"A mask?" Blake repeated, thoughtfully.
He had indeed considered giving the Fourth Natural Disaster a cover—an ordinary identity that hid its true face. But he'd never decided what it should be. And more importantly, there weren't many people he could trust to run it.
Old Lepp had experience, but Blake needed him elsewhere. Agatha and the others… well, infiltration, trade, or negotiation weren't their strength.
Now Ariana had raised it herself. Though she looked young, Ariana had decades of experience—at least as many years as Dumbledore, if not more. And unlike him, she had actually run businesses. What businesses, she wouldn't say, but Blake knew enough to call her a professional.
Blake didn't need to think long.
"Then... what sort of 'skin' do you have in mind?" he asked.
Ariana paused, eyes flickering to the wizards nearby—ex‑followers of Wicca now helping build houses under Old Lepp's watch.
"How about starting a security company?" she suggested. "I've seen plenty in the Muggle world over the years. Their top agents have real combat skills—some even stronger than army regulars. And look at us… who do we have the most of right now?"
Blake glanced at the hardened wizards stacking timber, scarred faces half hidden under cloaks.
"...True," Blake admitted. "Most of the people I picked before were fighters."
He scratched his hair, a bit embarrassed. Maybe I was too hasty… only picking warriors, and none with skills in business or stealth.
Ariana seemed to sense his thoughts.
"Then open a company that fits them," she said, gently but firmly. "And don't worry whether it makes money. That's not why it exists, right?"
"That's true…" Blake rubbed his chin. "But actually, it might make money too."
He thought back to his trip with Snape to hunt dark wizards. The wealthy wizards they'd saved had all been desperate, willing to pay handsomely for protection.
Clearly, the wizarding world wasn't as safe as people liked to believe. And no one had built a real security business before. There might actually be a market.
The more Blake considered it, the brighter his eyes grew.
"It could work," he said at last. "Besides guarding, they could take Ministry bounty commissions—white and black alike."
White bounty hunters accepted Ministry contracts for legitimate work. Black bounty hunters worked outside the law, hired in secret to do what Aurors couldn't.
"Exactly," Ariana nodded. "If you agree, I'll get it started."
"You have my blessing," Blake grinned. "Oh—about the company name. Should it be under your name?"
"It'd make things easier," Ariana admitted. "Dumbledore and the others wouldn't object if I ran a small business. They might even be glad to see me doing something."
"Fair enough," Blake agreed. "At least it gives you a reason to move around freely. And if you need startup money, ask Old Lepp. We've got plenty."
Owning shares in the Magical Zoo and nearby shops had made Blake richer than he'd ever imagined.
Ariana smiled softly.
"Actually, it's ready," she confessed. "I started the process before even speaking to you. I went to the Ministry, got the papers stamped—it's all official now."
Blake raised an eyebrow, half amused, half impressed.
"So you came here just to tell me it's done?"
"The Ministry takes ages with paperwork," Ariana explained. "So I thought—why wait for your answer? I knew you'd say yes."
Blake laughed. She really does know me.
"That makes sense," he agreed. "I hate waiting."
He would never have dared use Grindelwald's network to fast‑track this—Grindelwald or Dumbledore might find out. And that would ruin everything.
"So, you just went through the normal process?" Blake asked.
"Well… yes. But clerks—Muggle or wizard—love money," Ariana said lightly. "A little gold, and suddenly your papers move faster than anyone else's."
She stood up, brushing dust from her cloak.
"The only thing left is to 'recruit' staff," she added with a small grin. Meaning: move all Fourth Natural Disaster members onto the company roster, then hire a few oblivious wizards to look respectable.
"Fine by me," Blake said, waving a hand. "Talk to Old Lepp about what you need."
"Leave it to me," Ariana promised. "Don't worry."
Blake's mood lifted. That was the advantage of being in charge: you could delegate to people you trusted.
And Ariana was deeply trusted. She had the Ring of Power, had handed over an entire intelligence network, and had a mind sharper than most. If Blake couldn't trust her… who could he trust?
He checked his pocket watch.
