Chapter 107: Chapter 107: The Dead Man’s Moves – Part 4

Sirius Black, dressed in the finest robes Kreacher could procure, strode into Gringotts with the confidence of a king returning to his castle.

The goblins didn’t so much as blink. In record time, he was led to the goblin in charge of the Black Vaults. After a brief but thorough verification process, an obsidian box was placed before him.

Inside lay the Lordship ring of the House of Black.

Sirius hesitated only a moment before slipping it onto his finger. The ancient magic of his house flared to life, accepting him without hesitation.

In that instant, he became more than Sirius Black—he became The Black, the rightful Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House.

The ring granted him access to knowledge he never knew existed—intricate details of the family’s vast financial holdings, a network of properties scattered across the globe, and a deep, instinctual understanding of the ancient wards protecting them.

—

Sirius’s first act as Lord Black was to schedule a meeting with Amelia Bones.

Amelia arrived at Grimmauld Place looking stunned. “Lord Black,” she greeted him, her eyes wide as she took in the ring on his finger. “Well. That changes everything.”

“Yes, it does,” Sirius agreed, gesturing to an elegant chair. “Starting with a long-overdue trial.”

—

One week later, Courtroom Ten erupted in chaos.

“Sirius Black is DEAD!” Cornelius Fudge shrieked from the visitor’s gallery, his face purple with indignation. “Many people witnessed his fall through the Veil!”

“Clearly not dead enough,” Sirius drawled from the defendant’s chair, waggling his fingers cheerfully. “Though I appreciate the concern, Cornelius.”

“Order!” Amelia’s voice cracked like thunder. “Mr. Fudge, you are no longer the Minister. Sit down or be removed.”

The evidence was overwhelming. Pensieve memories from Harry Potter. Veritaserum testimony about the Secret Keeper switch. The lack of trial and conviction before incarceration in Azkaban was the nail in the coffin.

“It seems,” Amelia announced after barely an hour’s deliberation, “that the Ministry owes Lord Black an unprecedented apology. All charges are dismissed. Your wrongful imprisonment will be compensated at standard rates—”

“Triple rates,” Sirius interrupted smoothly. “For the aggravated circumstances. Unless the Ministry would prefer I pursue criminal charges against those responsible for denying me a trial?”

Amelia’s lips twitched. “Triple rates approved.”

—

The reaction was explosive.

The Daily Prophet ran a frantic headline: SIRIUS BLACK: ALIVE AND INNOCENT! The wizarding world erupted in a firestorm of shock, outrage, and recrimination.

Sirius savored every moment of it, enjoying the stunned looks on the faces of old enemies and the shuffling apologies from those who had thought him guilty.

But one battle remained.

“Harry stays with his relatives,” Dumbledore said firmly. They stood in the Chief Warlock’s office, tension crackling between them.

“Like hell he does.” Sirius’s newfound control cracked. “I’m his legal guardian—”

“The blood wards—”

“Are irrelevant,” Sirius cut in. “My home has wards older and stronger than any blood wards. It’s safer.”

“My boy, you don’t understand the danger—”

“Don’t.” The word came out low and dangerous. “Don’t ’my boy’ me, Albus. Not after leaving me to rot while you knew—KNEW—I was innocent.”

Dumbledore’s twinkle dimmed. “I had no proof—”

“You had the political power to demand Veritaserum. To insist on a trial.” Sirius stood, magic crackling around him. “But a wrongfully imprisoned guardian couldn’t complicate your plans for Harry, could he?”

They stared at each other across centuries of manipulation and broken trust.

“One more week,” Dumbledore finally said. “To recharge the protections. Then he may stay with you.”

“No. I’m not letting him spend another night in that place.”

Dumbledore’s voice turned sharp. “Then I’ll challenge your fitness as a guardian. The Wizengamot would find prolonged Dementor exposure… concerning. As would your years as a fugitive. Such instability in a guardian…”

Sirius’s jaw clenched, then he exhaled slowly. “One week. But after that, Harry’s with me.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And next summer?”

Sirius’s grin was wolfish. “We will talk about that later, old man.”

Sirius hid his savage satisfaction. By next summer, Dumbledore would be beyond making demands about anything.

