"Let see them again. I beg you... I'm willing to give everything I have,
anything you ask...
"If you ever need soone to be sacrificed for your 'Great Plan,' please...
rember ."
Sirius Black stared intensely at Sean. Sean looked back, wondering why a man
would so easily offer his life to a wizard he barely knew.
Unless... he was already dead in every way that mattered. Perhaps Sirius Black
was already a ghost, just one that still happened to breathe.
Fortunately, Sean knew exactly what it took to reignite a fading soul.
"You still have Peter to deal with," Sean reminded him.
"Oh, naturally. And there's Remus, too. He's working at your bookshop, isn't
he?" Sirius said, a flicker of warmth returning to his voice.
"And what about Harry?" Sean asked slowly.
"Harry... well, he has his aunt..." Sirius hesitated, his gaze drifting.
"Why not ask him yourself?" Sean's voice was soft but firm. "If you don't ask
him, you're stripping him of his right to choose. That isn't a particularly good
decision, sir."
"I..."
Sirius felt the wind leave his sails.
"You're his godfather, aren't you?" Sean added the final weight to the scale.
"Of course... of course I am," Sirius rasped.
"Then do it for Harry. If you clear your na, I suspect he would be more than
happy to live with you."
Sean allowed a small smile. Sirius stood frozen, staring at the wall. In his
mind's eye, he saw a face he knew better than his own—a face currently resting
in a room at the Leaky Cauldron.
"I've seen him. His face is his father's... and his grandfather's, too. But his
eyes... they belong to his mother."
Sirius whispered the words to himself, then turned back to Sean.
"I owe him everything, sir. But I know that if we can't stop the Dark Lord from
rising again... all of this is just talk. What is the point in fighting the most
evil wizard in the world?" Sirius's face set in a look of terrifying resolve.
"It's to save the lives that haven't been lost yet."
Sean watched the man. This gaunt, broken man who had been locked away for twelve
years still held onto a core of courage and goodness that burned like an
inextinguishable fire.
"I suspect we are very much alike, Mr. Black," Sean said. "A wizard like
yourself—a wizard the Dark Lord could never truly ignore—could easily choose to
walk away from this struggle. I can only conclude that you fight for your
conscience and for those who cannot fight for themselves."
Sirius took a step forward, his voice a plea. "Please, sir... let see them.
Just once. If death finds tomorrow, I need to know if I can face them. What
if they won't see ? What if they loathe for what I've done?"
Sean let out a slow sigh. "Every man makes mistakes, Mr. Black. But I must warn
you: for so, the World Behind the Veil is not always a pleasant place."
"I don't care if it's the heart of a furnace," Sirius said, his eyes bright.
"Then I wish you a very good night."
Sean's words were sincere. Suddenly, Will the Pukwudgie hopped out of the
book-shaped pendant hanging from Sean's neck. The creature gave Sirius a look of
mild disdain before seizing Sean's hand and Apparating them both away.
Sirius wasn't offended. Instead, a surge of wild, manic joy flooded his mind. He
turned toward the drawing room and began clearing out the glass-fronted
cabinets.
He needed to focus. He needed to work until he was too exhausted to think. He
had to drain every ounce of energy from his body so that sleep would co
easily.
He was preparing for a dream—or a journey into hell.
As he worked, a silver snuffbox snapped shut on his hand. Within seconds, his
skin began to harden into a crusty, brown shell, looking as though he were
wearing a rough stone glove.
"Oh, it's nothing, nothing at all," he chuckled to himself, looking at his
petrified hand with genuine amusent. He tapped it with his wand, and the skin
returned to normal. "Wartcap powder. Should've known."
He tossed the snuffbox into a heavy-duty trash bag and kept going.
He found a nest of Doxies and swatted them aside with a heavy volu titled
Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. He found a heavy, unopenable
locket—which he threw into the pile of junk—and a dusty box containing a dal
of Magical rit, First Class, awarded to his grandfather for "services to the
Ministry."
"aning he gave them a mountain of gold," Sirius humd to himself, tossing the
dal after the snuffbox.
Finally, he found a music box. When he wound it, it began to play a faint,
tinkling, slightly sinister lody. Sirius felt his limbs grow heavy and weak.
His eyelids fluttered.
Through the haze of his mind, he realized what it was, but he didn't reach for a
counter-charm. He let the music take him. He slumped to the floor, the lody
fading into the distance.
Mist. Swirling, white mist.
Sirius woke up in a world of pure, blinding white. His first instinct was to
punch himself hard in the arm.
"Bloody rlin, that hurts!" he yelled, grinning like an idiot.
He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Standing in the center of the mist
was a cat, as black as the midnight sky and twice as deep. Its poise and bearing
were exactly as Newt Scamander had described in his book.
"Dear Mr. Black Cat... or should I say, my respected and divine sir." Sirius
offered a deep, reverent bow.
"Good evening, Mr. Black," the cat said.
Sirius watched as swirling clouds of mist began to drift toward him like curious
spirits. The cat leaped forward, landing on a cluster of mist and batting it
away before it could touch Sirius.
"What... what do I do? How do I..." Sirius looked around at the brilliant,
shifting fog. This wasn't like any mist he'd seen in London. It wasn't that the
world was hidden by vapor; it was that the vapor hadn't yet decided what part of
the world it wanted to beco.
The ground beneath his feet was white—not hot, not cold, just a flat, empty
existence.
"I require your mories, sir," the black cat said, its ears twitching.
"mories? Oh... of course." Sirius looked lost until he saw the cat use the
mist to shape a perfect, shimring Pensieve.
"Is such a thing even possible...?" Sirius breathed. In this place, he felt like
a first-year student seeing magic for the very first ti.
But the fear left him quickly. He smiled and stepped toward the black cat and
the swirling silver basin.
On this night, in a world he never could have imagined, a dream was the secret
passage back to the past.
☆☆☆
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