"I've got class soon," he sighed, getting to his feet. "One last thing, Aunt Ariana… next time you Apparate right next to me, maybe give me a heads‑up? I might be… er… bathing."
Ariana chuckled.
"Yes, yes. How many times have you said that now?"
"Just once," Blake pointed out.
"Oh… right. You're only saying it for the first time now," she murmured, half to herself.
Blake spread his hands.
"Talking to you feels odd… because you know two versions of me."
"Well, go on," she urged. "Don't let my brother catch you skipping class."
As she spoke, Ariana turned back toward Old Lepp, already giving suggestions on design and layout.
After Charms class that afternoon, Blake left quickly. Professor Flitwick had been growing fond of keeping him behind to brainstorm new spells.
Not because of the supreme magic Blake had once displayed, but because Professor Kettleburn had let slip that the new limb‑regrowth spell from St. Mungo's was actually Blake's invention.
Delighted, Flitwick had begun dragging him into long conversations on charm theory.
And though Blake enjoyed it at first, it had become… exhausting.
Today, he slipped out the classroom door—only to see Professor McGonagall waiting.
She gestured discreetly. Blake followed her to a quiet hallway.
Looking around carefully to make sure no one overheard, McGonagall spoke.
"Padfoot wants to see you."
It was code, of course. Outside, they always called Sirius by his Animagus nickname.
"What does he want with me?" Blake asked, surprised. "Shouldn't he be talking to Harry?"
Professor McGonagall shook her head.
"Go see him. He's already spoken to Harry."
Before Blake could argue further, he glimpsed Professor Flitwick coming down the hall, eyes darting about hopefully.
"Alright, I'm going now," Blake blurted, and vanished on the spot.
McGonagall let out a small sigh at the disappearing figure.
"Such a convenient talent," she murmured.
Professor Flitwick arrived, slightly out of breath.
"Minerva, have you seen Blake? I wanted to ask about my new charm theory…"
McGonagall spoke gently.
"Filius, perhaps give him a few days before trying again."
Flitwick paused, reflecting. Slowly, understanding dawned.
"Oh… yes, I suppose I've been over‑enthusiastic," he admitted. "But that boy is brilliant. Every time we talk, I get new ideas. Still… I should apologize."
"You're just impatient," McGonagall reassured him. "Blake likely enjoys your conversations—but he has so much else on his shoulders…"
She trailed off, glancing toward the window.
"Albus expects so much from him. It's as though he was born to complete a certain mission… and none of us truly knows what burdens he carries."
Meanwhile, Sirius Black waited in the Shrieking Shack.
He felt calmer these days. A deep talk with Dumbledore had helped settle old wounds, and now he thought about what to say to Blake—the boy who'd played a part in his redemption.
There was a knock.
"Come in," Sirius called, unconcerned. Whoever made it past the traps was certainly an ally.
Blake stepped in.
"Good day, Sirius," Blake greeted him politely. "You look much better than before. Though… it does feel odd calling you Sirius."
Sirius laughed.
"Then do it anyway. 'Mr. Black' makes me feel ancient."
Blake smiled, pulling over a chair.
"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me?"
Sirius nodded.
"Yes. To thank you, face to face. Really, I should've come to find you—but I can't exactly walk around freely these days."
He gestured at himself. After his Animagus form had been exposed, even transforming into Padfoot wouldn't let him travel unnoticed.
"Any wizard would've helped," Blake shrugged modestly.
"No," Sirius said firmly. "Most would've tried to claim the Ministry's bounty. But you helped."
"Maybe because I'm not short of money," Blake said, scratching his head.
Sirius chuckled.
"Maybe. But still—you helped. And if you ever need my help, you need only ask."
"I will," Blake promised. More allies never hurt.
"By the way," Sirius said, leaning forward, "how did you even find me that night? I'd hidden well."
"Ah… I have a map," Blake admitted. "Shows everyone in Hogwarts. Even secret passages."
Sirius blinked, then burst out laughing.
"The Marauder's Map! Where on earth did you get that? It was ours, you know… James, Remus, Peter and me."