—

Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place a week later, following an impromptu detour with Dumbledore to convince Horace Slughorn to accept the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts.

“This is brilliant!” Harry spun in circles, taking in the renovated entrance hall. Gone were the dark artifacts and screaming portraits. Light, air, and warmth had replaced the tomb-like atmosphere.

“You’ve got your own room this time,” Sirius said proudly. “Not the one you shared with Ron. And I might’ve gone a little mad with Quidditch posters.”

They couldn’t leave the house—Voldemort’s forces still hunted Harry—but within Grimmauld Place’s walls, they were free. Mornings for training, afternoons for flying in the expanded basement, evenings for stories and strategy. The Black wards had ways around the trace detection.

“Show me that wand movement again,” Harry said, focused intensely on the Protego variation Sirius was teaching.

“Flick, not swish. The shield needs to deflect, not just block.” Sirius adjusted Harry’s grip. “Better. Now—”

Harry’s shield snapped into existence, silvery and solid.

“Brilliant!” Sirius ruffled his godson’s hair. “You’re learning faster than I did.”

“I have a better teacher,” Harry replied, then ducked the playful hex Sirius sent his way.

The summer flew by. For the first time since his parents’ death, Harry experienced what having a real family felt like. No chores, no cupboards, no starvation—just love, laughter, and learning.

When September arrived, neither wanted it to end.

“Christmas.” Sirius promised at King’s Cross, holding Harry tight. “I’ll make Dumbledore agree. You’ll come home for Christmas.”

“Home.” Harry tested the word, smiling. “Yeah. Home.”

—

While Harry returned to Hogwarts, Narcissa Malfoy began her own desperate gambit.

“Bella.” She kept her voice carefully casual over afternoon tea. “I heard the Dark Lord was… displeased about Lucius losing something precious?”

Bellatrix’s eyes sharpened like a hawk spotting prey.

“Oh? You know about that?” She leaned forward. “I’m surprised Lucius still breathes. The Dark Lord treasures those items above all else.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“You shouldn’t ask such questions.” Bellatrix’s voice dropped dangerously. “Your family can’t afford more… mistakes.”

“But I want to make amends.” Narcissa let desperation creep in—not difficult, given the circumstances. “Could I acquire a replacement? Surely if the Dark Lord trusted Lucius with such an item, he must have trusted you with something similar?”

“Of course!” Bellatrix preened. “If Lucy could be trusted, then I—his most faithful—carry something far more precious.”

Got you, Narcissa thought.

“Though there’s no replacing them.” Bellatrix waved dismissively. “Each is unique. Irreplaceable.”

Narcissa let her mask slip for just a moment, showing real fear. “Then there’s no saving Draco?”

“Don’t worry, dear sister.” Bellatrix’s smile was all teeth. “I’ll help little Draco complete his task. The Dark Lord’s mercy is… extensive.”

They both knew she was lying.

—

Sirius met Narcissa in the shadowed hush of a misty forest clearing. The ground was damp beneath their feet, and the trees loomed tall and silent, as if holding their breath.

After Harry had moved in, Sirius had torn down the compromised Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place and raised a new one – stronger, tighter, and known only to him and Harry. No one else would ever hold the secret again.

“Well?” he asked without preamble.

“She has it. Definitely.” Narcissa’s voice carried defeat. “She knows exactly what it is, and she’s proud of carrying it. There’s no way to convince her—she sees it as an honor, not an abomination.”

Sirius cursed under his breath. “At least we confirmed its existence. I’ll find another way to—”

“How touching.”

Both spun toward the mocking voice. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped from behind an ancient oak, wand already drawn, eyes glittering with malice.

“Bella.” Narcissa’s voice cracked. “How—”

“Following a traitor.” Bellatrix’s wand never wavered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your clumsy questions? Your sudden interest in the Dark Lord’s possessions?”

“She’s trying to save her son.” Sirius moved slowly, hand near his wand. “Something you’d understand if you weren’t completely insane.”

“Save him?” Bellatrix laughed, high and cold. “From the honor of serving the greatest wizard who ever lived?”

“Greatest wizard?” Sirius snorted. “The same ’great’ wizard who fled from an eighteen-year-old muggleborn? Tail between his legs like a whipped dog?”

