"If I wrote the whole truth about what I've learned over the last ten years, about 600 people, including myself, would be rotting in prisons from Rio to Seattle. The absolute truth is a very rare and dangerous thing in the context of professional journalism." © Hunter Thompson
*** The morning didn't start well. I woke up with a sore head, a heavy heart and a burnt-out liver. Kreacher seemed to have carried me from my study straight to my bedroom, for which I was insanely grateful. But the magical equivalent of a hangover cure remained in place from yesterday's solitary protest against health. So when I took a shower and came downstairs, my mood was below rock bottom.
It improved a little after the potion. But it immediately plummeted when I surveyed the extent of the tragedy. Empty bottles, food, and my notes were scattered on the floor. I must not have been myself yesterday, because when I picked up one of the sheets, all I saw were meaningless notes and some caricatures: a black man with needle teeth, a snake, some kind of crown, an hourglass... Nonsense that went straight into the fireplace.
"Khr... Kreacher!" My throat hurt a little, and I seemed to be coming down with something.
"Master?" The house-elf appeared with a bang that was too loud for my condition.
"Clean this up, please, and make me a light breakfast.
"Yes, sir!
While the house-elf bustled around the study, I lay down on the sofa, covered my head with a pillow, and think I even dozed off. Because I was awakened by the delicious smell of bacon and eggs.
"Is my lord ill?" Kreacher was there in a flash. Damn, it's nice when someone cares about you.
"It's a very serious illness, my eared friend," I began, but seeing the alarm on the elf's face, I decided not to joke. "But it will pass soon... I hope. Thank you."
Giving in to impulse, I unconsciously sent a wave of energy through our connection. The house-elf lit up... Strange, I'd never done that before, but he seemed to like it.
"Did you do what I asked you to do?
"Yes, master! All the items have been gathered and sorted in the room on the second floor.
"Excellent, Kreacher. We have great things to do today!
I sent him another portion of my energy. My mood began to improve little by little. Apparently, the potions and healthy food had finally convinced my body that I hadn't forgotten about it.
I had a lot to do today, so with an effort of will, I pushed aside the desire to lie around some more, got up, and set about the tasks that had piled up. First, together with the house elf, I sorted through all the junk, placing it in oversized cupboards in an empty room on the second floor, which was slowly but surely turning into a storage room.
I threw some things away, but most of it was simply frozen with a spell. Then, after giving some instructions to the house-elf, I returned to my sparkling clean study, noting that thanks to the elf's efforts (and mine, of course), the house was looking less and less like a dark crypt and more and more like a lived-in home. The cobwebs, dirt and old things disappeared. I renewed the wallpaper and ceiling. I replaced the chandeliers, charging the artefacts with magic. This study was almost completely cut off from the rest of the house by a protective network, so the artefacts had to be charged manually.
It became much brighter and more pleasing to the eye. Just a little more, and I'll be able to bring guests here, at least to the main wing... Although, what guests? Except maybe Harry, he'll probably like it here now. I've already set aside Regulus's old room for him, clearing out his old things and rearranging the interior a bit. Speaking of Harry, I'll have to check on him when I'm done with my blackmail list. Heh heh.
After looking at my notes, I made a plan for the day. I needed to stop by Pollux's, try to keep tabs on the Crouch house and find out where he was hiding his son. Then I could visit my godson and see how he was doing. It would be a long time before I could take him away... But I wanted to make those few weeks as easy as possible for the boy. Then I would try to arrange a meeting with Narcissa... or maybe not. While I was as sure as possible about Medea, Cissy and I had had a somewhat tense relationship since childhood. No, she probably wouldn't turn me in to the Ministry if I wrote to her. But she would definitely tell her fair-haired husband. And Malfoy could behave very unpredictably. Starting with his attempt to use the Black family's finances, ending with a banal trap for a fugitive criminal, which would greatly strengthen his position in the Ministry. Especially since I would never believe that he served Riddle under the Imperius Curse.
