went to check on Peter to make sure he was safe. But
when I reached his hiding place, he was gone. There was no sign of a struggle. I
felt a cold dread in my gut, and I flew straight to James's house. When I saw
the ruins... when I saw their bodies..."
Sirius's eyes welled with tears. His voice broke, his face turning a sickly,
ghostly pale.
"I failed them. I sent them to their deaths. And what do they do? I haven't seen
them in my dreams once. Why don't they haunt me? The victims are supposed to
haunt their murderers, aren't they? Why won't they come for me?"
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