"What is the point in fighting the most evil wizard in the world?"
Sirius asked the question suddenly, his voice raspy and sharp. "I don't
understand it. You-Know-Who... the Dark Lord... he is a butcher. Aside from a
handful of us, the wizarding world is made of nothing but cowards and fools.
"So why would a Seer—forgive for testing you—a wizard whose talent rivals
even rlin's, choose to stand against him? I've never seen a wizard like you,
Green. With your gifts, you could thrive regardless of who sits on the throne.
Why make yourself his enemy? He likely doesn't even know you exist yet."
Outside, the night was silent, save for the distant hooting of owls. The
streetlights in the alley flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the
floor. In the moonlight, the wind whistled through the oaks of Diagon Alley, and
the shop signs creaked on their hinges.
Sean gazed at the gaunt man. Sirius's eyes were burning with a desperate
intensity, as if he were trying to find a anchor in a stormy sea.
"I go to school at Hogwarts," Sean said simply.
Sirius blinked, looking montarily stunned.
"Hogwarts is a good place," Sean added.
"Forgive ..." Sirius furrowed his brow, his mind racing. He hadn't expected
such an understated, almost humble answer.
"Don't you understand, Mr. Black? Does one truly need a mountain of reasons to
oppose the darkest evil in the world?" Sean looked directly into Sirius's eyes.
"Of course you do!" Sirius barked, his gaze drifting back to Regulus's pale
corpse. His eyes were filled with a lifeti of regret and defiance.
Sean fell silent for a long mont.
"I've rarely t a wizard who thinks like this—willing to live or die for the
sake of a school," Sirius murmured to himself. "It's hard to believe. Does
Hogwarts truly possess such magic?"
"Mr. Black," Sean asked softly, "you didn't actually grow up in this house, did
you? Not in your heart."
"Of course not," Sirius said. Despite his confusion, a strange sense of trust
led him to follow Sean to the far end of the hallway.
There, a massive tapestry covered the entire wall. In the center was a portrait
of a woman who, the mont she saw Sirius, began to shriek:
"Filth! Scum! Scoundrel! A blot upon the ancient na! A blood-traitorous stain
upon my house!"
The tapestry was ancient and faded, with patches that looked as though they had
been gnawed by moths. Yet, the gold thread used for the embroidery still glinted
in the dim light, tracing a sprawling family tree that reached back to the
Middle Ages.
At the top, embroidered in ornate letters, were the words:
THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK
TOUJOURS PUR (ALWAYS PURE)
"I'm not on there," Sirius said, ignoring the screaming portrait of his mother.
He looked at the bottom row of the family tree.
"I used to be." Sirius pointed to a small, charred hole in the fabric, looking
like a cigarette burn. "As Kreacher so loves to remind , my dear old mother
blasted off the tree when I ran away. She disowned ."
Sean listened in silence.
"I was sixteen," Sirius said. "I'd had enough."
"You went to the Potters," Sean said.
Sirius looked at the boy, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To this day, I find
it hard to believe such magic truly exists... Harry's grandparents were the
kindest souls I've ever known. They took in. They treated like a second
son."
Sirius's face softened for a fleeting second. "I stayed with them during the
holidays. When I turned seventeen, I got my own place with so gold left to
by my Uncle Alphard—who was also blasted off the tree for helping . But Mr.
and Mrs. Potter always had a place for at their table every Sunday. So... why
do you ask?"
"What if soone wanted to destroy the Potters' ho?" Sean asked.
"I'd kill them!" Sirius snarled, his voice guttural and raw.
Then, he froze. A realization struck him like a thunderbolt.
"Harry... you and Harry... you both..." Sirius fumbled for words, his hands
trembling.
There was only one kind of person who viewed a school as their only true ho:
soone like Harry. Soone who had nowhere else to go.
The night grew still. Sirius searched those brilliant green eyes for any hidden
motive, but he found only a vast, calm ocean of resolve.
"I have seen the end of many stories, sir," Sean said quietly. "Most of them are
not particularly happy."
"Prophecies of the future are rarely wrong..." Sirius started.
"Then let this be the first ti," Sean said with a gentle smile.
Sirius looked at him in awe. There was sothing about Sean Green that inspired
a kind of faith—a belief that the impossible was rely a challenge waiting to
be t.
"My Centaur teacher told that fate is an easily misjudged thing," Sean said,
looking out toward the distant horizon. "The only people with the right to
question fate are those who have already given everything they have, sir."
Outside the window, far beyond Diagon Alley, the mountains stood like silent
sentinels, watching the crowded rooftops of London. People lived in their grey
stone buildings, watching the days fade into night, watching the world slip into
a dark silence.
But then, the stars ca out. They sparkled above, shining with an eternal, cold
light.
"I require your assistance, Mr. Black," Sean said, his silhouette bathed in the
soft, white glow of the crescent moon. "But you know the path ahead is fraught
with peril."
"Of course..." Sirius's throat tightened. "I am at your command."
Nothing was more reassuring than the guidance of a Seer. Nothing was more
exhilarating than following a great and mysterious wizard into a battle against
destiny itself. In that mont, Sirius knew his path was set. He had made his
choice.
Diagon Alley was once again bathed in the long, golden light of a sumr
afternoon.
Wizards everywhere were buzzing about the latest updates in the Sirius Black
case. Harry, anwhile, was erging from the underground vaults of Gringotts,
his pockets clinking with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. He had to use all of his
willpower to keep from spending it all on the first shiny thing he saw.
The Alley was more crowded than ever. Harry looked ahead and saw his friends
waiting for him near the fountain.
Everyone was there—except Sean. Of course, Sean being missing was as common as
Professor Snape taking points from Gryffindor. But they were all happy to wait
for him. They knew that if they ever truly needed him, he would appear.
As Harry passed Flourish and Blotts, he noticed a crowd so large that the line
stretched nearly thirty yards down the street. A massive banner hung across the
storefront, its gold lettering shimring in the sun:
OFFICIAL RELEASE: THE FINAL WORK OF MASTER NEWT SCAMANDER!
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