A few moments passed before it took effect. Gradually, Sirius' breathing slowed, and the trembling in his limbs eased. His muttering stopped, and though he still refused to turn around, still curled into himself, his body relaxed.
Alex let out a small breath of relief. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
Now came the harder part: getting Sirius to talk.
Alex could tell he had to be careful. Bringing up James and Lily too soon, or even mentioning Peter or Remus, would only send Sirius spiraling again. No, he needed to start somewhere softer, somewhere safe. Something buried deep in memory, but warm enough to reach through the fog of madness.
"Sirius," Alex said gently. "Do you remember this?"
He raised his hand again, and with a flick of his wand, conjured a shining silver tray. On it sat a generous portion of roasted lamb chops, charred just right on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside, and drenched in a thick, glistening pepper sauce. The smell alone filled the air, rich and mouthwatering.
It was the same dish Alex had cooked during his first Christmas at Sirius' house. He had been a first-year back then, barely tall enough to reach the stove properly, but he'd insisted on cooking a holiday meal. It had been a chaotic, slightly burned mess of a dinner, but to Sirius, it had instantly become his favorite dish.
Though truthfully, Sirius had a habit of declaring every new dish Alex made his favorite, that particular memory had always stood out. That night had meant something. And Alex had held onto that memory, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it might mean something to Sirius too.
From the sidelines, still hidden by the Disillusionment Charm, Minister Bagnold blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected this.
When Alex conjured the food, she couldn't quite tell what he was playing at. But as the scent reached her, her stomach betrayed her with a soft growl, and she had to resist the sudden urge to taste it herself. Whatever this tactic was… it smelled like a really good one.
Alex placed the iron plate right in front of the cell, using a subtle bit of magic to waft the mouthwatering scent of the lamb chops toward Sirius.
Inside the dim, cold cell, Sirius twitched. The familiar but long-lost smell drifted into his nose, and his body reacted before his mind did. Slowly, he lifted his head from where it had been buried in his arms. His nose twitched again, this time more purposefully, and his tired eyes glanced toward the cell door.
Azkaban had worn him down. For years, he had barely eaten enough to survive, never felt warm, never tasted anything close to real food. Now, suddenly, his favorite dish, lamb chops, still hot, was right there, only a few feet away. At first, he tried to resist. He didn't want to fall for it, didn't want to care. But instincts were stronger than pride, and hunger was a beast of its own.
"Sirius," Alex said gently, "your favorite lamb chops, still hot. Don't you want a bite?"
Hearing his name, Sirius flinched and instinctively tried to pull his head back again, retreating deeper into the shadows.
Seeing this, Alex pushed the plate closer to the bars. "Relax, I'm not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to catch up. Look, I'll slide the plate in. Eat it or don't, it's up to you."
With a casual wave of his fingers, Alex guided the plate through the bars using his magic. The lamb chops hovered upright, not a drop of juice spilling, and he carefully set them down in the center of the cell.
Sirius eyed the plate warily at first, shrinking away from it, but his gaze kept drifting back to it. The aroma was too much, rich, savory, and utterly nostalgic.
Alex didn't say another word. He simply squatted by the cell, silent, patient, watching.
Finally, Sirius gave in. He crawled forward, snatched one of the chops, and stuffed it into his mouth. The moment the flavor hit his tongue, something inside him snapped, the numbness broke.
Memories came rushing back as fast as his hunger took over, and he began devouring the food like a starving man, which he was. Still, he avoided Alex's eyes, saying nothing, not even a glance of acknowledgment. After just a minute, he choked.
"Slow down," Alex muttered under his breath, concerned. He poured a full glass of butterbeer and approached the bars again. This time, he didn't use magic, he held the glass out with his hand, offering it directly.
Sirius, gasping and trying to clear his throat, didn't stop to think. There had been no taunts, no questions, no threats, just food and now a drink. So he crawled to the front of the cell on hands and knees, reaching out with one shaky hand to take it.
Just as his fingers closed around the glass, Alex's other hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
Startled, Sirius panicked. The butterbeer fell and shattered on the floor, the liquid spreading over the grimy stone. He yanked and twisted, trying to pull away from Alex's grip, heart pounding. "Black!" Alex barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
The name rang out through the dungeon, and at that distance, Sirius couldn't ignore it. His struggle slowed. His head snapped up, eyes locking with Alex's for the first time.
The moment hung in the air.
Alex stared at him, tired, frustrated, angry. Sirius met his gaze, and all the strength seemed to drain out of him. His expression twisted in pain, guilt flickering across his face as he looked away again, eyes darting to the floor.
"Why did you run?" Alex asked, his voice low and tense. With a quick pull, he drew Sirius closer, tugging his arm through the bars until his face was pressed against them. "You could've trusted me. You should've trusted me."
"Don't force me, Alex. I'm guilty," Sirius muttered hoarsely, his voice trembling with emotion. "I killed James and Lily. I know what you're trying to do, but Azkaban is where I belong. It's the only way I can pay for my sins." He realized there was no breaking free from Alex's grip, so he clutched tightly to the prison bars, staring at him with pleading eyes.
Alex let out a cold chuckle, his expression hardening. "So you finally decide to speak like a normal person. I was starting to think you'd gone completely brain-dead in this place." His voice dripped with sarcasm before shifting abruptly. "So what now? You're confessing?"
Then his tone darkened, growing sharper with every word. "You said you killed the Potters. That means you betrayed them. You told the Dark Lord where they were hiding. You used the trust of James, Lily, me… even the Order. You were working for the Death Eaters all along, weren't you?"