That slippery bastard always looked for an advantage in everything, and even if he simply joined the strongest side, quickly becoming indispensable because of his connections and money, I wasn't sure that he still didn't support his views. Even now, when Voldemort is dead. No, that's not right. Especially now, when he is essentially leading a movement of surviving radicals. Join their team? That's not even funny.
Anyway, it's decided. I need to talk to Narcissa, but only after I've been officially cleared. Right now, my trump card is my invisibility. The Aurors and Dumbledore probably think I'm lost somewhere in France. Let them think that until I figure out how to influence him.
These are not thoughts for a single day.
For now, I've gone to France to visit my great-grandfather. Perhaps he can shed some light on the dark past of my family. To do this, I had to talk to the goblin manager. I did this in France, asking him to dig up some old property documents. Half an hour and a few gold coins later, I had the approximate addresses.
After changing my clothes and disguising my face, I set off for the magical part of Paris.
Of course, I would like to say that everything went perfectly in France, but that would be a lie. I simply could not find old Pollux's house. None of the addresses yielded the desired result. Black's dwelling was either under a Fidelius charm, or my grandfather had cast the same spell that hides the house on Grimm Street.
The only thing I learned in almost half a day of cautious inquiries about the hermit was that his elf is sometimes seen in the Magic Quarter, in some shops. He buys food and other necessities for the voluntary recluse. For a certain amount of money, I arranged with a potion maker to pass a note to the elf if he reappeared. But there was little hope that anyone would read it.
In short, nothing came of it. At least I got to go shopping. I updated my wardrobe, bought a couple of things and replenished my supply of potions. Fortunately, medical potions here were not available only by prescription. And in general, France turned out to be more tolerant of various areas of witchcraft than old England. True, the prices were steep. Money was flying out of my pockets.
After talking to the potion maker, I left the frog-eaters' abode and headed for the Crouch mansion. Fortunately, I had been there a couple of times on business for Dumbledore. I took my standard kit with me. Today, I planned just to observe. It was dangerous to do anything without first gathering information. A few hours later, I was on the outskirts of London, right in front of a gloomy old mansion. The Crouches had lived in this place for many years. Once upon a time, it was a powerful and numerous family. But, like many ancient magical families, only a few remained alive. Two people, including the younger Crouch.
Now the former head of the department led a reclusive life. Many thought it was because of his son's betrayal, which had buried his chances of becoming minister. The other half believed that he had broken down after his wife's death. Only one person knew that the reality had little to do with these speculations.
Getting through the protective spells was quite a challenge. Fortunately, I had been here before and remained on the authorised list. Apparently, Crouch had simply forgotten to remove me from it. However, the other spells caused a great deal of trouble, destroying several artefacts I had purchased in advance.
After waiting for several hours in the garden near the guest house, I finally saw my target. A dry, fit, elderly man in an immaculate suit and tie. His short grey hair was parted in the middle and perfectly straight, his moustache was trimmed with a brush and looked as if it had been cut with a ruler, and his shoes were shiny. Crouch, despite the passing years, had changed little. Only a few more wrinkles had appeared.
He left the house, apparently to take a walk... or to "walk" someone. I approached when I saw Vinky cautiously following her master. The housekeeper was walking at just the right distance for another companion. However, the path was empty. It seemed that I was not the only one using the invisibility cloak.
After watching them until Crouch entered the house, I also quietly left, leaving myself a loophole in the protective spell. Until I could figure out how to get to my old friend, there was nothing to do here. But I already had some ideas. Now, before it got completely dark, I wanted to check on my godson.
First, I stopped by the restaurant near the park. I chatted with the owner and asked if the child ever came there. Of course, I should have done this much earlier. I didn't know how Harry would react to my gift. Despite his difficult childhood, he seemed to have grown up to be a rather stubborn and independent young man. But her answer reassured me.
"The child comes once a day, around six o'clock on weekdays and at two o'clock on weekends. He always orders the same thing you ordered then and walks the dog..." Lynn seemed satisfied with her thoughts. The generous payment more than covered her expenses, and she also found an advantage in looking after the dog. Lucky, as I mentioned earlier, got along wonderfully with children. This had an impact on new customers, whose kids adored the big shaggy dog.
