Chapter 210: An Unbreakable Vow
Inside the dilapidated walls of the Shrieking Shack, the dust-motes hanging in the air seemed to freeze.
"The Unbreakable Vow?"
Sirius Black snapped his head up. The hollow, self-reproachful dimness in his sunken eyes vanished, instantly replaced by the feral vigilance of a cornered beast. As the estranged heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, he knew exactly what those three words meant. It was the oldest, most unforgiving magical contract in the Wizarding world. There were no loopholes. There were no second chances. The only consequence for breaking it was death.
Operating on pure instinct, the emaciated man threw out an arm, shielding the still-dazed Harry behind his tattered prison robes.
"Don't even think about it!" Sirius snarled, his voice a hoarse, violent rasp tearing through his ruined throat. He locked his manic gaze onto Tamara. "What exactly are you planning, girl?! I will never let Harry touch that damned magic! Once the vow is made, his entire future, his very life, will be chained to a single sentence!"
Facing a glare that looked ready to tear her throat out with bare teeth, Tamara didn't so much as flinch. Instead, she let her eyelashes flutter, widening her beautiful, dark eyes into pools of absolute, unadulterated innocence.
'Filthy, presumptuous mutt,' she sneered in the safety of her own mind.
Outwardly, however, she tilted her head. "I think you might have misunderstood something, Mr. Black."
Tamara spread her hands in a gesture of utter harmlessness. A perfectly measured, heartbreakingly delicate look of grievance tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Who said anything about him making the vow?"
Her gaze drifted past the ragged fugitive, landing softly on the boy with the lightning-bolt scar. When she spoke again, her tone was as gentle as a spring breeze.
"As I said just a moment ago, empty promises are worthless." She offered Harry a reassuring, empathetic smile. "Mr. Potter needs an absolute guarantee of safety. He needs the space to slowly investigate the truth of what happened twelve years ago, without the constant, terrifying fear of being stabbed in the back by someone he ought to trust."
Slowly, Tamara shifted her attention back to Sirius's grime-streaked face. The subtle, sorrowful curve of her lips deepened into something just a fraction sharper.
"So, the one who needs to wager their life to prove their innocence... is you, Mr. Black." Her voice dropped to a quiet, reasonable murmur. "Potter is merely the Bonder. He will stand right here, perfectly safe, and listen to you swear the oath with his own ears."
Sirius froze. The feral tension drained from his gaunt frame. Slowly, he turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the boy huddled behind him.
Harry stared back. Within those brilliant emerald-green eyes—eyes that were a devastating, agonizing mirror of Lily's—Sirius saw the heavy walls of guardedness. He saw a desperate, agonizing struggle between a boy who desperately wanted to believe, and an orphan who simply didn't dare to.
Twelve years. Twelve years rotting in that sunless, soul-sucking hell of Azkaban. Every freezing night, every scream echoing in the dark—he had endured it all. His only anchor, his sole motivation for swimming through the freezing waters of the North Sea, was to protect this child and to tear the throat out of the true traitor.
If offering up his own life on a magical platter would allow Harry to finally lower his wand... if it would let James's son believe, even for a single second, that his godfather wasn't a monster...
"I am willing."
Sirius didn't hesitate for a fraction of a heartbeat. He drew in a deep, rattling breath, squaring his emaciated shoulders as he met Tamara's dark gaze without a shred of fear. "As long as it keeps Harry entirely out of harm's way. As long as it proves my innocence to him... I will swear whatever oath you demand."
A secret, viper-like flicker of pure pleasure danced deep within the obsidian depths of Tamara's eyes.
'Hook, line, and sinker. Gryffindors are so wonderfully predictable.'
"Very well," she said softly.
She stepped forward, her movements unhurried and graceful, until the toes of her polished shoes stopped mere inches from Sirius's bare, filthy feet. Slowly, she extended her right hand. Her pale, smooth fingers wrapped firmly around Sirius's skeletal, grime-caked palm.
Then, Tamara tilted her head, locking her gaze onto the boy who was still frozen in place, his wand trembling slightly in his grip.
"Potter, come here," Tamara commanded. The gentle facade slipped just enough to reveal a steady, brook-no-refusal authority. "You will be our Bonder."
She gestured slightly with her chin. "Place the tip of your wand directly over our joined hands."
Tamara watched him approach, her pitch-black eyes reflecting a cold, calculating abyss that threatened to swallow the dim light of the shack entirely.
Harry hesitated. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he slowly closed the distance. Drawing in a shaky breath, he raised his arm. His knuckles were white, his hand trembling slightly as he gently pressed the tip of his holly wand against the pale skin of Tamara's hand where it met Sirius's bruised knuckles.
Inside the suffocating gloom of the Shrieking Shack, the low, melodic cadence of the Dark Lord began. It sounded like a sacred hymn, yet carried the precise, chilling weight of a sacrificial ritual.
