Children always admire heroes, especially someone like Sirius Black—a dark hero burdened with secrets and the quest to clear his name—who's particularly popular among them. As a result, shops like Honeydukes in Hogsmeade specifically sought out Sirius to endorse their products.
Though Sirius always grumbled that it was far too childish or some such nonsense, Harry couldn't help but notice he seemed to secretly enjoy signing the contracts.
"So, it's all over just like that?"
Sitting by the fireplace in the office, with the howling wind and snow outside mingling with the crackling of burning logs, Remus Lupin's expression seemed distant, almost dazed.
"What's wrong, my dear Moony?" Sirius, sprawled comfortably across the sofa, shifted to a more relaxed position. "Not a fan?"
"No, it's not that I don't like it—it's just that things have changed so quickly, I can hardly believe it," Remus said, shaking his head. He stretched out his hand, staring at the wrinkles etched across his palm. "All of a sudden, I have a stable job. You, who spent all those years in Azkaban, who I cursed countless times, turned out to be innocent. Peter was the traitor—and we've already sent him to Azkaban ourselves."
"Suddenly, everything's just… good," Remus said with a bitter smile. "Maybe I'm too used to the wandering life. This sudden turn to a good life feels strange… Being able to sit peacefully with old friends again is truly wonderful."
"That's how a story should end, Remus," Sirius said, crossing his legs with a cheeky grin. "Like in those books—bad guys get punished, justice is served, and the good guys live happily ever after. That's how it's supposed to be."
"Oh, I don't think either of us qualifies as a prince or princess, so that's a bit different from fairy tales," Remus said with a touch of humor.
"Ha! Prince or princess?" Sirius burst into laughter. "Didn't know you still dreamed like that. We're just a couple of dried-up old men—well, I'm still dashing, mind you, a real hit with the ladies."
"You're as shameless as ever, Sirius," Remus retorted. "Careful now. If Harry finds out you've been flirting with the castle's female students, he'll probably break your legs… and he'd be dead serious about it."
"Hey! You furry scoundrel, what kind of man do you take me for?" Sirius shot back, though his voice carried a hint of guilt. "I'm not like that, er—let's drop it. I'll admit life's pretty good right now, though it'd be even better if I didn't have to see Snape's sour face all the time."
"No chance of that," Remus sighed. "Without Snape brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, I wouldn't even be able to stay near the castle… He's achieved far more than we have, hasn't he?"
"Don't you dare speak well of him, Remus. My fists will start itching," Sirius warned. "And that Wolfsbane Potion? Merlin's beard, I'd bet Snivellus tosses his filthy socks into the cauldron while brewing it. The smell—ugh! Just thinking about it makes me want to gag!"
When he said "Snivellus," Sirius lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing nervously over his shoulder to check if Harry was behind him.
"If there were really dirty socks in the potion, it'd turn into poison," Remus said with a hint of exasperation. "I'm certain Snape wouldn't kill me, but he's clearly not going out of his way to make it pleasant either. Not that I mind too much—it's what we owe him. I'm content with the life we have now."
Unlike Sirius, who still carried some of the brash confidence of their school days, Remus, weathered by years of hardship and prejudice, had grown more pragmatic, more accepting of the way things were.
He saw things clearly.
"…I can't believe you're just okay with it. Decades ago, you would've—"
"Harry?" Remus interrupted Sirius, tilting his head toward the staircase leading to the second floor. "You done up there?"
Without missing a beat, Sirius clamped his mouth shut and sat upright on the sofa, as if he hadn't been saying anything at all, the picture of innocence.
"More or less," Harry said, descending the stairs in a thick leather coat. "Time to put an end to things."
"An end?" Sirius scratched his head. "To what?"
"Peter's business, of course," Harry said with a smile. "Get up, dress warmly. Where we're going, it's probably going to be cold."
"Peter's business?" Sirius couldn't help but blurt out. "That traitor's already been sent to Azkaban, hasn't he? The trial's over."
"The trial's far from over," Harry said, shaking his head.
No matter how much Sirius pressed, Harry refused to elaborate, only urging them to change into warmer clothes and head out together.
Exchanging bewildered glances, neither Sirius nor Remus could shake the strange premonition stirring in their hearts, though Harry hadn't revealed anything specific.
That feeling grew stronger when Harry summoned Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. The three of them grabbed hold of Fawkes' tail feathers, and with a sudden burst of flame that flared and vanished, they endured a disorienting journey—not much better than Apparition—before their feet touched solid ground again.
The briny, fishy tang of sea air hit them, accompanied by the rhythmic crash of waves. Sirius shuddered, the familiar melody etched into his memory from twelve years of survival. The overcast sky, the rancid air—and in the distance, that castle-like structure.
"A-Azkaban?!" Sirius yelped, stunned.
He could never have imagined that Harry's destination would be this place—not when, just minutes ago, he'd sworn to Remus he'd never set foot in Azkaban again.
They stood at the edge of the island's dock, where Azkaban loomed. In the distance, they could see the guards' living quarters, lights glowing faintly within.
"This—this is illegal trespassing!" Sirius hissed, instinctively lowering his voice, his eyes practically bulging. "Dumbledore's phoenix can teleport straight into Azkaban?! No, that's not the point—Harry! We don't have any Aurors with us. If we're caught, we're done for!"