"Well, Lucky, have you eaten your fill?" I ruffled the shaggy dog's neck. He grinned contentedly, offering his big muzzle for a caress. Judging by everything, he didn't miss his former life as a stray too much. Food, baths, grooming — Evelyn, who had been saddled with the responsibility of caring for the dog, took her job very seriously. She was a good girl and deserved to be rewarded. She also looked after Harry a little, persuading the shy boy to have an "extra" portion. All in all, I was satisfied.
Leaving the girl a couple of large bills for tea, I apparated to Harry's house. Today he was already at the restaurant after school, which meant he should have been home by now.
"Damn!" No sooner had I apparated to the Dursleys' house than I almost got caught in some magical structure of unknown origin. Through my artefact glasses, it looked like a weightless spider web, its threads encircling the entire house and extending some distance beyond it. "An alarm!"
It seemed that Dumbledore had already been here and reinforced the security measures. The spells glowed with overflowing energy. I could immediately sense the signature of the "Great Wizard."
Carefully, calculating every step, I moved as far away from the house as possible, continuing to watch it through the "far eye" spell. A magical analogue of binoculars. And I definitely didn't like what I saw.
Harry was covering the flowers and bushes for the winter. The boy deftly wielded heavy plastic sheeting and scissors. I was glad to see that he no longer looked as emaciated as before. It was clear to the naked eye that the extra nutrition had had a positive effect on his growing body. But what really worried me was hidden from view. The same cobwebs that covered the house enveloped the boy from head to toe. Through his glasses, he looked like a pulsating cocoon. How did the Old Man come up with this? Casting spells on an unformed wizard was a sure-fire way to disrupt the development of his magical core! I had to get my godson out of there... but damn! It was too early for that. I had to deal with the rat, the accusations, Crouch, and my own family, although they could wait.
"Damn... — I literally grabbed my head. If only I could clone myself, or if I had a Time-Turner! I'd grab Harry and take him to the continent, to another country... The only thing stopping me from doing so was that the old Mordred would find him anyway, even if someone took me in for money.
If not himself, then through the MCM. There are enough people loyal to Dumbledore outside of Foggy Albion. And I didn't have the strength to fight the whole world... And I didn't want that fate for Harry or myself. To constantly hide and live in fear in another country? To sit in a mansion, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn't find out where I was? I wasn't that naive. A cage is a cage, even if its boundaries aren't limited to a few metres.
After brainstorming, I realised that half of my business could be put on hold, and I could speed up the capture of the rat. Yes, I'm not ready yet, but to hell with the consequences. I'll think of something. The trial is a long process, and anything could happen to Harry in the meantime. Kidnap him and lock him in the house? Kreacher won't be able to watch a child in an empty house full of dark artefacts while I try to clear my name. Hiring someone else won't work either. And keeping someone under the Imperius Curse to watch over a child... Harry himself wouldn't understand. And the headmaster would surely connect the disappearance of the "chosen one" with my actions.
"Okay, calm down and think rationally." I apparated to the house on Grimms and hid in the library. "Dumbledore isn't stupid, he won't cripple a potential 'chosen one'. The most he wants is to weaken his potential... Or maybe not. Think, not like a Gryffindor, Sirius, why would he take such a step? The old man couldn't have known that I was meeting with the child... Or did he find out? And he's setting a trap. But how did he find out, or is he just playing it safe, think...
I began to replay the events of the past few days over and over again. My first visit in the form of a dog, our first meeting, the restaurant... Maybe that's why? But then why wasn't I followed to the restaurant...
"Damn it!" I finally remembered one insignificant detail. "The jumping jack! That damn amulet I threw away so carelessly. Arabella could have found it, or someone from the Order. And Dumbledore would have no trouble connecting the dots. He knows I was at Harry's. Or he suspects it. To mess with a little kid's mind, you have to be completely crazy, or trying to keep the kid crazy. So, theoretically, he only knows that I was there. But most likely nothing else. You'd have to be completely paranoid to connect me to the restaurant owners. Although, of course, anything is possible.