"Sirius Black."
Tamara's pitch-black eyes locked onto the escaped convict, her voice echoing in the quiet room as she posed the first question.
"Are you willing to swear upon your very life that everything you have spoken tonight is the absolute truth, and that you never, under any circumstances, betrayed James and Lily Potter?"
Sirius didn't even look at Tamara. He kept his hollow, desperate gaze fixed entirely on Harry's face.
"I will," he answered without a sliver of hesitation.
The moment the words left his cracked lips, a brilliant tongue of red magical flame erupted from the tip of Harry's wand. It lashed out like a fiery serpent, winding tightly around Tamara's and Sirius's clasped hands, searing a glowing bond into the air between them.
Harry's heart gave a violent, painful thud against his ribs.
Because he was the Bonder, the magic was flowing directly through his core. He could feel the heavy, suffocating laws of death contained within that slender ribbon of fire with absolute, terrifying clarity.
Yet, Sirius did not drop dead. The man remained standing, his hollow grey eyes filled with nothing but raw, bleeding honesty.
Harry's grip tightened around his wand until his fingers ached. From the brief explanations Tamara and Sirius had provided, Harry knew the Unbreakable Vow couldn't magically reconstruct objective history. It could only prove that the man standing before him believed his own words down to the marrow of his bones.
'Maybe he suffered hallucinations from the Dementors?'Harry's mind raced, desperately throwing up barricades.'Maybe twelve years of torture distorted his memories?'
His logic was frantically searching for excuses, clawing at the dirt to maintain his crumbling sense of reality. After all, it was simply too massive a model shift to instantly accept that the most notorious mass murderer in British history—a man despised by the entire Wizarding world—was completely innocent.
But even so.
Looking into Sirius's eyes—eyes that were eagerly embracing the threat of sudden death just to prove his loyalty—the towering fortress of hatred and defensiveness Harry had built over the last year suffered a catastrophic collapse. The masonry of his anger crumbled into dust.
Immediately, Tamara's melodic voice cut through the heavy silence, posing the second question.
"Are you willing to swear to do everything within your mortal power to protect Harry Potter in the years to come, and never, by action or inaction, allow him to suffer any harm by your hand?"
"I will." Sirius's answer was even fiercer, ringing with absolute conviction.
A second tongue of brilliant red flame shot from the tip of the holly wand. It spiraled through the air, intertwining smoothly with the first glowing chain, pulling the magical contract agonizingly tight.
At that moment, the dam broke. Harry's eyes burned red. The hand holding his wand shook so violently he nearly dropped it, and hot, stinging tears spilled over his eyelashes, carving tracks through the dirt on his cheeks.
For this godfather and godson, separated by a chasm of twelve years of lies, torture, and agonizing misunderstanding, the emotional pressure had finally reached a boiling point.
Through their tear-blurred vision, Tamara Riddle—this usually cold, sharp-tongued Slytherin girl—appeared as nothing less than a descending angel of mercy.
If not for her brilliant, careful logical deductions... if not for this blunt, terrifying, yet absolutely obvious method of verification... Harry would never have found the courage to lower his wand. Sirius would have died a monster in his godson's eyes.
Every ounce of hostility and vigilance they had harbored toward Tamara evaporated into the damp air. In its place, a deep, overwhelming wave of gratitude flooded their chests.
However.
Just as the two Gryffindors were drowning in the saccharine, tear-soaked emotion of their reunion... Tamara slightly narrowed her bottomless dark eyes. A tiny, imperceptible hook caught the corner of her mouth.
'Idiots,' she purred internally.
The main event was only just beginning.
"Very well," Tamara said. Her voice remained perfectly calm, yet a subtle, heavy pressure bled into the syllables. "Now, for the final condition..."
She looked between the weeping boy and the trembling convict. With masterful precision, she packaged her sinister, cold-blooded calculations into the fragile, defensive shell of a young Slytherin girl who simply lacked a sense of security.
"Since I took the risk to help you piece together the truth... since I allowed you, this deeply touching pair of godfather and godson, to finally recognize each other..."
She paused, letting the silence stretch. "As an equivalent exchange—"
Tamara applied a slight pressure, her pale fingers digging firmly into Sirius's grimy hand. Her voice pitched up just a fraction, lacing her tone with a perfectly simulated layer of fearful defensiveness.
"Sirius Black, are you willing to swear that you will never harm me, the sole outsider who knows your secrets?"
Sirius didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second.
In his eyes, this brave girl had not only refrained from screaming for the Dementors, but she had single-handedly orchestrated his salvation. He was overflowing with gratitude; the very idea of harming a hair on her head was abhorrent to him. Her sudden demand for self-preservation made perfect sense. It was exactly the kind of cautious, self-protective mindset a young Slytherin would adopt after being cornered by a notorious mass murderer.
