The sunset over Diagon Alley arrived right on schedule. It was the last day of Sean's one-week break.
Tomorrow he would head back to Hogwarts.
Slytherin's locket was still safely tucked away in the Room of Hope at the castle, waiting for the wizard who would draw Gryffindor's sword.
So tonight, just before Sean left the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius had spent the entire day working up his nerve.
"I… I want to tell you a story," Sirius said at last, voice hesitant.
Night had settled over England, soft and quiet. The Leaky Cauldron had emptied out; only the dozen or so guests staying upstairs remained, and the whole place had gone still.
Sean already knew what Sirius wanted to say, but he simply nodded.
"It happened a long time ago. If you believe me… please take my wrist."
Sirius held out his hand. Strangely, this was the first time he had felt truly nervous since breaking out of Azkaban.
He rarely misjudged a wizard—that was one of his gifts.
Of course, there had been one terrible exception… the mistake that cost him everything. But right now he was willing to trust again.
He was willing to trust the young wizard standing in front of him, willing to believe this boy would lead them all toward a better tomorrow.
Before Sirius could even blink, Sean had already caught the edge of his sleeve.
"Let's go, Mr. Black," Sean said quietly.
"Oh…"
Sirius couldn't hold back the rush of joy. The world twisted, and the next moment they were gone from the Leaky Cauldron.
They reappeared at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
The house couldn't be found on any map, so no one could simply knock on the door. Yet these past few days the place had been anything but empty—ghostly figures had been coming and going.
Sirius stood in front of the huge family tapestry. Sean saw the shadows that never quite left his eyes.
"I haven't looked at this thing in years."
He pointed.
"That's Phineas Nigellus… my great-great-grandfather. You see him? He was the most unpopular headmaster Hogwarts ever had.
And Araminta Meliflua… my mother's cousin. She tried to push through a Ministry law that would have made Muggle-hunting completely legal.
Then there's my dear Aunt Elladora… she started the family tradition of chopping off house-elves' heads when they got too old to carry trays.
And of course, whenever a decent person showed up in the family, they burned them right off the tree."
Sirius spoke slowly, and Sean couldn't help thinking that every single Black on that tapestry probably qualified as a terrorist—even by wizarding standards.
Hell, the entire family was a terrorist gang.
"The only real exception I see is my niece Tonks's branch. They're not on here either.
Tonks—her mother Andromeda was my favorite cousin. Andromeda's missing too, see?"
Sirius jabbed a finger at the scorched little round patch between Bellatrix and Narcissa.
"Her sisters are still up there because they married nice, respectable pure-blood wizards. Andromeda married a Muggle-born—Ted Tonks—so… heh."
Sirius mimed shooting the tapestry with his wand and gave a bitter laugh.
Sean's attention had already drifted to the names just right of Andromeda's burn mark.
A double thread of gold linked Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy, then a single vertical gold line dropped down to Draco.
"You're looking at that… yeah, pure-blood families are all tangled together like that," Sirius said.
"If wizards only want their kids marrying other pure-bloods, the dating pool gets tiny fast. We're almost extinct.
Molly and I are actually cousins through marriage. Arthur's probably some sort of great-great-great-nephew or whatever. But you won't find them on here—if any family's full of blood-traitor scum, it's the Weasleys."
Sean's eyes moved left of Andromeda's scorch mark.
Bellatrix Black. A double gold thread tied her to Rodolphus Lestrange.
"As for those two," Sirius said shortly, "they're rotting in Azkaban."
Sean looked at him in silence.
"Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus went in with young Barty Crouch. Rodolphus's brother Rabastan went with them."
Sean knew the names. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were the ones who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity.
"Pretty much everyone you're looking at committed acts so vile no decent person could ever forgive them," Sirius said with a twisted smile.
"Anyone who accepts them is just too much of a coward.
I left for good when I was sixteen. Summer of 1976 I ran away and went straight to James's house.
His parents took me in like I was their own son.
They burned my name off the tapestry—my mother did it herself with magic—but you can't imagine how much James's way of thinking, how much his parents' acceptance and love, saved me.
For the first time in my life, I had a real home."
Sirius's face flushed with emotion, his eyes bright.
"Then I ruined everything…"
His voice cracked and changed.
"They say I betrayed James and Lily to You-Know-Who. They're right.
I might as well have killed them myself.
When they were on the run, when they needed someone to be Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm…
At the last second I convinced Lily and James to switch to Peter. Let him be the Secret-Keeper instead of me.
The night they died, I went to check on Peter. When I got to his hiding place he was gone. No sign of a struggle.
I knew something was wrong. I panicked and raced to James's house. I saw the ruins… I saw their bodies…"
Sirius's eyes filled. His voice choked. His face went deathly white.
"I got them killed. They never even got to rest in peace.
But why don't they haunt me? I've never seen them in my dreams. Not once.
Don't murdered victims always come back to torment their killers?"