Or another option — Dumbledore discovered interference with the mind of the Order member who was guarding the house on Grimmauld Place and is just playing it safe, not knowing for sure. He also doesn't know for sure if I have the necessary artefacts to detect the spells cast on Harry and the house. Or maybe he's thinking about something else entirely... Damn! It's so hard to guess the thoughts of an old manipulator.
In any case, I have a week, maybe a little more, before the next magical outburst from the child damages him because of the tracking device.
I need Petigrew, and I need him fast. And I need Skeeter!
***A petite, slender blonde in a bright green designer dress twirled this way and that in front of a large oval mirror. For her thirty-eight years, Rita looked irresistible, skilfully masking her physical flaws (such as her chin, which she considered too prominent) with the help of ordinary cosmetics. A little more eye shadow, bright lipstick, long eyelashes. Decorative, elegant glasses made her already large, expressive eyes even brighter.
All this helped her win over the most impenetrable men of magical England and then extract their dirty secrets. Of course, there are special potions that can do the same job much better and faster, but unfortunately, her high-paying job has its drawbacks. Her little secret, which allowed her to extract other people's secrets "first-hand" with no less success than female charms, unfortunately ruled out all methods of using illusions.
"Never mind, it's fine," Rita said curtly, tapping her sharp heel. Today she had to look perfect. Lucius Malfoy was hosting a reception in honour of Saint Lucia's Day, to which all of high society had been invited. This included Cornelius Fudge, with whom she had recently spoken when her so-called "colleague" Chris Embetsen was taking a statement from the minister about Sirius Black's escape. Chris Mordred! He had literally beaten her to the finish line, getting that damn interview before her.
The minister was in a bad mood that day, but Rita Skeeter wouldn't be Rita Skeeter if she didn't manage to get a promise for a short interview for her column in the Daily Prophet out of the fat man who was in a hurry to get somewhere. Unfortunately, Rita had been unable to arrange a personal meeting for a week, but now it would be difficult for the minister to hide from her quick pen behind constant promises!
Rita smiled triumphantly at the mirror, revealing her white, even teeth. After this interview, the monthly bonus of almost double her salary for the best article would finally be hers, not that damn Chris's. The minister's interview, the documents dug up in the archives, interviews with former friends of the fugitive criminal — all of this could make for some great material. Of course, she would have to present everything in the right light and take into account the interests of all parties involved, but Rita already felt that success was assured. The newspapers would fly off the shelves like pixies from a wizard's hat...
"Black is still at large!" Rita said, savouring the sound of the words. "Or no, 'Sirius Black is darker than dark...'"
"The second option is much better, Miss Skeeter," said a voice behind her, making Rita's heart sink. Who could have gotten into her house? Fearing ill-wishers, she had requested additional security from the ministry... Rita spun around on her heels, staring fearfully at the stranger who had somehow managed to enter her home.
It was a tall, dark-haired man in a neat black suit with a bow tie. He had pale skin, piercing blue eyes with a hint of green, a sharp nose and a small hump. The man, who was quite difficult to recognise as a fugitive criminal, was now sitting comfortably on her sofa, casually crossing his legs.
"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Sirius said, carefully showing her Rita's magic wand and then placing it on the armrest. Only then did she realise that her hand, frantically searching the inside of her handbag, would find nothing.
"What do you want?!" Rita tried very hard to keep her voice from trembling. After all the rumours she had heard about the former Auror, it was quite difficult not to be afraid of an escaped criminal. Besides, she was unarmed. Now the only way out of this situation was to understand why he was here... To kill her? To interrogate her? To rob her? What could a madman want from her home? How could he have found out that she was writing an article about him? Or was it somehow connected to the recent note hinting at her "secret"? No one else knew about Skeeter's "advantage." Being an unregistered Animagus wasn't a terrible crime. At least, they didn't put people in Azkaban for that. But her reputation, her career...