He opened his mouth to agree.
But Tamara wasn't finished. She didn't let the vow end there. Instead, she dropped the guillotine blade.
"And..."
Tamara's gaze snapped away from Sirius, locking dead onto Harry. She enunciated her next words with a slow, deliberate, and terrifying specificity.
"...to guarantee with your very life that you will never allow this impulsive, irritable godson of yours, at any point in the future and for any reason whatsoever, to cast a spell with lethal intent toward me—Tamara Riddle?"
The air in the shack slammed to a dead halt.
Harry froze, the tears still wet on his cheeks. He stared in utter bewilderment at Tamara's face, which was currently painted with a mask of stubborn, fearful defensiveness.
Was she... was she actually terrified that he would try to kill her? Harry's mind spun. When had he ever shown even a hint of wanting to hurt her? They were classmates!
As for Sirius, the man's battered mind was entirely submerged in the euphoric high of vindication and the overwhelming joy of reclaiming his godson. He saw only a frightened little girl who needed reassurance. To completely appease the student who had given him his life back, and to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that neither he nor James's son were ungrateful, murderous thugs...
Sirius nodded emphatically.
"I will."
The moment the words left his tongue, a third, blindingly bright red tongue of flame erupted from the tip of Harry's wand!
The three fiery magical chains twisted and writhed, winding tightly around each other like a braided rope of molten lava. With a sharp hiss, the flames condensed into a blinding flash of crimson light, sinking directly into the skin of Sirius's and Tamara's wrists. It faded beneath their flesh, leaving behind an invisible, indelible magical brand.
The ritual was complete.
Harry lowered his wand, his heart light and soaring. He believed his godfather. Completely.
And Tamara Riddle?
The great Dark Lord released the filthy convict's hand with an expression of mild relief. Internally, however, she was throwing her head back and unleashing a wild, hysterical peal of laughter that only a true demon could comprehend.
She had done it. In this infuriating, system-restricted world where her every dark impulse was chained and punished, she had finally forged a unique, ironclad... sense of security.
Security.
The moment the word surfaced in her mind, a flicker of instinctive, visceral repulsion flared in Tamara's chest.
What a pathetic, weak, Muggle-like concept. In her past life, Lord Voldemort had armed himself with absolute control, overwhelming magical might, and oceans of blood. She had never once admitted that her extreme, tyrannical desire for dominance stemmed from a pathetic, deeply rooted terror of death and the unknown festering within her soul.
But in this moment? Standing in the dusty gloom of a hunting ground that belonged entirely to her?
Tamara did something entirely unmatched. She didn't bother denying the emotion. She savored it.
Oh, she certainly had other options. She could have easily twisted her words, sowing seeds of venomous discord to ensure this stupid Savior treated Sirius Black as a lifelong, mortal enemy.
But she hadn't.
Because in her previous life, she had witnessed firsthand just how nauseatingly unbreakable the bond between these two Gryffindor idiots truly was. If she forcibly drove a wedge between them now, the truth would inevitably claw its way out into the light someday. And when they finally cleared up the misunderstanding, she—the malicious interloper—would draw the full, combined fury of their righteous vengeance. She would become their common enemy.
For a Dark Lord who pursued absolute, flawless control, that kind of petty, low-level sabotage carried far too many hidden dangers. It simply wasn't worth the risk.
Since the threads of fate dictated that she couldn't permanently stop the Savior and his precious godfather from playing out their sickeningly sweet reunion, it was infinitely smarter to steer the current. She would become the architect of their happiness.
Tamara watched the touching, tearful embrace before her with immense, sadistic pleasure.
Not only was the Boy-Who-Lived now deeply, irrevocably indebted to her, but she had achieved something far more brilliant. Sirius Black was no longer just a man. He was an invisible, spiked collar wrapped tightly around the Savior's neck!
If, one day in the distant future, her true identity as Voldemort was exposed... if Potter ever raised his wand with the genuine intent to strike her down...
This bleeding-heart, self-sacrificing Savior would first have to stop and carefully weigh the cost. He would have to decide if killing the Dark Lord was worth personally sending his newly reclaimed, treasured godfather straight to hell!
'This is truly... perfect,' Tamara thought, lowering her eyelashes to conceal the dark, almost pathological euphoria swirling in her irises.
But the curtain hadn't fallen on this spectacular play just yet.
"Harry! We're going to the Forbidden Forest right now!"
Sirius, having just shed the suffocating weight of twelve years of injustice, was practically vibrating with manic excitement. He pushed himself up from the floorboards, a wild, rekindled fire of vengeance blazing in his sunken eyes.
"That treacherous rat definitely hasn't run far!" Sirius barked, his hands balling into fists. "I'm going to catch him! I'm going to drag Peter Pettigrew by his tail straight to Dumbledore, and I'm going to prove my innocence to the entire bloody Wizarding world!"
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