“BLASPHEMY!” Bellatrix shrieked, and her wand was in her hand. “CRUCIO.”

Sirius was already rolling. The Unforgivable scorched earth where he’d stood, leaving smoking furrows.

“Confringo!”

Bellatrix shielded, the explosion rattling nearby trees. “The Dark Lord is eternal! He will crush all who oppose him!”

“Eternal?” Sirius laughed harshly, dodging a Killing Curse. “Is that what he tells you while hiding behind his snake?”

Their duel erupted in earnest. This was not a duel but war. Both combatants moved with lethal intent, decades of training and hatred given violent form.

“Sectumsempra!”

“Protego! Reducto!”

Trees shattered. Earth exploded. The very air crackled with unleashed magic.

Narcissa pressed herself against a boulder, paralyzed. Her sister and cousin danced with death, and she could only watch.

Bellatrix had thought she could handle Sirius—after all, she’d bested him once in the Department of Mysteries. But Sirius was no longer the man she’d flung through the Veil. He was sharper now. More focused. More dangerous.

“Help me, Cissy!” Bellatrix screamed as one of Sirius’s curses seared her arm. “Or I will tell the Dark Lord everything! Your precious dragon will suffer a fate worse than death!”

Narcissa drew her wand with shaking hands.

“Don’t be stupid.” Sirius kept his eyes on Bellatrix. “She tells Voldemort you know about Horcruxes? You and Draco die tonight.”

“He’s lying!” Bellatrix snarled. “I’ve protected you your whole life, Cissy! You are my sister.”

“The same sister who just threatened my son?” But Narcissa still turned her wand with shaking hands towards Sirius. “I… I can’t let you kill her, Sirius.”

“Touching.” Sirius sighed. “Fine. Two against one. Just like a Black family reunion.”

The battle resumed with Narcissa’s reluctant addition. But her heart wasn’t in it—every spell came a beat too slow, every shield a fraction too weak. She was fighting to prevent death, not cause it.

Even together, they couldn’t overcome Sirius’s momentum. He’d found his rhythm now, magic flowing like water, each movement perfect economy. And Bellatrix knew they could not win.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix hissed during a brief lull. “When I move, apparate away. Quickly!”

“But—”

“NOW! Impedimenta!”

The spell forced Sirius to dodge. In that instant, Narcissa twisted and vanished with a crack.

“Just us now.” Sirius advanced. “How it should be.”

But Bellatrix dissolved into a stream of black smoke, twisting through the trees and vanishing into the night sky. Voldemort’s gift to his most faithful

“No!” Sirius fired curse after curse at the retreating cloud. Spells passed through harmlessly as Bellatrix soared above the treeline.

Her laughter echoed as she soared above the trees. “Until next time, cousin! And next time, I’ll make sure you stay dead!”

Then she was gone, leaving Sirius alone in the devastated clearing.

A cold dread settled in his stomach. The plan had failed spectacularly. Bellatrix knew everything. Would she go to Voldemort? Would the other Horcruxes be moved, hidden away forever?

—

At Malfoy Manor, Narcissa knelt on cold marble as Bellatrix paced around her like a stalking predator.

“Stupid, stupid girl!” Bellatrix’s wand jabbed accusingly. “Consorting with blood traitors! Plotting against the Dark Lord! I should kill you myself!”

“I only wanted to save Draco—”

“Silence!” The curse that followed was mild by Bellatrix’s standards, but Narcissa still gasped in pain. “Your son chose his path. As did you.”

Long minutes passed in tense silence. Finally, Narcissa found her courage.

“What happens now?” she whispered. “Will you tell him?”

Bellatrix stopped pacing, her expression turning cunning. “Nothing happens,” she said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. “We say nothing. If the Dark Lord learns we know his secret, we are both dead. The blood-traitor thinks I will run to our Lord, but he is the fool.”

“Then—”

“This stays between us.” Bellatrix’s wand pressed against Narcissa’s throat. “But I’ll be watching you, sister. One more step out of line, and I’ll feed you to Nagini myself.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Bellatrix stepped back. “The item will be moved somewhere even Black can’t reach. The Dark Lord’s immortality remains secure.”

She left without another word, and Narcissa remained kneeling – shaken, silent, and very much afraid for the future.

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