"Return and Shadows"
Sally stepped through the door of her house, her face marked by exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes barely concealed after her first day on mission with the knights.
At first, she hadn't truly understood what her task was. Only after several hours did she finally grasp the exact reason: for example, when Luther, the driver of the automobile, suddenly stopped following the route traced on the map. As they neared the village, the man turned the wheel in another direction, moving away as if by instinct, unable to control his hands. It was clearly an antimuggle barrier, so powerful that even trained knights could hardly withstand it.
Basically, her role was reduced to guiding them so they wouldn't get lost among the confusing enchantments that repelled non-magical people. A simple job in theory… but exhausting in practice.
The journey had been even more tiring because Sally still hadn't learned to perform Side-Along Apparition for groups. Transporting herself alone was difficult, but carrying several people with her was another level of complexity. They had no Portkeys to reach the villages, and the Floo Network, though technically an option, was dangerous in an unknown place: appearing surrounded by strangers in the wrong location was simply not viable.
In the end, the knights preferred to advance in the military car. Not that the other teams fared much better: the wizards moving in parallel seemed to suffer the same problems. Even one of them, Gilderoy Lockhart—so pompous and self-assured—admitted with embarrassment that he didn't even know how to fly a broom. At that rate, the mission would take much longer than expected.
They had barely managed to cover two villages, interviewing a few local wizards who at first refused to share any information… until they were "persuaded" with a few blows. And to make matters worse, even then, they had very little useful information.
With a deep sigh, Sally let herself sink into the sofa, the softness of the cushions stealing away a fraction of the day's weight. The house was far too quiet. Too quiet. Normally, the moment she crossed the threshold, Harry and Percy would come running at full speed, shouting her name as though they hadn't seen her in weeks.
That absence made her think they had surely gone out for a walk with Morgana.
Just then, the front door burst open, and the uproar of small footsteps filled the entrance.
Sally straightened up with a tired smile, ready to welcome them… but froze at the sight.
Harry entered first, dressed like a little wizard. He wore a huge red hat, slightly lopsided, and a matching robe that was far too long—long enough that his feet would trip if he wasn't careful. In his hand, he held a tiny staff, made to his measure, with a gem gleaming at its tip.
Percy followed him, clad in light leather armor that looked straight out of a medieval tale. At his belt hung a dagger with a gem glowing an orange light, as if fire itself lived inside it. A miniature adventurer.
And behind them, of course, came Mor, smiling as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
The children, radiant, dashed toward their mother.
"Mum!" they shouted in unison, leaping onto her.
Sally caught them in her arms, lifting them off the floor with strength, closing her eyes for a brief moment to recharge her energy. Nothing healed her more than having them in her embrace. When she let them go, she looked them up and down, both confused and amused.
"Did you go to some sort of convention or something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We went on an adventure!" Percy said, his face split by a grin that nearly reached his ears.
"We went looking for our own mission," added Harry with solemn pride, as if he were reporting an achievement to an important council.
Sally, incredulous, lifted her gaze toward Mor, waiting for an explanation.
Mor, keeping her composure, smoothly diverted the topic, fully aware of how worried Sally would become if she knew her sons had been out hunting monsters as "training."
"And you? How was your mission?" she asked lightly.
Sally looked at her with suspicion, but replied wearily: "More exhausting than I expected. We just visited a few places and asked questions, nothing relevant."
Meanwhile, Harry and Percy sat on the floor and began emptying a small enchanted bag.
"Look, Mum! We brought materials that Aunt Mor said could be useful for potions," Harry announced, handing her a vial filled with bubbling green liquid, another packed with red pustules, and several small bloodstained teeth.
Sally stared at the vials, her expression petrified, then slowly turned her head toward Mor, her serious gaze saying more than a thousand words.
Mor shrugged carelessly, waved her hand, and said in a nonchalant voice: "I just took them to catch a few insects, don't worry."
Sally blinked, still not softening her stern look.
"And the clothes?" she asked, pointing at her children from head to toe.
"A gift," Mor replied, lowering her voice a little. "Though only the hat and the dagger are special. The rest… improvised. I doubt they had many things made for children, so they adapted what was available. Maybe they'll have something better prepared for their next adventures. You know… a grandmother spoiling her grandchildren far too much." She added the last part in a whisper.
She paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly to add in an even lower tone: "Though not all the gifts seem to come from her." Her eyes flicked discreetly toward Percy's dagger, recognizing what material it was made of—or at least part of it. For if it had been entirely forged from the substance she suspected, even Percy would have been harmed by touching it. Only the children of that man could handle such a material with ease.
Sally understood the insinuation immediately and let out a long sigh. Still, as she watched her children happily sorting through the "loot" of their adventure on the carpet, she couldn't help but smile with resignation.