"You're here, Harry."
A voice interrupted, snapping Sirius—convinced his godson was committing a crime—and the equally shocked Remus back to reality. They both recognized that voice.
"Malfoy?!" Sirius spat the name with disgust as he realized who it was.
"Don't be so rude, Sirius. I'm still your brother-in-law, after all," Lucius Malfoy said with a cold smirk. "I went to great lengths to help with your case."
"Ha! You—"
"He's right, Sirius," Harry cut in calmly. "Lucius did help you a lot, convincing plenty of Wizengamot members."
Sirius' expression looked as if he'd just scooped up a handful of dung and shoved it in his mouth.
"…What's going on, Harry?" Remus, who had just been marveling at how fast the world was changing, now felt it was spinning even faster than he could process.
Why did Harry seem so familiar with Lucius Malfoy?
What had they been up to?
Remus had thought he'd come to understand Harry to some extent during their time together, but now he realized he didn't know his old friend's son at all.
"Don't be so hostile, Sirius," Lucius said, dropping his usual antagonistic demeanor and shaking his head slightly. "You're Harry's godfather, and I'm his uncle. We're family."
Sirius: "…"
His expression now looked like he'd pulled that dung out of his mouth only to shove it back in.
Lucius' words only made things worse. In Sirius' mind, the Malfoys were staunch Voldemort supporters, pure-blood elitists, and utterly deplorable—people he'd never associate with.
"Let's move on," Harry said, clearly unwilling to let the adults dredge up old grudges. "Where is he?"
"Right here," Lucius said, stepping aside and calling out, "Diaz?"
"Coming, Mr. Malfoy!"
Two figures emerged from a small shack near the dock, dragging a short, stout man between them—Peter Pettigrew, already tried, convicted, and delivered to Azkaban.
"No, no, no, no!" Whatever Lucius had said to him earlier, Peter began thrashing wildly the moment he saw the group outside, only calming slightly after Baldwin delivered a sharp blow to the back of his head.
"Sorry, this despicable rat's been putting up quite a fight," Diaz said, catching his breath as they dragged Peter forward. "But don't worry, he's not going anywhere."
"Thanks, and good to see you both, Diaz, Baldwin," Harry said, shaking their hands with a smile. "I really appreciate your help."
As he spoke, Harry slipped two small pouches into their hands during the handshake, the clink of Galleons unmistakable.
"Oh, Harry, you didn't have to," Diaz said, feeling the weight of the pouch. "We all despise this guy, this traitor. Honestly, even without you and Mr. Malfoy asking, we'd have made sure he got what he deserved in here."
Diaz tried to hand the pouch back, but Harry refused.
"No matter what, you're taking a risk for me," Harry insisted. "Keep it, as a gift from a friend."
"…Alright," Baldwin said with a shrug. "If you insist, Harry, we wish you a satisfying revenge. Don't worry about a thing—play as you like. Prisoners dying in Azkaban is nothing unusual. We'll bury him in the graveyard over there."
"Or toss him into the sea to feed the fish, if that's what makes you happy," Diaz added with a grin. "We'll head off now."
"Great, thanks."
Harry watched as the two Aurors walked away, weighing their pouches, leaving it to them to deal with their colleagues. That wasn't his concern—it wouldn't be hard for them to handle.
The more pressing matter was Peter Pettigrew.
"Wait, Harry, what the hell is going on?!" Sirius demanded, unable to hold back any longer.
"It's simple," Lucius said, glancing at his less-than-sharp relative with a sigh. "I'm working for Harry. I bribed Ministry officials to look the other way regarding Peter's death, and I arranged this chance for you to take your revenge."
Sirius: "…"
Everything Lucius said made sense… mostly. But that was exactly why Sirius' head was spinning even more.
"Why?" Sirius couldn't help but ask. "Aren't the Malfoys—I mean—"
"Death Eaters?" Lucius snorted. "That's in the past. Now, I serve only Harry."
As he spoke, Lucius gave Harry a respectful bow, a gesture so humble it left Sirius and Remus reeling.
"That's about the gist of it," Harry confirmed. "Lucius works for me now. You both know about Voldemort's Horcruxes. Lucius is in charge of contacting the pure-blood families, posing as one of their own to gather information about the Horcruxes. If any piece of Voldemort's soul is revived, we'll know immediately and act accordingly."
"I brought you here to meet so you don't accidentally start a fight if you run into each other outside," Harry continued. "After we leave, you'll need to keep up the pretense of being enemies. Don't mess this up."
"I understand, my lord," Lucius said respectfully, ignoring Sirius' gobsmacked expression.
"Enough about that," Harry said, turning to Peter Pettigrew, who was cowering on the ground. "This is what I promised you, Sirius. A traitor's sins can only be repaid in blood."
Sirius stared at Harry, his godson's words sinking in—an urging toward killing.
He had dreamed countless times of driving a blade through Peter's heart. Yet now that the moment was here, he felt a strange hesitation—not out of fear of killing; anyone who'd lived through the Wizarding War had blood on their hands. What unsettled Sirius was how calmly Harry faced death.
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