Rita had based almost all of her "sensitive" articles on rumours, skilfully manipulating people's opinions about each other's honesty. But if the truth came out, Rita would face a very painful fall. And those people whose sore spots Skeeter had thoroughly trampled on in her time would gladly arrange it. For now, she was protected by Barnabas Cuff, the editor-in-chief of the newspaper, who was friends with the Minister. For now, the Prophet needed her and her column. But at the same time, the girl understood that if things started to heat up, he would immediately betray her. Rita had to be protected by a secret, the inviolability of which Skeeter had strictly observed to this day. But something told her that there was definitely a connection between the letter and today's visit. And that meant big trouble.
"It's definitely not your life, stop overreacting." Black frowned, and Rita chose to do as he said, forcing herself to calm down with an effort of will. "You're a first-class journalist!"
"And yet, what do you want? Do you want an exclusive interview?" Skeeter returned the sarcasm out of habit before biting her tongue in realisation of her actions. "Well done, Skeeter! Now he's going to kill you!"
But Black, contrary to her expectations, simply smiled.
"Maybe later. Right now, I want you to do me a favour, something that's right up your alley. You can't refuse," Sirius anticipated the next question, "But I can tell you that this small favour, in exchange for keeping your secret, will be useful to both of us.
"In what sense?
"Well, you need a scoop. And I promise you a scoop from the front row that will elevate you to the pinnacle of journalism.
"But I'm not...
"You can. After all, it's not just you who needs it, but me too," the man looked coldly at the girl, who was trembling again. Then he glanced at the mirror, smiled at something, and stood up.
"I see that my presence makes you uncomfortable, so I'll leave all the instructions in writing. See you later, Rita.
With these words, Black simply vanished into thin air, and the girl leaned exhausted against the cold mirror.
Skeeter was shaking violently, but she pulled herself away from the wall and immediately rushed to the wand lying on the sofa. Only when she had the magical instrument in her hand did she feel safe. As safe as she could be right now.
She cast a few search spells and checked the house's defences. Nothing. It was as if no one had been there. The only reminder of the recent visit was a yellowish envelope, exactly like the one the letter had come in.
*** After visiting Harry, I spent a long time in the library. I needed all the information I could find on that spell, the purification rituals, and how to protect the boy. Books, manuscripts, and memories swirled together with my studies of iron, potions, and combat magic. I cleaned the duelling hall and renewed its defences. In this room, under the foundation of the house, I could create almost anything, except perhaps hellfire and other higher spells. At least, that was undesirable.
I lacked a sparring partner, but I managed to get around that by buying a few more suits of knight's armour with active protection in a shop in London. I trained simultaneously in higher transfiguration spells, animating the armour and forcing it to attack me, and in combat elemental magic. So far, my limit is two fully controllable golems, without additional runes. It turns out that if you cast certain spells in advance, it becomes easier to control such a "robot".
For example, in the castle, all the statues were probably treated in a similar way, if not better. I also practised new rituals I had read about in the family library, restored Sirius to his former form, and completely abandoned Krauch, the investigation into my family's past, and other plans I had previously made. I only met with Likbook a couple of times; he was drawing up a plan for the further development of the family business and a list of tasks and papers that I would have to sign once I became Lord. I kept a close eye on Lockhart's actions. Just in case he tried anything. But he seemed to have come to terms with the blackmail, leading a turbulent social life, signing autographs... Everything was as usual. The only thing as thorough as my training was my short visits to Diagon Alley, where I was preparing the stage for the future performance.
When the day of reckoning arrived and I visited the journalist, everything was ready. With or without her. But despite my fears, everything went even more smoothly with Skeeter than it had with Lockhart. I didn't expect her to be so scared of me... However, first impressions can be deceiving, and she could well have tried to run away. But I was prepared for that too. It was not for nothing that I didn't use my disguise during my visit. I was completely indifferent to what the resourceful journalist might do during those three days. Either way, I would come out on top.
Now that all the main work was done, all that remained was to visit the head of the red-haired family. Arthur Weasley had to do what he had to do.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970