November arrived with a biting chill. No one could be sure if it was a genuine cold snap or a microclimate created by the Dementors. That first of November was a busy day; Godric had only just returned from escorting Luna Lovegood, and the three of them had immediately convened in the Room of Requirement.
"It's fortunate that you informed Professor Sprout," Godric said, looking at Helga.
"I also informed Professors McGonagall and Flitwick," Helga replied. "Even the most impartial teachers can have their biases. And my memory of Snape is that he blatantly favoured the Slytherins and would dock points from any Gryffindor for the slightest transgression."
"Snape hates me because he and my father detested each other as students," Salazar said with a shrug. "Shall we focus on the task at hand?"
He had unfolded the Marauder's Map, and the three of them studied it with a shared sense of awe. That someone had managed to create such a detailed map of their old home was astonishing. It wasn't perfect, but it was remarkably precise, and it identified every person within the castle walls.
"We don't appear on the map," Helga observed. "Neither does this room."
"It's not as if this place is easy to find, anyway," Godric said. "You still think Sirius Black is in the castle?"
"Supposedly his target is me, and here I am," Salazar stated. Helga looked at him with concern. "That's what Mr Weasley told me, and Professor McGonagall confirmed it. Regardless, it seems very odd that he would attack the Fat Lady's portrait instead of hiding and biding his time. For the psychopath the press makes him out to be, it was a remarkably disorganised act."
"I sent a letter to my grandmother this morning," Godric said. "We should have an answer in a few days. Is Black truly your godfather?"
"He is," Salazar confirmed.
"But then that would mean he can't harm you, and... well, it would mean that the dead walk among the living," Godric trailed off as Salazar's eyes fixed on a specific point on the map.
"We were dead, and now we are alive," Godric mused. "But if Black is your magically sworn godfather..."
"It's not about that, Godric," Helga interrupted, her gaze following Salazar's. "Black was convicted of betraying the Potters based on Dumbledore's testimony and Pettigrew's public 'murder'. But Peter Pettigrew has a lot to answer for. Because according to this map, he's alive." She pointed to a dot moving within the Gryffindor common room.
"It's not just a student with a similar name?" Godric asked.
"Godric, the dot is on Ronald Weasley's bed."
"Should I be concerned by such precision on your part, Salazar?" Helga asked, a teasing glint in her eye.
"Of course not, my dear Helga. You know I only have eyes for one lady."
Godric cleared his throat, a small smile playing on his lips. For a moment, it felt like old times. He felt a surge of impatience, a desire to storm the tower and expose the traitor immediately.
"Don't even think about it," Salazar warned without looking at him. "We need to be cautious."
"I know," Godric sighed.
"We need to identify which form Peter Pettigrew is in, and we need to find a way to corner Sirius Black," Helga said, taking charge. "This calls for a proper operation."
"You lead the way," Godric said, and Salazar nodded in silent agreement.
Helga and Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic to submit their weekly report. As they waited to be called in, Helga reviewed everything she, Godric, and Salazar had pieced together. A week of watching the map had confirmed it: both Black and Pettigrew were Animagi—unregistered, of course. Revealing that information would be a bombshell, but it would also betray her friends and jeopardise their entire mission. Helga knew where her loyalties lay.
"You're not getting away from me this time, Nymphadora," Kingsley said, his tone serious. "We need to talk about that fight between the students."
"Did I do something wrong?" Tonks asked innocently.
"No. Our hands were tied by the Headmaster's orders. But you can't deny that a four-on-two fight between fifth- and third-years was uneven."
"I would have intervened if anyone had been in genuine danger. As it was, I alerted a Head of House. You know I would have preferred to disarm and immobilise the lot of them."
"They're not criminals, Tonks."
"I'm not talking about treating them like criminals. I'm talking about containing a situation. About not allowing a school to become a breeding ground for insecure cowards who bully others to feel powerful."
"That's a matter for the teachers, not for Aurors. It's not within our purview."
"Kingsley, you're right on a technicality, but don't you see this as a societal problem?" Helga argued. "In a few years, those boys will be out in the world. How will they act then?"
"It's a fair point. But there's nothing we can do."
"Perhaps we could... mention the situation in passing?"
"Don't go looking for trouble, Nymphadora. We have to stay in our lane. It's a disgrace, I agree, but that's how it is. What are our orders?"