…
Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic, the corridors lit by crystals shone with a cold brilliance. Among that glow walked a man with long, untamed hair and a certain aristocratic air. His face was thin and elegant, with fine features that could have belonged in a family portrait of the House of Black, and in his gray eyes lived a melancholy that appeared and vanished like the flicker of a storm.
His clothes were elegant, though outdated, as if he had been frozen in time. And yet, the aura surrounding him was not noble or serene, but something dangerous: wild, rebellious, untamed. Sirius Black walked the corridors with a tired, irritated expression, like a man who had lost too much in life and was not willing to lose more.
When he reached a door, he didn't bother to knock. He pushed it open.
Inside, a scarred man didn't even raise his head from the documents he was reviewing. Only his magical eye spun around and focused on Sirius with lethal precision. The auror's other hand already rested on his staff, prepared to strike at the first sign of intrusion.
"Didn't they teach you to knock, Black?" growled Mad-Eye Moody, his harsh voice sounding like a threat in itself.
Sirius arched an eyebrow, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "I was taught many things when I was young… but doors? That part I must have forgotten. I was never good at memorizing absurd traditions, least of all the obsession with pure blood."
With a careless gesture, he advanced to the desk and dropped a set of documents in front of him. "Amelia asked me to give you this. I ran into her a moment ago."
Moody glanced at the papers, nodded briefly, then lifted his human eye toward Sirius, its severity unwavering.
"Say it straight. I'm busy. I've got knights tracking magical villages and a possible conflict about to erupt."
Sirius met his stare, unflinching. "You went to see him, didn't you? How is he?"
The auror frowned, uneasy. "Alive," he answered brusquely.
That simple "alive" was enough to silence Sirius for a few seconds, as though he were chewing on an emotion too heavy to swallow. At last, he sighed, and his gray eyes filled with a melancholy that stripped away his mask of arrogance.
"Strange. From you, I expected you'd have gone running the moment you were freed," Moody said, eyeing him with suspicion, as if trying to confirm this man was truly Sirius.
Sirius looked away, fists clenched. "Do you think I don't want to?" His voice cracked between anger and grief. "I still don't understand why Dumbledore won't let me see him. I'm grateful—yes, for helping me get out, for giving me a little air this week. But I want to see him. I want to see James and Lily's son. My godson."
His voice sank, nearly strangled by depression.
Moody opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the magical eye spun toward the door. A familiar voice drifted in.
"I'm sorry you have to suffer, Sirius… but you just need to endure a little longer."
Dumbledore entered the office with his usual calm stride, and Moody let out a growl. "Does no one know how to knock on a bloody door?"
Sirius, not taking his eyes off the headmaster, asked bluntly: "But why?"
"Because the wizarding world is far more fragile than it appears," Dumbledore replied with his unshakable calm. "Chaos rules in the shadows. From the moment you were freed, you've been followed. You know that, don't you? But they aren't watching you… they're waiting for you to approach the Boy Who Lived. I thought you would have realized it."
Sirius's face hardened. Of course he had realized it. He had felt the stares, the footsteps behind his own, the shadows lingering in corners. But accepting that it was the reason he couldn't be near Harry was too painful.
Dumbledore went on: "And then, there is that other existence. Something released… something even Lukefort doesn't fully understand. A threat bent on vengeance and destruction. The world is not ready, Sirius. It's been barely five years since Voldemort's fall, and his followers are still moving through the dark. Until they accept he is gone, Harry cannot be truly free. For now, he is with his relatives, protected by the blood ward. No one can harm him. No one can find him."
The headmaster's voice softened when he saw the desperation in Sirius's eyes.
"Just wait a little longer. Two weeks, perhaps a month at most. I will help you meet Harry, and that meeting will be safe. Perhaps even the knights chasing what was stolen may prove more useful than we imagine."
Sirius clenched his jaw, but a spark of hope flickered in his gaze.
"Are you certain?"
"Nothing is certain," Dumbledore admitted, "but the movements in the shadows might work in your favor. You could use the chaos to get close and finally stand before him."
Sirius nodded, his voice firm despite the emotion choking him: "I've waited five years. I can wait one or two more weeks."
"Then use this time to recover, both body and mind. Harry deserves to meet his godfather as he should," Dumbledore added.
Sirius looked at him and nodded in silence. Then, in a low voice, he asked: "Did you find Remus?"
Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "No. The last we heard, he had left the country. The war left him alone… he lost everyone in a single day. And with his condition, he fears being near his friends' son. You know his heart better than I do."
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. A bitter smile curved his lips. "He rejected every letter, ran from everything and everyone. He always punished himself for what he was… it took so much for him to finally join us."
"So, is that what this meeting in my office is for? To weep over the past?" Moody grumbled, exasperated, slamming the desk.
Dumbledore let out a light chuckle. "Not exactly. I came to give you information, something that may help the knights—and you." He then looked at Sirius, with a certain intention in his gaze. "Though perhaps he could be of help to them as well."