"Patrol and guard the castle. Protect the students. Capture Black if the opportunity arises," she recited, her voice flat with boredom. "Wait. 'Protect the students' is one of our mandates. Isn't standing by while they're being attacked a breach of that?"
"Don't twist my words," Kingsley chided, though a flicker of admiration showed in his eyes. "You know that's not what it refers to. You sound like a Slytherin when you think like that."
"You've lived with one for many years."
"Yes, your mother was one, wasn't she?"
Helga just smiled. That was true, but her mother wasn't the Slytherin she had been thinking of. She fell silent as their boss, Scrimgeour, finished his meeting. It was time to give their report. Helga knew the protocol: she was to stand silently behind Kingsley and speak only when directly addressed. The one in charge of the investigation always led the debrief.
---
That Saturday in mid-November, the second Quidditch match of the season—Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff—took place. It was the perfect cover. Given his old reputation, it was normal for Neville to skip a match. The Aurors, meanwhile, had been explicitly advised against attending by Dumbledore; Helga suspected the Headmaster was still annoyed that they had acted before he could during the last game. Salazar had a more difficult time slipping away, but he managed it, and the three of them convened in the Room of Requirement.
They spread the Marauder's Map across a large table. As expected, Pettigrew's dot was in the Gryffindor common room, while Black's was skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"We've confirmed it," Godric reported. "Peter Pettigrew is Ronald Weasley's pet rat, Scabbers."
"The Gryffindor common room is empty, except for Hermione, who's stayed behind to study," Salazar noted from the map. "I'll take care of her. You're supposed to be at the match."
"That leaves Black to me," Helga said, her eyes fixed on the moving dot.
"Be careful," Salazar warned. "Just because his guilt is in doubt doesn't mean he isn't dangerous."
"Worried?" Helga asked, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Take the map and the cloak," was his terse reply.
"I might be disappointed if you don't play a trump card," she teased.
"The cloak is more effective," Godric interjected practically.
"Alright," Helga said, rolling up the map. "We'll meet back here when it's done. You two tread carefully as well. Rats are known to carry diseases."
"Huh?" Godric asked, puzzled, while Salazar chuckled.
"We'll see you later."
As they left the Room of Requirement, they separated. Helga headed for the grounds, while Salazar and Godric made for Gryffindor tower. They were intercepted in the corridor by the ghost of the Grey Lady, Helena Ravenclaw. The two friends exchanged a silent look; they knew who she was, and from the ghost's expression, she knew them too.
"My lords," she whispered, her voice filled with ancient melancholy. "It is a joy to see you again. I must speak with you. It is of the utmost importance."
"Let's find an empty classroom," Godric proposed.
"No," Helena insisted. "If I wait any longer, I will lose my nerve. I have been gathering my courage since Lady Hufflepuff returned. And now that you both..."
"Helena," Salazar said, his voice gentle but firm. "What is it?"
"It was my fault," she confessed, her form shimmering with distress. "I told him about it. My mother's diadem."
"Take your time," Godric urged.
They watched as her expression shifted from fear to a pained determination. She began her story—of how she had stolen the diadem, how she had been murdered, and how, centuries later, a charming student named Tom Riddle had coaxed the secret of its hiding place from her.
As she finished, Salazar and Godric exchanged another silent, meaningful glance. The mission to capture a rat was over. A Horcrux was far more important. The freedom of one man was nothing compared to the countless lives that would be lost if they didn't act.
Meanwhile, Helga moved across the grounds, her form hidden by the Invisibility Cloak. She alternated her gaze between the map and the real world, cautiously approaching the dot labelled 'Sirius Black'. When she finally saw him, she had to stifle a laugh. There, at the edge of the forest, was a large, shaggy black dog, the very image of the Grim from Salazar's teacup.
"Mischief managed," she murmured, wiping the map clean. An animal's hearing was far sharper than a human's. She slipped into a thicket of bushes, removed the cloak, and tucked it into an Undetectable Extension Charm on the inside of her jacket. Then, with a casual smile, she strolled towards the Animagus.
When she reached the dog, she stopped and gave him a warm smile. "Hello there, boy. Are you all alone?" She crouched down and pulled a packet of biscuits from her pocket, offering one to him.
The dog watched her, his intelligent eyes filled with a mixture of suspicion and a faint flicker of recognition. He approached cautiously, sniffed the biscuit, and then gently took it from her hand. As he ate, she reached out and stroked his matted fur.
"You're a bit of a state, aren't you? No owner to look after you."
The dog whined softly, then surprised her by placing its front paws on her shoulders and licking her face. She laughed as it tickled. She had to make a choice: try to lure him into the castle, or stun him and carry him. The first was risky; the second, even riskier.
"Want to come with me?" she asked. The dog hesitated. "I promise a warm shower and all the food you can eat."
Suddenly, the roar of the crowd and shouts from the castle grounds reached them. The match was over, and a fight had broken out between Slytherin and Gryffindor students. She knew she should send a Patronus to alert a professor, but that would give Black the chance to escape. Seizing the opportunity while the dog was distracted, she drew her wand from her sleeve.
"Stupefy."
"Sorry," she whispered as he slumped onto her lap. "But it was necessary."
She stood and strode towards the brawling students. The moment they saw her approaching, wand in hand, they scattered. Her reputation, it seemed, preceded her. She threw the Invisibility Cloak over herself and the unconscious dog and headed back to the castle.
Upon entering the Room of Requirement, Helga found Godric and Salazar sitting at a table. Resting between them was Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem. She let the cloak fall to the floor and conjured a large dog bed, gently depositing the Animagus onto it.
"Meet Sirius Black," she announced. "I had to stun him."
"Did he attack you?" Salazar asked, his brow furrowed.
"No. I seized an opportunity. You would have done the same."
"True," he conceded. "And that?" Helga asked, pointing to the diadem. "Where did you find it?"
"Here," Godric said, his voice heavy with sadness. "In the Room of Hidden Things. It's a Horcrux."
"How?"
"Helena stole it," Godric explained. "Riddle tricked her into revealing its location when he was a student here."
"We have to destroy it," Helga said, her voice grim.
"We will," Salazar agreed. "But I want to wait for the next full moon. There's a ritual we can use. It might show us where the other anchors are."
"I'm with you," Godric said.
"Then it's decided," Helga affirmed. "Now, what do we do with the dog?"
"The 'dog' is your godfather," Godric said to Salazar with a smirk.
Helga hid the diadem on a high shelf before turning back to the unconscious Animagus. She drew her wand, and her friends did the same.
"Enervate."
The dog's eyes snapped open. It growled at Helga, then looked at Godric and Salazar, its expression shifting from confusion to a deep, painful longing.
"Why don't you change back so we can talk, cousin?" Helga said calmly. "I guarantee no one in this room will harm you."
"I want to know what happened," Salazar's voice was cold, emotionless. "I hear you're my godfather. I also hear you sold my family to the man who wanted me dead."
The dog looked between the three of them before transforming back into the gaunt, haunted man from the newspapers. Helga immediately conjured magical shackles that bound his hands.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, seeing the look of betrayal in his eyes. "As an Auror, I should be turning you in. But something about your story doesn't add up. So give us a reason not to hand you over to the Dementors."
"Who is he?" Black croaked, looking at Godric. He recognised Harry, a near-perfect copy of James, and Tonks, the daughter of his favourite cousin. But the other boy...
"Neville Longbottom," Godric answered. "Now, start talking. I'm not as patient as they are."
"You don't understand!" Black pleaded, his eyes wild. "I only want the rat!"
"The rat," Salazar said flatly. "Yes, that would solve everything, wouldn't it? If you're not going to be clear, perhaps we should take you to your Auror partner, Tonks. The sentence has already been passed."
"Are you sure, Harry?" Helga asked, playing her part. "The Dementor's Kiss is irreversible."
"Listen to me, please!" Black cried, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't betray your parents! Peter Pettigrew did! You have to believe me, Harry!"
"Very well," Salazar said after a long silence. "Tell us your story."
Helga released the shackles and conjured a tray of food, a change of clean clothes, and a door to a small bathroom. "Take a shower and get changed," she ordered. "Then we'll talk."
"Are you really making Black your pet?" Godric asked mockingly before leaving to give the man some privacy.
Sirius stared after him, then at the fleeting, knowing glance that passed between Salazar and Helga. The situation was utterly surreal. For the first time in twelve years, Sirius Black was completely speechless.